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diff --git a/17768-h/17768-h.htm b/17768-h/17768-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0ef81d --- /dev/null +++ b/17768-h/17768-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6021 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hundred Best English Poems, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + } + + hr { width: 65%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poemtitle {margin-left:5%; margin-top: 2em; font-size: 120%; font-weight: bold;} + .poemtitle .secline {margin-left: 1.5em;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + ul.TOC {list-style-type: none; + position: relative; + width: 80%; } + + .poet {margin-top: 1.5em;} + + span.tocright { /* use absolute positioning to move page# right */ + position: absolute; right: 0; } + hr.full { width: 100%; } + pre {font-size: 75%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Hundred Best English Poems, by Various, +Edited by Adam L. Gowans</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Hundred Best English Poems</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Adam L. Gowans</p> +<p>Release Date: February 15, 2006 [eBook #17768]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNDRED BEST ENGLISH POEMS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Brian Sogard, Diane Monico,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net/)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<p class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;"> +<img src="images/image002.png" width="387" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="figcenter" style="width: 403px;"> +<img src="images/image001.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt="Alfred, Lord Tennyson." title="Alfred, Lord Tennyson." /> +<span class="caption">Alfred, Lord Tennyson.</span> +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h1>THE HUNDRED BEST<br /> +ENGLISH POEMS</h1> + + +<p class="figcenter" style="width: 143px;"> +<img src="images/image003.png" width="143" height="148" alt="" title="" /> +</p> + + +<p class="center">NEW YORK,<br /> THOMAS Y. +CROWELL & COMPANY,<br /> +PUBLISHERS</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + +<h1>THE HUNDRED BEST<br /> +ENGLISH POEMS<br /><br /></h1> + +<h4>SELECTED BY</h4> + +<h3>ADAM L. GOWANS, M.A.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></h3> + + +<p class="center">NEW YORK<br /> +THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY<br /> +PUBLISHERS</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1904,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + +<p class="center">THIS<br /> +<big>LITTLE COLLECTION</big><br /> +IS DEDICATED TO<br /> +<big>JAMES FITZMAURICE-KELLY, ESQ.</big><br /> +BY THE SELECTOR<br /> +AS A SLIGHT MARK OF A<br /> +DEEP ADMIRATION +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h2>PREFATORY NOTE.</h2> + + +<p>Let me frankly admit, to begin with, that the attractiveness and +probable selling qualities of the title of this little book, "The +Hundred Best English Poems," proved, when it had been once thought of, +too powerful arguments for it to be abandoned. I am fully conscious of +the presumption such a title implies in an unknown selector, but at +the same time I submit that only a plebiscite of duly qualified lovers +of poetry could make a selection that could claim to deserve this +title beyond all question, and such a plebiscite is of course +impossible. I can claim no more than that my attempt to realize this +title is an honest one, and I can assert, without fear of +contradiction, that every one of the poems I have included is a "gem +of purest ray serene"; that none can be too often read or too often +repeated to one's self; that every one of them should be known by +heart by every lover of good literature, so that each may become, as +it were, a part of his inner being.</p> + +<p>I have not inserted any poems by living authors.</p> + +<p>I have taken the greatest care with the texts of the poems. The +editions followed have been mentioned in every case. I have +scrupulously retained the punctuation of these original editions, and +only modernized the spelling of the old copies; while I have not +ventured to omit any part of any poem. I have not supplied titles of +my own, but have adopted those I found already employed in the +editions used as models, or, in some of the cases in which I found +none, have merely added a descriptive one, such as "Song from 'Don +Juan.'"</p> + +<p>In conclusion, my very warmest thanks are due to Messrs. Macmillan & +Co., Ltd., for permission to include Tennyson's "Crossing the Bar"; to +Mr. D. Nutt for permission to insert W. E. Henley's "To R. T. H. B." +and "Margaritæ Sorori"; to Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. for a like +privilege in regard to Browning's "Epilogue," and to Mr. Lloyd +Osbourne and Messrs. Chatto & Windus for permission to reproduce +Stevenson's "Requiem." Without these poems the volume would have had a +much smaller claim to its title than it does possess, slight as that +may be. My thanks are also due to the following gentlemen who have +kindly allowed me to reproduce copyright texts of non-copyright poems +from editions published by them: Messrs. Bickers & Son (Ben Jonson), +Messrs. Chapman & Hall, Ltd. (Landor), Messrs. Chatto & Windus +(Herrick), Mr. Buxton Forman (Keats and Shelley), Mr. Henry Frowde +(Wordsworth), Mr. Alex. Gardner and the Rev. George Henderson, B.D. +(Lady Nairne), Messrs. T. C. & E. C. Jack (Burns), Messrs. Macmillan & +Co., Ltd. (Clough and Tennyson), Mr. John Murray (Byron), Messrs. +Smith, Elder & Co. (Browning), Messrs. Ward, Lock & Co., Ltd. +(Coleridge and Hood).</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">A. L. G.</span><br /></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li style='list-style-type: none'><span class="tocright">PAGE</span><br /><br /></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ANONYMOUS"><span class="smcap">Anonymous.</span></a><br /></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">1. Madrigal</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_1">1</a><br /></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#MATTHEW_ARNOLD"><span class="smcap">Arnold</span></a> (1822-1888).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">2. The Forsaken Merman</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_2">2</a><br /><br /></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ANNA_LAETITIA_BARBAULD"><span class="smcap">Barbauld</span></a> (1743-1825).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">3. Life </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ROBERT_BROWNING"><span class="smcap">Browning</span></a> (1812-1889).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">4. Song from "Pippa Passes" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">5. Song from "Pippa Passes" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Song_from_Pippa_Passes">12</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">6. The Lost Mistress</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Lost_Mistress">13</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">7. Home-Thoughts, from the Sea</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Home">14</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">8. Epilogue </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Epilogue">15</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ROBERT_BURNS"><span class="smcap">Burns</span></a> (1759-1796).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">9. The Silver Tassie </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">10. Of a' the Airts </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">11. John Anderson my Jo </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">12. Ae Fond Kiss </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">13. Ye Flowery Banks </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Flowery">21</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">14. A Red, Red Rose </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Red_Rose">22</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">15. Mary Morison</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_24">24</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#LORD_BYRON"><span class="smcap">Byron</span></a> (1788-1824).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">16. She Walks in Beauty </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">17. Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">18. Song from "The Corsair" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">19. Song from "Don Juan" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Don_Juan">29</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#THOMAS_CAMPBELL"><span class="smcap">Campbell</span></a> (1777-1844).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">20. Hohenlinden </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ARTHUR_HUGH_CLOUGH"><span class="smcap">Clough</span></a> (1819-1861).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">21. Say not the Struggle Nought Availeth</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_37">37</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#SAMUEL_TAYLOR_COLERIDGE"><span class="smcap">Coleridge</span></a> (1772-1834).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">22. Youth and Age </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#WILLIAM_COLLINS"><span class="smcap">Collins</span></a> (1721-1759).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">23. Written in the Year 1746</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_41">41</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#WILLIAM_COWPER"><span class="smcap">Cowper</span></a> (1731-1800).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">24. To a Young Lady </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM"><span class="smcap">Cunningham</span></a> (1784-1842).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">25. A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#SIR_WILLIAM_DAVENANT"><span class="smcap">Davenant</span></a> (1606-1668).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">26. Song </span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_45">45</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#JOHN_DRYDEN"><span class="smcap">Dryden</span></a> (1631-1700).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">27. A Song for St. Cecilia's Day, 1687</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_46">46</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#OLIVER_GOLDSMITH"><span class="smcap">Goldsmith</span></a> (1728-1774).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">28. Song </span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_50">50</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#THOMAS_GRAY"><span class="smcap">Gray</span></a> (1716-1771).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">29. Elegy written in a Country Church-yard</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_51">51</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#WILLIAM_ERNEST_HENLEY"><span class="smcap">Henley</span></a> (1849-1903).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">30. To R. T. H. B.</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_59">59</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">31. I. M. Margaritæ Sorori </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#GEORGE_HERBERT"><span class="smcap">Herbert</span></a> (1593-1632).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">32. Virtue</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_62">62</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ROBERT_HERRICK"><span class="smcap">Herrick</span></a> (1591-1674).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">33. To the Virgins, to make much of Time</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_63">63</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">34. To Anthea, who may command him anything </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#THOMAS_HOOD"><span class="smcap">Hood</span></a> (1798-1845).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">35. The Death Bed </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">36. The Bridge of Sighs </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">37. I Remember, I Remember</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#I_Remember">72</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#BEN_JONSON"><span class="smcap">Jonson</span></a> (1573-1637).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">38. To Celia</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_74">74</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#JOHN_KEATS"><span class="smcap">Keats</span></a> (1795-1821).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">39. On first looking into Chapman's Homer </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">40. Ode to a Nightingale</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_76">76</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">41. Ode on a Grecian Urn</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Grecian_Urn">80</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">42. To Autumn </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Autumn">83</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">43. Ode on Melancholy </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Melancholy">85</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">44. La Belle Dame sans Merci</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#La_Belle">87</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">45. Sonnet</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Sonnet">90</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#CHARLES_LAMB"><span class="smcap">Lamb</span></a> (1775-1834).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">46. The Old Familiar Faces</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_92">92</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#WALTER_SAVAGE_LANDOR"><span class="smcap">Landor</span></a> (1775-1864).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">47. The Maid's Lament </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#RICHARD_LOVELACE"><span class="smcap">Lovelace</span></a> (1618-1658).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">48. To Lucasta. Going to the Wars </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#JOHN_MILTON"><span class="smcap">Milton</span></a> (1608-1674).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">49. On the Morning of Christ's Nativity </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">50. L'Allegro</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#LAllegro">112</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">51. Il Penseroso </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Il_Penseroso">119</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">52. Lycidas</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_127">127</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">53. On his Blindness </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#LADY_NAIRNE"><span class="smcap">Nairine</span></a> (1766-1845).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">54. The Land o' the Leal </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ALEXANDER_POPE"><span class="smcap">Pope</span></a> (1688-1744).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">55. Ode on Solitude</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_140">140</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#SIR_WALTER_RALEIGH"><span class="smcap">Raleigh</span></a> (1552-1618).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">56. The Night before his Death </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#SAMUEL_ROGERS"><span class="smcap">Rogers</span></a> (1763-1855).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">57. A Wish </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#WILLIAM_SHAKESPEARE"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span></a> (1564-1616).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">58. Sonnets. XVII. Who will believe my verse? </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">59. XVIII. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">60. XXX. When to the sessions </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#When_to_the_sessions">145</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">61. XXXIII. Full many a glorious morning </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Full_many_a_glorious_morning">146</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">62. LX. Like as the waves</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Like_as_the_waves">147</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">63. LXVI. Tired with all these </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Tired_with_all_these">148</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">64. LXXI. No longer mourn</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_149">149</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">65. LXXIII. That time of year</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#That_time_of_year">149</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">66. LXXIV. But be contented </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#But_be_contented">150</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">67. CVI. When in the chronicle</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#When_in_the_chronicle">151</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">68. CXVI. Let me not to the marriage </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">69. Song from "The Tempest"</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Song_from_The_Tempest">152</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">70. Song from "Measure for Measure"</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Measure_for_Measure">153</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">71. Song from "Much Ado about Nothing" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Much_Ado">153</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">72. Song from "Cymbeline"</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Cymbeline">154</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#PERCY_BYSSHE_SHELLEY"><span class="smcap">Shelley</span></a> (1792-1822).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">73. Song from "Prometheus Unbound" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">74. Ode to the West Wind </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">75. The Cloud</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#The_Cloud">161</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">76. To a Skylark </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#To_a_Skylark">165</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">77. Chorus from "Hellas" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Chorus_from_Hellas">171</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">78. Stanzas. Written in Dejection, near Naples </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Stanzas">173</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">79. The Indian Serenade</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Indian">176</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">80. To ——</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#To">177</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">81. To Night </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#To_Night">178</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#JAMES_SHIRLEY"><span class="smcap">Shirley</span></a> (1596-1666).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">82. Song from "Ajax and Ulysses" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ROBERT_SOUTHEY"><span class="smcap">Southey</span></a> (1774-1843).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">83. Stanzas</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_183">183</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#ROBERT_LOUIS_STEVENSON"><span class="smcap">Stevenson</span></a> (1850-1894).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">84. Requiem</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_185">185</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#LORD_TENNYSON"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></a> (1809-1892).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">85. Song from "The Miller's Daughter"</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Page_186">186</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">86. St. Agnes' Eve </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#St_Agnes_Eve">187</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">87. Break, break, break</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Break">188</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">88. Song from "The Princess" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Princess">189</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">89. Song from "The Princess" </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">90. Crossing the Bar </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#EDMUND_WALLER"><span class="smcap">Waller</span></a> (1606-1687).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">91. On a Girdle</span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">92. Song </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#WILLIAM_WORDSWORTH"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span></a> (1770-1850).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">93. She dwelt among the untrodden ways </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">94. She was a Phantom of delight </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Phantom">195</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">95. Sonnets. Part I.—XXXIII. The world is too much with us</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Sonnets">197</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">96. Part II.—XXXVI. Earth has not anything </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">97. To a Highland Girl, at Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Highland_Girl">198</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">98. The Solitary Reaper</span> <span class="tocright"> <a href="#Solitary_Reaper">202</a></span></li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">99. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></span></li> + +<li class="poet"><a href="#SIR_HENRY_WOTTON"><span class="smcap">Wotton</span></a> (1568-1639).</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">100. On his Mistress, the Queen of Bohemia </span> <span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></span></li> +</ul> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h1>THE HUNDRED BEST<br /> +ENGLISH POEMS.</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ANONYMOUS" id="ANONYMOUS"></a>ANONYMOUS.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">1. <i>Madrigal.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love not me for comely grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my pleasing eye or face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for any outward part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, nor for my constant heart:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For those may fail or turn to ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">So thou and I shall sever:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep therefore a true woman's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love me still, but know not why;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So hast thou the same reason still<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To doat upon me ever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1609 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MATTHEW_ARNOLD" id="MATTHEW_ARNOLD"></a>MATTHEW ARNOLD.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">2. <i>The Forsaken Merman.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, dear children, let us away;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down and away below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now my brothers call from the bay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the great winds shorewards blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the salt tides seawards flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the wild white horses play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Children dear, let us away.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This way, this way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Call her once before you go.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Call once yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a voice that she will know:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Margaret! Margaret!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children's voices should be dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Call once more) to a mother's ear:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Children's voices, wild with pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Surely she will come again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call her once and come away.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This way, this way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Mother dear, we cannot stay."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild white horses foam and fret.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Margaret! Margaret!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, dear children, come away down.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Call no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One last look at the white-wall'd town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the little grey church on the windy shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then come down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will not come though you call all day.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come away, come away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Children dear, was it yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We heard the sweet bells over the bay?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the caverns where we lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the surf and through the swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The far-off sound of a silver bell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the winds are all asleep;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where the spent lights quiver and gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the salt weed sways in the stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sea-beasts rang'd all round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dry their mail and bask in the brine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where great whales come sailing by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sail and sail, with unshut eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the world for ever and aye?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When did music come this way?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Children dear, was it yesterday?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Children dear, was it yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Call yet once) that she went away?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Once she sate with you and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the youngest sate on her knee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When down swung the sound of the far-off bell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said; "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the little grey church on the shore to-day.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill be Easter-time in the world—ah me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said; "Go up, dear heart, through the waves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She smil'd, she went up through the surf in the bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Children dear, was it yesterday?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Children dear, were we long alone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come," I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We went up the beach, by the sandy down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the narrow pav'd streets, where all was still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the little grey church on the windy hill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But we stood without in the cold blowing airs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We climb'd on the graves, on the stones, worn with rains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we gaz'd up the aisle through the small leaded panes.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah, she gave me never a look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come away, children, call no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come away, come down, call no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Down, down, down.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down to the depths of the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She sits at her wheel in the humming town,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Singing most joyfully.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark, what she sings: "O joy, O joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the humming street, and the child with its toy.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the wheel where I spun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the blessed light of the sun."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And so she sings her fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Singing most joyfully,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the shuttle falls from her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the whizzing wheel stands still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She steals to the window, and looks at the sand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And over the sand at the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And her eyes are set in a stare;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And anon there breaks a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And anon there drops a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From a sorrow-clouded eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a heart sorrow-laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A long, long sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the gleam of her golden hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Come away, away children.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come children, come down.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hoarse wind blows colder;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lights shine in the town.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><span class="i2">She will start from her slumber<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When gusts shake the door;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She will hear the winds howling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will hear the waves roar.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We shall see, while above us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The waves roar and whirl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ceiling of amber,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A pavement of pearl.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Singing, "Here came a mortal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But faithless was she.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And alone dwell for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The kings of the sea."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But, children, at midnight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When soft the winds blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When clear falls the moonlight;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When spring-tides are low:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When sweet airs come seaward<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From heaths starr'd with broom;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And high rocks throw mildly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the blanch'd sands a gloom:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up the still, glistening beaches,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up the creeks we will hie;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Over banks of bright seaweed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ebb-tide leaves dry.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We will gaze, from the sand-hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the white, sleeping town;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the church on the hill-side—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And then come back down.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Singing, "There dwells a lov'd one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But cruel is she.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She left lonely for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The kings of the sea."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1857 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ANNA_LAETITIA_BARBAULD" id="ANNA_LAETITIA_BARBAULD"></a>ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">3. <i>Life.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><small><i>Animula, vagula, blandula.</i></small><br /></span></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life! I know not what thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But know that thou and I must part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when, or how, or where we met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I own to me's a secret yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this I know, when thou art fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er they lay these limbs, this head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No clod so valueless shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As all that then remains of me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O whither, whither dost thou fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where bend unseen thy trackless course,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in this strange divorce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah tell where I must seek this compound I?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the vast ocean of empyreal flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From whence thy essence came,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From matter's base encumbering weed?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Or dost thou, hid from sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Wait, like some spell-bound knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through blank oblivious years the appointed hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To break thy trance and reassume thy power?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O say what art thou, when no more thou'rt thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Life! we've been long together,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then steal away, give little warning,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Choose thine own time;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Say not Good night, but in some brighter clime<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bid me Good morning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1825 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_BROWNING" id="ROBERT_BROWNING"></a>ROBERT BROWNING.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">4. <i><a name="Song_from_Pippa" id="Song_from_Pippa"></a>Song from "Pippa Passes."</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The year's at the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And day's at the morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morning's at seven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hill-side's dew-pearled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lark's on the wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snail's on the thorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's in his heaven—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All's right with the world!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">5. <i><a name="Song_from_Pippa_Passes" id="Song_from_Pippa_Passes"></a>Song from "Pippa Passes."</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You'll love me yet!—and I can tarry<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your love's protracted growing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From seeds of April's sowing.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I plant a heartful now: some seed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At least is sure to strike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yield—what you'll not pluck indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not love, but, may be, like.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You'll look at least on love's remains,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A grave's one violet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your look?—that pays a thousand pains.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What's death? You'll love me yet!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">6. <i>The <a name="Lost_Mistress" id="Lost_Mistress"></a>Lost Mistress.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All's over, then: does truth sound bitter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As one at first believes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night twitter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">About your cottage eaves!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I noticed that, to-day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One day more bursts them open fully<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—You know the red turns grey.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May I take your hand in mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mere friends are we,—well, friends the merest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Keep much that I resign:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For each glance of the eye so bright and black,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though I keep with heart's endeavour,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops back,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though it stay in my soul for ever!—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet I will but say what mere friends say,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or only a thought stronger;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will hold your hand but as long as all may,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or so very little longer!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">7. <a name="Home" id="Home"></a><i>Home-Thoughts, from the Sea.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dimmest North-east distance dawned Gibraltar grand and grey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here and here did England help me: how can I help England?"—say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">8. <a name="Epilogue" id="Epilogue"></a><i>Epilogue.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When you set your fancies free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will they pass to where—by death, fools think, imprisoned—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">—Pity me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What had I on earth to do<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel<br /></span> +<span class="i6">—Being—who?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Never doubted clouds would break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sleep to wake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, at noonday in the bustle of man's work-time<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Greet the unseen with a cheer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Strive and thrive!" cry "Speed,—fight on, fare ever<br /></span> +<span class="i6">There as here!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1896 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_BURNS" id="ROBERT_BURNS"></a>ROBERT BURNS.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">9. <i>The Silver Tassie.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fill it in a silver tassie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I may drink before I go<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A service to my bonie lassie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ship rides by the Berwick-Law,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I maun leave my bonie Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The trumpets sound, the banners fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The glittering spears are rankèd ready,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shouts o' war are heard afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The battle closes deep and bloody.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's not the roar o' sea or shore<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wad mak me langer wish to tarry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It's leaving thee, my bonie Mary!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">10. <i>Of a' the Airts.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of a' the airts the wind can blaw<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I dearly like the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there the bonie lassie lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lassie I lo'e best.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There wild woods grow, and rivers row,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And monie a hill between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But day and night my fancy's flight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is ever wi' my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see her in the dewy flowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I see her sweet and fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear her in the tunefu' birds—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I hear her charm the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a bonie flower that springs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By fountain, shaw, or green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a bonie bird that sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But minds me o' my Jean.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">11. <i>John Anderson my Jo.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Anderson my jo, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When we were first acquent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your locks were like the raven,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your bonie brow was brent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now your brow is beld, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your locks are like the snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blessings on your frosty pow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">John Anderson my jo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Anderson my jo, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We clamb the hill thegither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And monie a cantie day, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We've had wi' ane anither;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now we maun totter down, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hand in hand we'll go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep thegither at the foot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">John Anderson my jo!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">12. <i>Ae Fond Kiss.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae farewell, and then forever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the star of hope she leaves him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark despair around benights me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naething could resist my Nancy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to see her was to love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love but her, and love for ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had we never lov'd sae kindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had we never lov'd sae blindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never met—or never parted—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We had ne'er been broken-hearted.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine be ilka joy and treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae farewell, alas, for ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">13. <i>Ye <a name="Flowery" id="Flowery"></a>Flowery Banks.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How can ye blume sae fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can ye chant, ye little birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I sae fu' o' care?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That sings upon the bough:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou minds me o' the happy days<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When my fause Luve was true!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That sings beside thy mate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sae I sat, and sae I sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And wist na o' my fate!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To see the woodbine twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ilka bird sang o' its luve,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sae did I o' mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Frae aff its thorny tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my fause luver staw my rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But left the thorn wi' me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">14. <i>A Red, <a name="Red_Rose" id="Red_Rose"></a>Red Rose.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, my luve is like a red, red rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That's newly sprung in June.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O, my luve is like the melodie,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That's sweetly play'd in tune.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As fair art thou, my bonie lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So deep in luve am I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will luve thee still, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till a' the seas gang dry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the rocks melt wi' the sun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will luve thee still, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While the sands o' life shall run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And fare the weel, my only luve,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fare the weel a while!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will come again, my luve,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tho' it were ten thousand mile!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">15. <i>Mary Morison.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Mary, at thy window be!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It is the wish'd, the trysted hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those smiles and glances let me see,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That make the miser's treasure poor.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How blythely wad I bide the stoure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A weary slave frae sun to sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Could I the rich reward secure—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely Mary Morison!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yestreen, when to the trembling string<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee my fancy took its wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I sat, but neither heard or saw:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yon the toast of a' the town,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I sigh'd and said amang them a':—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ye are na Mary Morison!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or canst thou break that heart of his<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whase only faut is loving thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If love for love thou wilt na gie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least be pity to me shown:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A thought ungentle canna be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought o' Mary Morison.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Henderson and Henley's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LORD_BYRON" id="LORD_BYRON"></a>LORD BYRON.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">16. <i>She Walks in Beauty.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She walks in Beauty, like the night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of cloudless climes and starry skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that's best of dark and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Meet in her aspect and her eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus mellowed to that tender light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One shade the more, one ray the less,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Had half impaired the nameless grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which waves in every raven tress,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or softly lightens o'er her face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thoughts serenely sweet express,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The smiles that win, the tints that glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But tell of days in goodness spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mind at peace with all below,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A heart whose love is innocent!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">17. <i>Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But on thy turf shall roses rear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their leaves, the earliest of the year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">And oft by yon blue gushing stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And feed deep thought with many a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lingering pause and lightly tread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Away! we know that tears are vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Death nor heeds nor hears distress:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Will this unteach us to complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or make one mourner weep the less?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thou—who tell'st me to forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">18. <i>Song from "The Corsair."</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lonely and lost to light for evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save when to thine my heart responsive swells,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then trembles into silence as before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, in its centre, a sepulchral lamp<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Burns the slow flame, eternal—but unseen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which not the darkness of Despair can damp,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though vain its ray as it had never been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember me—Oh! pass not thou my grave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Without one thought whose relics there recline:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only pang my bosom dare not brave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Must be to find forgetfulness in thine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My fondest—faintest—latest accents hear—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then give me all I ever asked—a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The first—last—sole reward of so much love!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">19. <i>Song from "<a name="Don_Juan" id="Don_Juan"></a>Don Juan."</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where burning Sappho loved and sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where grew the arts of War and Peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal summer gilds them yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all, except their Sun, is set.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Scian and the Teian muse,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Hero's harp, the Lover's lute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have found the fame your shores refuse:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their place of birth alone is mute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sounds which echo further west<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than your Sires' "Islands of the Blest."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mountains look on Marathon—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Marathon looks on the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And musing there an hour alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I dreamed that Greece might still be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For standing on the Persians' grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could not deem myself a slave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A King sate on the rocky brow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ships, by thousands, lay below,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And men in nations;—all were his!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He counted them at break of day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when the Sun set, where were they?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And where are they? and where art thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My Country? On thy voiceless shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heroic lay is tuneless now—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The heroic bosom beats no more!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And must thy Lyre, so long divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Degenerate into hands like mine?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">VI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis something, in the dearth of Fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though linked among a fettered race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel at least a patriot's shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even as I sing, suffuse my face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what is left the poet here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Greeks a blush—for Greece a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">VII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Must <i>we</i> but weep o'er days more blest?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Must <i>we</i> but blush?—Our fathers bled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth! render back from out thy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A remnant of our Spartan dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the three hundred grant but three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make a new Thermopylæ!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">VIII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What, silent still? and silent all?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah! no;—the voices of the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sound like a distant torrent's fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And answer, "Let one living head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one arise,—we come, we come!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but the living who are dumb.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">IX.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain—in vain: strike other chords;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fill high the cup with Samian wine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And shed the blood of Scio's vine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! rising to the ignoble call—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How answers each bold Bacchanal!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">X.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of two such lessons, why forget<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The nobler and the manlier one?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have the letters Cadmus gave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think ye he meant them for a slave?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">XI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We will not think of themes like these!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It made Anacreon's song divine:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He served—but served Polycrates—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Tyrant; but our masters then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were still, at least, our countrymen.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">XII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Tyrant of the Chersonese<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was Freedom's best and bravest friend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That</i> tyrant was Miltiades!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh! that the present hour would lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another despot of the kind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such chains as his were sure to bind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">XIII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exists the remnant of a line<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such as the Doric mothers bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, perhaps, some seed is sown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Heracleidan blood might own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">XIV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust not for freedom to the Franks—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They have a king who buys and sells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In native swords, and native ranks,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The only hope of courage dwells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would break your shield, however broad.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">XV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our virgins dance beneath the shade—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see their glorious black eyes shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But gazing on each glowing maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own the burning tear-drop laves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think such breasts must suckle slaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">XVI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where nothing, save the waves and I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There, swan-like, let me sing and die:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Coleridge's Text.</i></small><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_CAMPBELL" id="THOMAS_CAMPBELL"></a>THOMAS CAMPBELL.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">20. <i>Hohenlinden.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Linden, when the sun was low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dark as winter was the flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Linden saw another sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the drum beat, at dead of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commanding fires of death to light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkness of her scenery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By torch and trumpet fast array'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each horseman drew his battle blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And furious every charger neigh'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To join the dreadful revelry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And louder than the bolts of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far flash'd the red artillery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But redder yet that light shall glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Linden's hills of stained snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bloodier yet the torrent flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The combat deepens. On, ye brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who rush to glory, or the grave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And charge with all thy chivalry!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Few, few, shall part where many meet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snow shall be their winding sheet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every turf beneath their feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1809 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ARTHUR_HUGH_CLOUGH" id="ARTHUR_HUGH_CLOUGH"></a>ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">21. <i>Say not the Struggle Nought Availeth.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say not, the struggle nought availeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The labour and the wounds are vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The enemy faints not, nor faileth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And as things have been they remain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It may be, in yon smoke concealed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And, but for you, possess the field.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seem here no painful inch to gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far back, through creeks and inlets making,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Comes silent, flooding in, the main.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And not by eastern windows only,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When daylight comes, comes in the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But westward, look, the land is bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1869 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SAMUEL_TAYLOR_COLERIDGE" id="SAMUEL_TAYLOR_COLERIDGE"></a>SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">22. <i>Youth and Age.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both were mine! Life went a maying<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">When I was young!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I was young?—Ah, woful when!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This breathing house not built with hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This body that does me grievous wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How lightly then it flashed along:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On winding lakes and rivers wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ask no aid of sail or oar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fear no spite of wind or tide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought cared this body for wind or weather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Youth and I liv'd in't together.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friendship is a sheltering tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! the joys, that came down shower-like,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Ere I was old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which tells me, Youth's no longer here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Youth! for years so many and sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis known, that Thou and I were one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll think it but a fond conceit—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It cannot be, that Thou art gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou wert aye a masker bold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What strange disguise hast now put on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make believe, that Thou art gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see these locks in silvery slips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This drooping gait, this altered size:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But springtide blossoms on thy lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life is but thought: so think I will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Youth and I are house-mates still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dew-drops are the gems of morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the tears of mournful eve!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where no hope is, life's a warning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That only serves to make us grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">When we are old:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That only serves to make us grieve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With oft and tedious taking-leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some poor nigh-related guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That may not rudely be dismist.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hath outstay'd his welcome while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tells the jest without the smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1869 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_COLLINS" id="WILLIAM_COLLINS"></a>WILLIAM COLLINS.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">23. <i>Written in the Year 1746.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sleep the brave, who sink to rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all their country's wishes bless'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She there shall dress a sweeter sod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By fairy hands their knell is rung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By forms unseen their dirge is sung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bless the turf that wraps their clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Freedom shall a while repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dwell a weeping hermit there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1822 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_COWPER" id="WILLIAM_COWPER"></a>WILLIAM COWPER.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">24. <i>To a Young Lady.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apt emblem of a virtuous maid—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent and chaste she steals along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from the world's gay busy throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gentle, yet prevailing, force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intent upon her destin'd course;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graceful and useful all she does,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessing and blest where'er she goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure-bosom'd as that wat'ry glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heav'n reflected in her face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1813 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM" id="ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM"></a>ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">25. <i>A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wet sheet and a flowing sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A wind that follows fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fills the white and rustling sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bends the gallant mast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bends the gallant mast, my boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While, like the eagle free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away the good ship flies, and leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Old England on the lee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O for a soft and gentle wind!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I heard a fair one cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But give to me the snoring breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And white waves heaving high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And white waves heaving high, my boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The good ship tight and free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world of waters is our home,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And merry men are we.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's tempest in yon horned moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And lightning in yon cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hark the music, mariners!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The wind is piping loud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind is piping loud, my boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lightning flashing free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the hollow oak our palace is,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our heritage the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1847 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SIR_WILLIAM_DAVENANT" id="SIR_WILLIAM_DAVENANT"></a>SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">26. <i>Song.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And, climbing, shakes his dewy wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He takes this window for the east;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And to implore your light, he sings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Awake, awake! the morn will never rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The ploughman from the sun his season takes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the lover wonders what they are,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who look for day before his mistress wakes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake, awake! break thro' your veils of lawn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1810 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHN_DRYDEN" id="JOHN_DRYDEN"></a>JOHN DRYDEN.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">27. <i>A Song for St. Cecilia's Day, 1687.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From harmony, from heav'nly harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This universal frame began:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When nature underneath a heap<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of jarring atoms lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cou'd not heave her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tuneful voice was heard from high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arise, ye more than dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In order to their stations leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Music's power obey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From harmony, from heavenly harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This universal frame began:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From harmony to harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the compass of the notes it ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The diapason closing full in Man.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What passion cannot Music raise and quell!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Jubal struck the corded shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His list'ning brethren stood around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, wond'ring, on their faces fell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To worship that celestial sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less than a God they thought there could not dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the hollow of that shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That spoke so sweetly and so well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What passion cannot Music raise and quell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The trumpet's loud clangour<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Excites us to arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With shrill notes of anger<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And mortal alarms.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The double double double beat<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of the thund'ring drum<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cries, Hark! the foes come;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">The soft complaining flute<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In dying notes discovers<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The woes of hopeless lovers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Sharp violins proclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their jealous pangs, and desperation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fury, frantic indignation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Depth of pains, and height of passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For the fair, disdainful dame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">VI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But oh! what art can teach,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">What human voice can reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sacred organ's praise?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Notes inspiring holy love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Notes that wing their heavenly ways<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To mend the choirs above.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">VII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Orpheus cou'd lead the savage race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trees uprooted left their place,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sequacious of the lyre:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to her organ vocal breath was giv'n,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An angel heard, and straight appear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Mistaking Earth for Heav'n.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4 smcap">Grand Chorus.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"><i>As from the pow'r of sacred lays</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The spheres began to move,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>And sung the great Creator's praise</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>To all the Bless'd above;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>So when the last and dreadful hour</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>This crumbling pageant shall devour,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>The trumpet shall be heard on high,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>The dead shall live, the living die,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>And Music shall untune the sky.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1743 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH" id="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH"></a>OLIVER GOLDSMITH.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">28. <i>Song.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wretch condemn'd with life to part,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still, still on hope relies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ev'ry pang that rends the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bids expectation rise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Adorns and cheers the way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still, as darker grows the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Emits a brighter ray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1816 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_GRAY" id="THOMAS_GRAY"></a>THOMAS GRAY.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">29. <i>Elegy written in a Country Church-yard.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And leaves the world to darkness and to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all the air a solemn stillness holds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The moping owl does to the moon complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of such as, wand'ring near her secret bow'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Molest her ancient solitary reign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or busy housewife ply her evening care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No children run to lisp their sire's return,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How jocund did they drive their team afield!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let not ambition mock their useful toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The short and simple annals of the poor.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Await alike th' inevitable hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The paths of glory lead but to the grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can storied urn, or animated bust,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But knowledge to their eyes her ample page<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And froze the genial current of the soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And waste its sweetness on the desert air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some village-Hampden, that, with dauntless breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The little tyrant of his fields withstood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The threats of pain and ruin to despise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And read their history in a nation's eyes,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib'd alone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Forbade to wade thro' slaughter to a throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the cool sequester'd vale of life<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some frail memorial still erected nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The place of fame and elegy supply:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a holy text around she strews,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That teach the rustic moralist to die.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On some fond breast the parting soul relies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some pious drops the closing eye requires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If chance, by lonely contemplation led,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To meet the sun upon the upland lawn:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His listless length at noontide would he stretch,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And pore upon the brook that babbles by.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another came; nor yet beside the rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The next, with dirges due in sad array<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5 smcap">The Epitaph.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here rests his head upon the lap of earth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And melancholy mark'd him for her own.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaven did a recompense as largely send:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He gain'd from heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No farther seek his merits to disclose,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The bosom of his Father and his God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Mitford's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_ERNEST_HENLEY" id="WILLIAM_ERNEST_HENLEY"></a>WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">30. <i>To R. T. H. B.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of the night that covers me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Black as the Pit from pole to pole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thank whatever gods may be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For my unconquerable soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the fell clutch of circumstance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I have not winced nor cried aloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the bludgeonings of chance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My head is bloody, but unbowed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beyond this place of wrath and tears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Looms but the Horror of the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet the menace of the years<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It matters not how strait the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How charged with punishments the scroll,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I am the master of my fate:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I am the captain of my soul.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">31. <i>I. M.</i><br /> +<span class="secline"><i>Margaritæ Sorori</i><br /></span> +<span class="secline"><i>(1886)</i></span></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A late lark twitters from the quiet skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sun, his day's work ended,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lingers as in content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There falls on the old, grey city<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An influence luminous and serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shining peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The smoke ascends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine, and are changed. In the valley<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closing his benediction,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sinks, and the darkening air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night with her train of stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her great gift of sleep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So be my passing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My task accomplished and the long day done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wages taken, and in my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some late lark singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me be gathered to the quiet west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sundown splendid and serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1898 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GEORGE_HERBERT" id="GEORGE_HERBERT"></a>GEORGE HERBERT.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">32. <i>Virtue.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bridal of the earth and sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thou must die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy root is ever in its grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou must die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A box where sweets compacted lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My music shows ye have your closes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all must die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only a sweet and virtuous soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like season'd timber, never gives;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though the whole world turn to coal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then chiefly lives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1633 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_HERRICK" id="ROBERT_HERRICK"></a>ROBERT HERRICK.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">33. <i>To the Virgins, to make much of Time.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old Time is still a-flying:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And this same flower that smiles to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow will be dying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">2. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The higher he's a-getting;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sooner will his race be run,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nearer he's to setting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">3. That age is best, which is the first,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When youth and blood are warmer;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But being spent, the worse, and worst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Times, still succeed the former.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">4. Then be not coy, but use your time;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And while ye may, go marry:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For having lost but once your prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You may for ever tarry.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">34. <i>To Anthea, who may command him anything.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. Bid me to live, and I will live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy Protestant to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or bid me love, and I will give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A loving heart to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">2. A heart as soft, a heart as kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heart as sound and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As in the whole world thou canst find,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That heart I'll give to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">3. Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To honour thy decree:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or bid it languish quite away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And't shall do so for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">4. Bid me to weep, and I will weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While I have eyes to see:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And having none, yet I will keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heart to weep for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">5. Bid me despair, and I'll despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under that cypress tree:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Or bid me die, and I will dare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en death, to die for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">6. Thou art my life, my love, my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The very eyes of me:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hast command of every part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To live and die for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Grosart's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_HOOD" id="THOMAS_HOOD"></a>THOMAS HOOD</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">35. <i>The Death Bed.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We watch'd her breathing through the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her breathing soft and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in her breast the wave of life<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Kept heaving to and fro.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So silently we seem'd to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So slowly moved about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we had lent her half our powers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To eke her living out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our very hopes belied our fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our fears our hopes belied—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We thought her dying when she slept,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sleeping when she died.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For when the morn came dim and sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And chill with early showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her quiet eyelids closed—she had<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Another morn than ours.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">36. <i>The Bridge of Sighs.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><small>"Drown'd! drown'd!"—<i>Hamlet.</i></small><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One more Unfortunate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weary of breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rashly importunate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gone to her death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take her up tenderly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lift her with care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fashion'd so slenderly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young, and so fair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look at her garments<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clinging like cerements;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst the wave constantly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drips from her clothing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take her up instantly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loving, not loathing.—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Touch her not scornfully;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of her mournfully,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gently and humanly;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Not of the stains of her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that remains of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now is pure womanly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Make no deep scrutiny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into her mutiny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rash and undutiful:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past all dishonour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death has left on her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the beautiful.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still, for all slips of hers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of Eve's family—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wipe those poor lips of hers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oozing so clammily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loop up her tresses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Escaped from the comb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fair auburn tresses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst wonderment guesses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where was her home?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who was her father?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who was her mother?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Had she a sister?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had she a brother?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or was there a dearer one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, and a nearer one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, than all other?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! for the rarity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Christian charity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the sun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! it was pitiful!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near a whole city full,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home she had none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sisterly, brotherly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fatherly, motherly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feelings had changed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, by harsh evidence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrown from its eminence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even God's providence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeming estranged.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the lamps quiver<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far in the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a light<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +<span class="i0">From window and casement,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From garret to basement,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stood, with amazement,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Houseless by night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bleak wind of March<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made her tremble and shiver;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not the dark arch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the black flowing river:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mad from life's history,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad to death's mystery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift to be hurl'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any where, any where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the world!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In she plunged boldly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter how coldly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rough river ran,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the brink of it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Picture it—think of it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissolute Man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lave in it, drink of it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, if you can!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take her up tenderly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lift her with care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fashion'd so slenderly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young, and so fair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere her limbs frigidly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stiffen too rigidly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decently,—kindly,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smooth, and compose them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her eyes, close them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Staring so blindly!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dreadfully staring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thro' muddy impurity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when with the daring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last look of despairing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fix'd on futurity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perishing gloomily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spurr'd by contumely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold inhumanity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning insanity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into her rest.—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Cross her hands humbly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if praying dumbly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over her breast!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Owning her weakness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her evil behaviour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leaving, with meekness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sins to her Saviour!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">37. <a name="I_Remember" id="I_Remember"></a><i>I Remember, I Remember.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I remember, I remember,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The house where I was born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little window where the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came peeping in at morn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He never came a wink too soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor brought too long a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, I often wish the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had borne my breath away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I remember, I remember,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roses, red and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The violets, and the lily cups,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those flowers made of light!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The lilacs where the robin built,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where my brother set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laburnum on his birth-day,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tree is living yet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I remember, I remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I was used to swing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thought the air must rush as fresh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To swallows on the wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit flew in feathers then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is so heavy now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer pools could hardly cool<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fever on my brow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I remember, I remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fir trees dark and high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I used to think their slender tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were close against the sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a childish ignorance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now 'tis little joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know I'm farther off from Heav'n<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than when I was a boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1862-3 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BEN_JONSON" id="BEN_JONSON"></a>BEN JONSON</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">38. <i>To Celia.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drink to me, only with thine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I will pledge with mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or leave a kiss but in the cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I'll not look for wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thirst, that from the soul doth rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doth ask a drink divine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But might I of Jove's nectar sup,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I would not change for thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sent thee late a rosy wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not so much honouring thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As giving it a hope, that there<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It could not wither'd be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou thereon didst only breathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sent'st it back to me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not of itself, but thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Cunningham's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JOHN_KEATS" id="JOHN_KEATS"></a>JOHN KEATS</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">39. <i>On first looking into Chapman's Homer.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Round many western islands have I been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft of one wide expanse had I been told<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That deep-brow'd Homer rul'd as his demesne;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet did I never breathe its pure serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then felt I like some watcher of the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When a new planet swims into his ken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He star'd at the Pacific—and all his men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked at each other with a wild surmise—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Silent, upon a peak in Darien.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">40. <i>Ode to a Nightingale.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">1.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But being too happy in thine happiness,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In some melodious plot<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Singest of summer in full-throated ease.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">2.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O for a draught of vintage! that hath been<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tasting of Flora and the country green,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O for a beaker full of the warm South,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +<span class="i2">With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And purple-stained mouth;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with thee fade away into the forest dim:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">3.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What thou among the leaves hast never known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weariness, the fever, and the fret<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where but to think is to be full of sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And leaden-ey'd despairs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">4.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away! away! for I will fly to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on the viewless wings of Poesy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already with thee! tender is the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But here there is no light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">5.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wherewith the seasonable month endows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And mid-May's eldest child,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +<span class="i1">The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">6.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Darkling I listen; and, for many a time<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I have been half in love with easeful Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To take into the air my quiet breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now more than ever seems it rich to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To cease upon the midnight with no pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In such an ecstasy!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thy high requiem become a sod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">7.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No hungry generations tread thee down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice I hear this passing night was heard<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In ancient days by emperor and clown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps the self-same song that found a path<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +<span class="i2">She stood in tears amid the alien corn;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The same that oft-times hath<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">8.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forlorn! the very word is like a bell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To toll me back from thee to my sole self!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Past the near meadows, over the still stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the next valley-glades:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was it a vision, or a waking dream?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">41. <i>Ode on a <a name="Grecian_Urn" id="Grecian_Urn"></a>Grecian Urn.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">1.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sylvan historian, who canst thus express<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +<span class="i0">What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of deities or mortals, or of both,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">2.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">3.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, happy melodist, unwearied,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For ever piping songs for ever new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More happy love! more happy, happy love!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever panting, and for ever young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All breathing human passion far above,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">4.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who are these coming to the sacrifice?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To what green altar, O mysterious priest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What little town by river or sea shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, little town, thy streets for evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will silent be; and not a soul to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">5.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of marble men and maidens overwrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With forest branches and the trodden weed;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When old age shall this generation waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,'—that is all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">42. <i>To <a name="Autumn" id="Autumn"></a>Autumn.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">1.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conspiring with him how to load and bless<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +<span class="i2">To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still more, later flowers for the bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until they think warm days will never cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">2.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Steady thy laden head across a brook;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">3.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Among the river sallows, borne aloft<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">43. <i>Ode on <a name="Melancholy" id="Melancholy"></a>Melancholy.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">1.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Make not your rosary of yew-berries,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For shade to shade will come too drowsily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">2.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when the melancholy fit shall fall<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hides the green hill in an April shroud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or on the wealth of globed peonies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">3.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, in the very temple of Delight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be among her cloudy trophies hung.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">44. <i><a name="La_Belle" id="La_Belle"></a>La Belle Dame sans Merci.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">1.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Alone and palely loitering;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sedge is wither'd from the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And no birds sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">2.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So haggard and so woe-begone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The squirrel's granary is full,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the harvest's done.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">3.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see a lily on thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With anguish moist and fever dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on thy cheek a fading rose<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fast withereth too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">4.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I met a lady in the meads<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Full beautiful, a faery's child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair was long, her foot was light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And her eyes were wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">5.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I set her on my pacing steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And nothing else saw all day long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sideways would she lean, and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A faery's song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">6.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I made a garland for her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She look'd at me as she did love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And made sweet moan.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">7.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She found me roots of relish sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And honey wild, and manna dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sure in language strange she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I love thee true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">8.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She took me to her elfin grot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And there she gaz'd and sighed deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there I shut her wild sad eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So kiss'd to sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">9.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there we slumber'd on the moss,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And there I dream'd, ah woe betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The latest dream I ever dream'd<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the cold hill-side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">10.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw pale kings, and princes too,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who cry'd—"La belle Dame sans merci<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hath thee in thrall!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">11.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With horrid warning gaped wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I awoke, and found me here<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the cold hill-side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">12.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And this is why I sojourn here<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Alone and palely loitering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And no birds sing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">45. <a name="Sonnet" id="Sonnet"></a><i>Sonnet.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I have fears that I may cease to be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before high-piled books, in charactery,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And think that I may never live to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That I shall never look upon thee more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never have relish in the faery power<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of unreflecting love;—then on the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the wide world I stand alone, and think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Buxton Forman's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHARLES_LAMB" id="CHARLES_LAMB"></a>CHARLES LAMB.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">46. <i>The Old Familiar Faces.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where are they gone, the old familiar faces?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had a mother, but she died, and left me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Died prematurely in a day of horrors—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have had playmates, I have had companions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have been laughing, I have been carousing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lov'd a love once, fairest among women;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clos'd are her doors on me, I must not see her—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ghost-like, I pac'd round the haunts of my childhood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking to find the old familiar faces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why were not thou born in my father's dwelling?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So might we talk of the old familiar faces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For some they have died, and some they have left me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And some are taken from me</i>; all are departed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1798 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WALTER_SAVAGE_LANDOR" id="WALTER_SAVAGE_LANDOR"></a>WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">47. <i>The Maid's Lament.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I loved him not; and yet now he is gone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I feel I am alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I check'd him while he spoke; yet could he speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Alas! I would not check.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For reasons not to love him once I sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And wearied all my thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vex myself and him: I now would give<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My love, could he but live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lately lived for me, and when he found<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Twas vain, in holy ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hid his face amid the shades of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I waste for him my breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who wasted his for me: but mine returns,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And this lorn bosom burns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And waking me to weep<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wept he as bitter tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Merciful God!</i> such was his latest prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>These may she never share!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than daisies in the mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His name and life's brief date.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And oh! pray too for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1868 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RICHARD_LOVELACE" id="RICHARD_LOVELACE"></a>RICHARD LOVELACE.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">48. <i>To Lucasta. Going to the Wars.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That from the nunnery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To war and arms I fly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">True: a new Mistress now I chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The first foe in the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a stronger faith embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A sword, a horse, a shield.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet this inconstancy is such,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As you too shall adore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could not love thee, dear, so much,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lov'd I not Honour more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Carew Hazlitt's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JOHN_MILTON" id="JOHN_MILTON"></a>JOHN MILTON.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">49. <i>On the Morning of Christ's Nativity.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">This is the month, and this the happy morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of wedded Maid and Virgin-Mother born,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our great redemption from above did bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For so the holy sages once did sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That he our deadly forfeit should release,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">That glorious form, that light unsufferable,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He laid aside; and, here with us to be,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Forsook the courts of everlasting day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afford a present to the Infant God?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To welcome him to this his new abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now, while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hath took no print of the approaching light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">See how from far upon the eastern road<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh! run, prevent them with thy humble ode,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +<span class="i1">And join thy voice unto the angel quire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6 smcap">The Hymn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">It was the winter wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">While the heaven-born child<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nature in awe to him<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Had doffed her gaudy trim,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With her great Master so to sympathize.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was no season then for her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wanton with the Sun her lusty paramour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Only with speeches fair<br /></span> +<span class="i3">She woos the gentle air<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And on her naked shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Pollute with sinful blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The saintly veil of maiden-white to throw,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Confounded, that her Maker's eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should look so near upon her foul deformities.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">But he, her fears to cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sent down the meek-eyed Peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She, crowned with olive-green, came softly sliding<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Down through the turning sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">His ready harbinger,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, waving wide her myrtle wand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She strikes an universal peace through sea and land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">No war or battle's sound<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Was heard the world around;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The idle spear and shield were high up hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The hooked chariot stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Unstained with hostile blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And kings sat still with awful eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">But peaceful was the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Wherein the Prince of Light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His reign of peace upon the earth began.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The winds, with wonder whist,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Smoothly the waters kissed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who now hath quite forgot to rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">VI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">The stars, with deep amaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Stand fixed in steadfast gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bending one way their precious influence,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And will not take their flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For all the morning-light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But in their glimmering orbs did glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">VII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">And, though the shady gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Had given day her room,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sun himself withheld his wonted speed;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And hid his head for shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As his inferior flame<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The new-enlightened world no more should need;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He saw a greater sun appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than his bright throne or burning axletree could bear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">VIII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">The shepherds on the lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Or ere the point of dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sat simply chatting in a rustic row;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Full little thought they than<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That the mighty Pan<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was kindly come to live with them below.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">IX.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">When such music sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Their hearts and ears did greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As never was by mortal finger strook;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Divinely-warbled voice<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Answering the stringed noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As all their souls in blissful rapture took.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The air, such pleasure loth to lose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">X.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Nature, that heard such sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Beneath the hollow round<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Now was almost won<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To think her part was done,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And that her reign had here its last fulfilling.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She knew such harmony alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">At last surrounds their sight<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A globe of circular light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That with long beams the shame-faced Night arrayed.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The helmed Cherubim,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And sworded Seraphim,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are seen, in glittering ranks with wings displayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Harping, in loud and solemn quire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Such music—as 'tis said—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Before was never made,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But when of old the Sons of Morning sung;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">While the Creator great<br /></span> +<span class="i3">His constellations set,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the well-balanced World on hinges hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cast the dark foundations deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XIII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Ring out, ye crystal spheres!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Once bless our human ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—If ye have power to touch our senses so—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And let your silver-chime<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Move in melodious time,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And let the base of heaven's deep organ blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with your ninefold harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XIV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">For if such holy song<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Enwrap our fancy long,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Time will run back, and fetch the Age of Gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And speckled Vanity<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Will sicken soon and die,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Hell itself will pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Yea Truth and Justice then<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Will down return to men,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Orbed in a rainbow, and like glories wearing;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Mercy will sit between,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Throned in celestial sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Heaven, as at some festival,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XVI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">But wisest Fate says No,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">This must not yet be so,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That, on the bitter cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Must redeem our loss;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So both himself and us to glorify:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet first, to those ychained in sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XVII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">With such a horrid clang<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As on Mount Sinai rang,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The aged earth aghast,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With terror of that blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall from the surface to the centre shake;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, at the world's last session,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XVIII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">And then at last our bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Full and perfect is,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But now begins; for from this happy day<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The Old Dragon under ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In straiter limits bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not half so far casts his usurped sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XIX.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">The oracles are dumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">No voice or hideous hum<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Apollo from his shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Can no more divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No nightly trance, or breathed spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XX.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">The lonely mountains o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And the resounding shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From haunted spring, and dale<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Edged with poplar pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The parting Genius is with sighing sent;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With flower-inwoven tresses torn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">In consecrated earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And on the holy hearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In urns and altars round,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A drear and dying sound<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the chill marble seems to sweat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Peor and Baälim<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Forsake their temples dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With that twice battered god of Palestine;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And mooned Ashtaroth,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Heaven's queen and mother both,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXIII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">And sullen Moloch, fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Hath left in shadows dread<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His burning idol all of blackest hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In vain with cymbals' ring<br /></span> +<span class="i3">They call the grisly king,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In dismal dance about the furnace blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The brutish gods of Nile as fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis haste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXIV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Nor is Osiris seen<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In Memphian grove or green,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nor can he be at rest<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Within his sacred chest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain, with timbrelled anthems dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">He feels, from Juda's land,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The dreaded Infant's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nor all the gods beside<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Longer dare abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor Typhon huge ending in snaky twine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our Babe, to shew his Godhead true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can in his swaddling-bands control the damned crew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXVI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">So when the sun in bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Curtained with cloudy red,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The flocking shadows pale<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Troop to the infernal jail,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the yellow-skirted fayes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly after the Night steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXVII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">But see! the Virgin blest<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Hath laid her Babe to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Time is our tedious song should here have ending;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Heaven's youngest-teemed star<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Hath fixed her polished car,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her sleeping Lord with handmaid-lamp attending;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all about the courtly stable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">50. <a name="LAllegro" id="LAllegro"></a><i>L'Allegro.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Hence, loathed Melancholy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In Stygian cave forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Find out some uncouth cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And the night-raven sings;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As ragged as thy locks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But come, thou Goddess fair and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In Heaven yclept Euphrosynè,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And by men, heart-easing Mirth;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whom lovely Venus, at a birth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With two sister Graces more,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or whether, as some sager sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The frolic wind that breathes the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Zephyr, with Aurora playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As he met her once a-maying,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There, on beds of violets blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fresh-blown roses washed in dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Filled her with thee, a daughter fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So buxom, blithe, and debonair.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Jest, and youthful Jollity,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nods and Becks, and wreathed Smiles—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And love to live in dimple sleek;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Laughter, holding both his sides:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Come, and trip it as you go<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the light fantastic toe;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in thy right hand lead with thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And, if I give thee honour due,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mirth, admit me of thy crew<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To live with her and live with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In unreproved pleasures free;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To hear the lark begin his flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And singing startle the dull night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From his watch-tower in the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till the dappled dawn doth rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then to come, in spite of sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And at my window bid good-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or the twisted eglantine;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While the cock, with lively din,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Scatters the rear of darkness thin,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And, to the stack or the barn-door,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Stoutly struts his dames before:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oft listening how the hounds and horn<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Cheerly rouse the slumbering Morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From the side of some hoar hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through the high wood echoing shrill.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sometime walking, not unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Right against the eastern gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the great Sun begins his state,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Robed in flames and amber light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The clouds in thousand liveries dight;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While the ploughman, near at hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whistles o'er the furrowed land,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the milkmaid singeth blithe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the mower whets his scythe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And every shepherd tells his tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Under the hawthorn in the dale.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whilst the landscape round it measures;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Russet lawns, and fallows gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the nibbling flocks do stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mountains on whose barren breast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The labouring clouds do often rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Meadows trim with daisies pied,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shallow brooks, and rivers wide,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Towers and battlements it sees,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bosomed high in tufted trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where perhaps some Beauty lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hard by a cottage-chimney smokes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From betwixt two aged oaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are at their savoury dinner set<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of herbs and other country messes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And then in haste her bower she leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With Thestylis to bind the sheaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or, if the earlier season lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the tanned haycock in the mead.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sometimes, with secure delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The upland hamlets will invite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the merry bells ring round,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the jocund rebecks sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To many a youth and many a maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dancing in the chequered shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And young and old come forth to play<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On a sunshine holiday,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till the live-long daylight fail;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With stories told of many a feat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How faery Mab the junkets eat;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She was pinched and pulled, she said;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And he, by Friar's lantern led,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tells how the drudging goblin sweat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To earn his cream-bowl duly set,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That ten day-labourers could not end;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then lies him down, the lubber-fiend,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And, stretched out all the chimney's length,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Basks at the fire his hairy strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And crop-full out of doors he flings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ere the first cock his matin rings.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By whispering winds soon lulled asleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Towered cities please us then,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the busy hum of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where throngs of knights and barons bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With store of ladies, whose bright eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rain influence, and judge the prize<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Of wit or arms, while both contend<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To win her grace, whom all commend.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There let Hymen oft appear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In saffron robe, with taper clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And pomp, and feast, and revelry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With mask and antique pageantry;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such sights as youthful poets dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On summer-eves by haunted stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then to the well-trod stage anon,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If Jonson's learned sock be on,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Warble his native wood-notes wild.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ever, against eating cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lap me in soft Lydian airs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Married to immortal verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such as the meeting soul may pierce,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In notes with many a winding bout<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of linked sweetness long drawn out,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With wanton heed and giddy cunning<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The melting voice through mazes running<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Untwisting all the chains that tie<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The hidden soul of harmony;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That Orpheus' self may heave his head,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +<span class="i1">From golden slumber on a bed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such strains as would have won the ear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Pluto, to have quite set free<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His half-regained Eurydicè.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These delights if thou canst give,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mirth, with thee I mean to live.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">51. <a name="Il_Penseroso" id="Il_Penseroso"></a><i>Il Penseroso.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hence, vain deluding Joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brood of Folly without father bred!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How little you bested,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dwell in some idle brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As thick and numberless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the gay motes that people the sunbeams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or likest hovering dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But hail, thou Goddess sage and holy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hail, divinest Melancholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose saintly visage is too bright<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To hit the sense of human sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore to our weaker view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black, but such as in esteem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prince Memnon's sister might beseem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To set her beauty's praise above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Sea-Nymphs', and their powers offended:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thou art higher far descended.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To solitary Saturn bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His daughter she; in Saturn's reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such mixture was not held a stain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft in glimmering bowers and glades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He met her, and in secret shades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of woody Ida's inmost grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While yet there was no fear of Jove.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sober, steadfast, and demure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All in a robe of darkest grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowing with majestic train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sable stole of Cyprus lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over thy decent shoulders drawn.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Come, but keep thy wonted state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With even step, and musing gait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looks commercing with the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, held in holy passion still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget thyself to marble, till<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a sad, leaden, downward cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou fix them on the earth as fast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hears the Muses in a ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye round about Jove's altar sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And add to these retired Leisure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, first and chiefest, with thee bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him that yon soars on golden wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Cherub Contemplation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mute Silence hist along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Less Philomel will deign a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her sweetest, saddest plight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smoothing the rugged brow of Night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Cynthia checks her dragon-yoke,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Gently o'er the accustomed oak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet bird, that shunnest the noise of folly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most musical, most melancholy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee, chantress, oft the woods among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I woo to hear thy even-song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And missing thee I walk unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the dry, smooth-shaven green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To behold the wandering moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Riding near her highest noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one that has been led astray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the heaven's wide pathless way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft, as if her head she bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stooping through a fleecy cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oft, on a plat of rising ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the far-off curfew sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over some wide-watered shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swinging slow with sullen roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, if the air will not permit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some still, removed place will fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where glowing embers through the room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from all resort of mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the cricket on the hearth,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or the bellman's drowsy charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bless the doors from nightly harm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or let my lamp, at midnight-hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be seen in some high, lonely tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit of Plato, to unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What worlds or what vast regions hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The immortal mind, that hath forsook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mansion in this fleshly nook;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of those demons that are found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fire, air, flood, or underground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose power hath a true consent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With planet, or with element.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sceptred pall come sweeping by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the tale of Troy divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or what, though rare, of later age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ennobled hath the buskined stage.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But, O sad Virgin! that thy power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might raise Musæus from his bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Such notes as warbled to the string<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made Hell grant what love did seek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or call up him that left half-told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The story of Cambuscan bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Camball, and of Algarsife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who had Canacè to wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That owned the virtuous ring and glass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of the wondrous horse of brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which the Tartar king did ride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if ought else great bards beside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sage and solemn tunes have sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tourneys and of trophies hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of forests and enchantments drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where more is meant than meets the ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till civil-suited Morn appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not tricked and frounced, as she was wont<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the Attic boy to hunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But kerchiefed in a comely cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While rocking winds are piping loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ushered with a shower still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the gust hath blown his fill,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ending on the rustling leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With minute-drops from off the eaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And when the sun begins to fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To arched walks of twilight groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pine, or monumental oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the rude axe with heaved stroke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fright them from their hallowed haunt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, in close covert by some brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no profaner eye may look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hide me from day's garish eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the bee with honeyed thigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That at her flowery work doth sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the waters murmuring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such concert as they keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let some strange, mysterious dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wave at his wings, in aery stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lively portraiture displayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softly on my eyelids laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as I wake, sweet music breathe<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Above, about, or underneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent by some Spirit to mortals good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the unseen Genius of the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But let my due feet never fail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To walk the studious cloisters pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love the high embowed roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With antic pillars massy-proof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And storied windows richly dight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Casting a dim religious light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There let the pealing organ blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the full-voiced quire below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In service high, and anthems clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As may with sweetness, through mine ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissolve me into ecstasies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And may at last my weary age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find out the peaceful hermitage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hairy gown and mossy cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I may sit, and rightly spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of every star that heaven doth shew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every herb that sips the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till old experience do attain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To something like prophetic strain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +<span class="i1">These pleasures, Melancholy, give,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I with thee will choose to live.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle"><p>52. <i>Lycidas.</i></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><small><i>In this</i> <span class="smcap">Monody</span> <i>the author bewails a learned friend, +unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester, on the Irish Sea, +1637; and by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then +in their height.</i></small></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never-sere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with forced fingers rude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compel me to disturb your season due;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Himself to sing, and build the lofty rime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must not float upon his watery bier<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the meed of some melodious tear.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So may some gentle Muse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lucky words favour my destined urn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as he passes turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Together both, ere the high lawns appeared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the opening eyelids of the Morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We drove a-field, and both together heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft till the star that rose at evening, bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tempered to the oaten flute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +<span class="i0">From the glad sound would not be absent long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And old Damœtas loved to hear our song.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now thou art gone, and never must return!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all their echoes mourn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The willows, and the hazel-copses green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall now no more be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As killing as the canker to the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first the white-thorn blows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds' ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For neither were ye playing on the steep,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay me, I fondly dream!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had ye been there ... for what could that have done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Muse herself for her enchanting son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom universal Nature did lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His gory visage down the stream was sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Alas! what boots it with incessant care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were it not better done, as others use,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—That last infirmity of noble mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scorn delights, and live laborious days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And think to burst out into sudden blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slits the thin-spun life. 'But not the praise,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phœbus replied, and touched my trembling ears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in the glistering foil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set-off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he pronounces lastly on each deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed.'<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That strain I heard was of a higher mood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now my oat proceeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listens to the herald of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That came in Neptune's plea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And questioned every gust of rugged wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blows from off each beaked promontory.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">They knew not of his story;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sage Hippotades their answer brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air was calm, and on the level brine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleek Panopè with all her sisters played.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was that fatal and perfidious bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mantle hairy and his bonnet sedge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Ah! who hath reft,' quoth he, 'my dearest pledge?'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last came, and last did go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pilot of the Galilean lake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two massy keys he bore of metals twain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden opes, the iron shuts amain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of other care they little reckoning make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shove away the worthy bidden guest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, swollen with wind and the rank mist they draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside what the grim wolf with privy paw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daily devours apace, and nothing said.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that two-handed engine at the door<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.'<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Return, Alpheüs, the dread voice is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And call the vales, and bid them hither cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw hither all your quaint-enamelled eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glowing violet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every flower that sad embroidery wears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To strew the laureate herse where Lycid lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For so, to interpose a little ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visitest the bottom of the monstrous world;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleepest by the fable of Bellerus old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the great Vision of the guarded mount<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks towards Namancos and Bayona's hold....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet anon repairs his drooping head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, other groves and other streams along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There entertain him all the saints above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In solemn troops, and sweet societies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sing, and singing in their glory move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy large recompense, and shalt be good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all that wander in that perilous flood.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the still Morn went out with sandals gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He touched the tender stops of various quills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eager thought warbling his Doric lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now was dropped into the western bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">53. <i>On His Blindness.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I consider how my light is spent<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And that one talent, which is death to hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve therewith my Maker, and present<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My true account, lest He, returning, chide;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?'<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That murmur, soon replies: 'God doth not need<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is kingly. Thousands, at his bidding, speed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And post o'er land and ocean, without rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They also serve who only stand and wait.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Keightley's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LADY_NAIRNE" id="LADY_NAIRNE"></a>LADY NAIRNE.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">54. <i>The Land o' the Leal.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm wearin' awa', John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like snaw when it's thaw, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm wearin' awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's nae sorrow there, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's neither cauld nor care, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day's aye fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our bonnie bairn's there, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was baith gude and fair, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! we grudged her sair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy is comin' fast, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joy that's aye to last<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae dear's that joy was bought, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae free the battle fought, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sinfu' man e'er brought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! dry your glist'ning e'e, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul langs to be free, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And angels beckon me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Noo, haud ye leal and true, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your day it's weel near through, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll welcome you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Noo, fare-ye-weel, my ain John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This warld's cares are vain, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll meet, and we'll be fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Henderson's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_POPE" id="ALEXANDER_POPE"></a>ALEXANDER POPE.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">55. <i>Ode on Solitude.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy the man, whose wish and care<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A few paternal acres bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content to breathe his native air,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In his own ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose flocks supply him with attire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose trees in summer yield him shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In winter fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blest, who can unconcern'dly find<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hours, days, and years slide soft away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In health of body, peace of mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Quiet by day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sound sleep by night; study and ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Together mix'd; sweet recreation;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And innocence, which most does please<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With meditation.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thus unlamented let me die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal from the world, and not a stone<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Tell where I lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1735 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SIR_WALTER_RALEIGH" id="SIR_WALTER_RALEIGH"></a>SIR WALTER RALEIGH.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">56. <i>The Night before his Death.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even such is time, that takes on trust<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our youth, our joys, our all we have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pays us but with age and dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who in the dark and silent grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we have wandered all our ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shuts up the story of our days!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from this earth, this grave, this dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lord shall raise me up, I trust!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1829 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SAMUEL_ROGERS" id="SAMUEL_ROGERS"></a>SAMUEL ROGERS.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">57. <i>A Wish.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mine be a cot beside the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A willowy brook, that turns a mill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a fall shall linger near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And share my meal, a welcome guest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Around my ivied porch shall spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In russet-gown and apron blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The village-church, among the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where first our marriage-vows were given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With merry peals shall swell the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And point with taper spire to heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1846 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_SHAKESPEARE" id="WILLIAM_SHAKESPEARE"></a>WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">58. <i>Sonnets.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XVII.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who will believe my verse in time to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I could write the beauty of your eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in fresh numbers number all your graces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The age to come would say 'This poet lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So should my papers, yellowed with their age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stretched metre of an antique song:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But were some child of yours alive that time,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">59. <a name="Shall_I_compare_thee" id="Shall_I_compare_thee"></a><i>Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XVIII.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art more lovely and more temperate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer's lease hath all too short a date:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every fair from fair sometime declines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thy eternal summer shall not fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">60. <a name="When_to_the_sessions" id="When_to_the_sessions"></a><i>When to the sessions</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXX.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When to the sessions of sweet silent thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I summon up remembrance of things past,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I new pay as if not paid before.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All losses are restored and sorrows end.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">61. <a name="Full_many_a_glorious_morning" id="Full_many_a_glorious_morning"></a><i>Full many a glorious morning</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">XXXIII.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full many a glorious morning have I seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissing with golden face the meadows green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Anon permit the basest clouds to ride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ugly rack on his celestial face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the forlorn world his visage hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so my sun one early morn did shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all-triumphant splendour on my brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, out, alack! he was but one hour mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">62. <a name="Like_as_the_waves" id="Like_as_the_waves"></a><i>Like as the waves</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">LX.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So do our minutes hasten to their end;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each changing place with that which goes before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sequent toil all forwards do contend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nativity, once in the main of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">63. <a name="Tired_with_all_these" id="Tired_with_all_these"></a><i>Tired with all these</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">LXVI.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, to behold desert a beggar born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purest faith unhappily forsworn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strength by limping sway disabled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And art made tongue-tied by authority,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And captive good attending captain ill:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">64. <a name="No_longer_mourn" id="No_longer_mourn"></a><i>No longer mourn</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">LXXI.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No longer mourn for me when I am dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give warning to the world that I am fled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, if you read this line, remember not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hand that writ it; for I love you so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thinking on me then should make you woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, if, I say, you look upon this verse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I perhaps compounded am with clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let your love even with my life decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lest the wise world should look into your moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And mock you with me after I am gone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">65. <a name="That_time_of_year" id="That_time_of_year"></a><i>That time of year</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">LXXIII.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That time of year thou mayst in me behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In me thou see'st the twilight of such day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As after sunset fadeth in the west;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which by and by black night doth take away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the death-bed whereon it must expire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To love that well which thou must leave ere long.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">66. <a name="But_be_contented" id="But_be_contented"></a><i>But be contented</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">LXXIV.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But be contented: when that fell arrest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without all bail shall carry me away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life hath in this line some interest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou reviewest this, thou dost review<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very part was consecrate to thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth can have but earth, which is his due;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit is thine, the better part of me:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prey of worms, my body being dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coward conquest of a wretch's knife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too base of thee to be remembered.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The worth of that is that which it contains,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And that is this, and this with thee remains.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">67. <a name="When_in_the_chronicle" id="When_in_the_chronicle"></a><i>When in the chronicle</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">CVI.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When in the chronicle of wasted time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see descriptions of the fairest wights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beauty making beautiful old rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see their antique pen would have express'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even such a beauty as you master now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So all their praises are but prophecies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this our time, all you prefiguring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, for they look'd but with divining eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They had not skill enough your worth to sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For we, which now behold these present days,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">68. <a name="Let_me_not_to_the_marriage" id="Let_me_not_to_the_marriage"></a><i>Let me not to the marriage</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">CXVI.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me not to the marriage of true minds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Admit impediments. Love is not love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which alters when it alteration finds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bends with the remover to remove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That looks on tempests and is never shaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the star to every wandering bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within his bending sickle's compass come;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But bears it out even to the edge of doom.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If this be error and upon me proved,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I never writ, nor no man ever loved.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">69. <a name="Song_from_The_Tempest" id="Song_from_The_Tempest"></a><i>Song from 'The Tempest.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full fathom five thy father lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of his bones are coral made;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Those are pearls that were his eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nothing of him that doth fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But doth suffer a sea-change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into something rich and strange.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ding-dong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! now I hear them,—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ding-dong, bell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">70. <i>Song from '<a name="Measure_for_Measure" id="Measure_for_Measure"></a>Measure for Measure.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take, O, take those lips away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That so sweetly were forsworn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those eyes, the break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lights that do mislead the morn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my kisses bring again, bring again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, seal'd in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">71. <i>Song from '<a name="Much_Ado" id="Much_Ado"></a>Much Ado about Nothing.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Men were deceivers ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One foot in sea and one on shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To one thing constant never:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then sigh not so, but let them go,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And be you blithe and bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Converting all your sounds of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Into Hey nonny, nonny.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of dumps so dull and heavy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fraud of men was ever so,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since summer first was leavy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sigh not so, but let them go,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And be you blithe and bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Converting all your sounds of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Into Hey nonny, nonny.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">72. <i>Song from '<a name="Cymbeline" id="Cymbeline"></a>Cymbeline.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear no more the heat o' the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor the furious winter's rages;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou thy worldly task hast done,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Home art gone and ta'en thy wages:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Golden lads and girls all must,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear no more the frown o' the great;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Care no more to clothe and eat;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To thee the reed is as the oak:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sceptre, learning, physic, must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All follow this and come to dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear no more the lightning-flash,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fear not slander, censure rash;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All lovers young, all lovers must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Consign to thee and come to dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No exorciser harm thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor no witchcraft charm thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ghost unlaid forbear thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing ill come near thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quiet consummation have;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And renowned be thy grave!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Cambridge Shakespeare Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PERCY_BYSSHE_SHELLEY" id="PERCY_BYSSHE_SHELLEY"></a>PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">73. <i>Song from 'Prometheus Unbound.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On a poet's lips I slept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming like a love-adept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the sound his breathing kept;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But feeds on the aërial kisses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will watch from dawn to gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lake-reflected sun illume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor heed nor see, what things they be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from these create he can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms more real than living man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nurslings of immortality!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of these awakened me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I sped to succour thee.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">74. <i>Ode to the West Wind.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O, thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each like a corpse within its grave, until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With living hues and odours plain and hill:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wild Spirit, which art moving every where;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Destroyer and preserver; hear, O, hear!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the blue surface of thine airy surge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the bright hair uplifted from the head<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of some fierce Mænad, even from the dim verge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the horizon to the zenith's height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of the dying year, to which this closing night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vaulted with all thy congregated might<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: O, hear!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beside a pumice isle in Baiæ's bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw in sleep old palaces and towers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quivering within the wave's intenser day,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All overgrown with azure moss and flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whose path the Atlantic's level powers<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sapless foliage of the ocean, know<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tremble and despoil themselves: O, hear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The impulse of thy strength, only less free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than thou, O, uncontroulable! If even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I were as in my boyhood, and could be<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What if my leaves are falling like its own!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tumult of thy mighty harmonies<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drive my dead thoughts over the universe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, by the incantation of this verse,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be through my lips to unawakened earth<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The trumpet of a prophecy! O, wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">75. <i><a name="The_Cloud" id="The_Cloud"></a>The Cloud.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the seas and the streams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bear light shade for the leaves when laid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In their noon-day dreams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my wings are shaken the dews that waken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweet buds every one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As she dances about the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wield the flail of the lashing hail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And whiten the green plains under,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then again I dissolve it in rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And laugh as I pass in thunder.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sift the snow on the mountains below,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And their great pines groan aghast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the night 'tis my pillow white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While I sleep in the arms of the blast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lightning my pilot sits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It struggles and howls at fits;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This pilot is guiding me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lured by the love of the genii that move<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the depths of the purple sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over the lakes and the plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Spirit he loves remains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilst he is dissolving in rains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his burning plumes outspread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the morning star shines dead,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As on the jag of a mountain crag,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which an earthquake rocks and swings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An eagle alit one moment may sit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the light of its golden wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its ardours of rest and of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the crimson pall of eve may fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the depth of heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As still as a brooding dove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That orbèd maiden with white fire laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom mortals call the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the midnight breezes strewn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which only the angels hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stars peep behind her and peer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a swarm of golden bees,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are each paved with the moon and these.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the moon's with a girdle of pearl;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over a torrent sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountains its columns be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The triumphal arch through which I march<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With hurricane, fire, and snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the powers of the air are chained to my chair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the million-coloured bow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the moist earth was laughing below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am the daughter of earth and water,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the nursling of the sky;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I change, but I cannot die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For after the rain when with never a stain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pavilion of heaven is bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Build up the blue dome of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And out of the caverns of rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I arise and unbuild it again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">76.<a name="To_a_Skylark" id="To_a_Skylark"></a> <i>To a Skylark.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Hail to thee, blithe spirit!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bird thou never wert,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That from heaven, or near it,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Pourest thy full heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Higher still and higher<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From the earth thou springest<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Like a cloud of fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The blue deep thou wingest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">In the golden lightning<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of the sunken sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er which clouds are brightning,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou dost float and run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The pale purple even<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Melts around thy flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a star of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the broad day-light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Keen as are the arrows<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of that silver sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose intense lamp narrows<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the white dawn clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">All the earth and air<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With thy voice is loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As, when night is bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From one lonely cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">What thou art we know not;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What is most like thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From rainbow clouds there flow not<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Drops so bright to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Like a poet hidden<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the light of thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Singing hymns unbidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Till the world is wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Like a high-born maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In a palace tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Soothing her love-laden<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Soul in secret hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Like a glow-worm golden<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In a dell of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Scattering unbeholden<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Its aërial hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Like a rose embowered<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In its own green leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By warm winds deflowered,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Till the scent it gives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-wingèd thieves:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Sound of vernal showers<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the twinkling grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rain-awakened flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">All that ever was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Teach us, sprite or bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What sweet thoughts are thine:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +<span class="i4">I have never heard<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Praise of love or wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Chorus Hymenæal,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Or triumphal chaunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Matched with thine would be all<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But an empty vaunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">What objects are the fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of thy happy strain?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What fields, or waves, or mountains?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What shapes of sky or plain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">With thy clear keen joyance<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Languor cannot be:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shadow of annoyance<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Never came near thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Waking or asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou of death must deem<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Things more true and deep<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Than we mortals dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">We look before and after,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And pine for what is not:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Our sincerest laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With some pain is fraught;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Yet if we could scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hate, and pride, and fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If we were things born<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Not to shed a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Better than all measures<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of delightful sound,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Better than all treasures<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That in books are found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Teach me half the gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That thy brain must know,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Such harmonious madness<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From my lips would flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world should listen then, as I am listening now.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">77. <a name="Chorus_from_Hellas" id="Chorus_from_Hellas"></a><i>Chorus from 'Hellas.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world's great age begins anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The golden years return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth doth like a snake renew<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her winter weeds outworn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A brighter Hellas rears its mountains<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From waves serener far;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A new Peneus rolls his fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against the morning-star.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A loftier Argo cleaves the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fraught with a later prize;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another Orpheus sings again,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And loves, and weeps, and dies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A new Ulysses leaves once more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calypso for his native shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, write no more the tale of Troy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If earth Death's scroll must be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor mix with Laian rage the joy<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which dawns upon the free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although a subtler Sphinx renew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Riddles of death Thebes never knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another Athens shall arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And to remoter time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The splendour of its prime;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And leave, if nought so bright may live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All earth can take or Heaven can give.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saturn and Love their long repose<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall burst, more bright and good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all who fell, than One who rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than many unsubdued:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But votive tears and symbol flowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O cease! must hate and death return?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Cease! must men kill and die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of bitter prophecy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world is weary of the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O might it die or rest at last!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">78. <a name="Stanzas" id="Stanzas"></a><i>Stanzas. Written in Dejection, near Naples.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The sun is warm, the sky is clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The waves are dancing fast and bright,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Blue isles and snowy mountains wear<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The purple noon's transparent might,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The breath of the moist earth is light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around its unexpanded buds;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Like many a voice of one delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The winds, the birds, the ocean floods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I see the Deep's untrampled floor<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With green and purple seaweeds strown;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see the waves upon the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I sit upon the sands alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lightning of the noon-tide ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Is flashing round me, and a tone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arises from its measured motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Alas! I have nor hope nor health,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nor peace within nor calm around,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Nor that content surpassing wealth<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The sage in meditation found,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And walked with inward glory crowned—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Others I see whom these surround—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiling they live and call life pleasure;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Yet now despair itself is mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Even as the winds and waters are;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I could lie down like a tired child,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And weep away the life of care<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Which I have borne and yet must bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till death like sleep might steal on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And I might feel in the warm air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Some might lament that I were cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As I, when this sweet day is gone,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Insults with this untimely moan;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">They might lament—for I am one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom men love not,—and yet regret,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Unlike this day, which, when the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall in its stainless glory set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">79. <i>The <a name="Indian" id="Indian"></a>Indian Serenade.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I arise from dreams of thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the first sweet sleep of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the winds are breathing low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stars are shining bright:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I arise from dreams of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a spirit in my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath led me—who knows how?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy chamber window, Sweet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wandering airs they faint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the dark, the silent stream—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the Champak's odours fail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sweet thoughts in a dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nightingale's complaint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It dies upon her heart;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I must on thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! belovèd as thou art!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O lift me from the grass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I die! I faint! I fail!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let thy love in kisses rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my lips and eyelids pale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cheek is cold and white, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart beats loud and fast;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! press it to thine own again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where it will break at last.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">80. <a name="To" id="To"></a><i>To ——.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou needest not fear mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit is too deeply laden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ever to burthen thine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou needest not fear mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Innocent is the heart's devotion<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With which I worship thine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">81. <a name="To_Night" id="To_Night"></a><i>To Night.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Swiftly walk over the western wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Spirit of Night!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the misty eastern cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all the long and lone daylight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which make thee terrible and dear,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Swift be thy flight!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Star-inwrought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kiss her until she be wearied out,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touching all with thine opiate wand—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come, long sought!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I arose and saw the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I sigh'd for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When light rode high, and the dew was gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the weary Day turned to his rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lingering like an unloved guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I sighed for thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy brother Death came, and cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wouldst thou me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmured like a noon-tide bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I nestle near thy side?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wouldst thou me?—And I replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No, not thee!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death will come when thou art dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Soon, too soon—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep will come when thou art fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of neither would I ask the boon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask of thee, belovèd Night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift be thine approaching flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come soon, soon!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Buxton Forman's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JAMES_SHIRLEY" id="JAMES_SHIRLEY"></a>JAMES SHIRLEY.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">82. <i>Song from 'Ajax and Ulysses.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glories of our blood and state<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are shadows, not substantial things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no armour against fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Death lays his icy hand on kings:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sceptre and crown<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Must tumble down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the dust be equal made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the poor crooked scythe and spade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some men with swords may reap the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And plant fresh laurels where they kill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But their strong nerves at last must yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They tame but one another still:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Early or late,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They stoop to fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And must give up their murmuring breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they, pale captives, creep to death.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The garlands wither on your brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then boast no more your mighty deeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon Death's purple altar now,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">See, where the victor-victim bleeds:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Your heads must come<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the cold tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the actions of the just<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>Dyce's Text.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_SOUTHEY" id="ROBERT_SOUTHEY"></a>ROBERT SOUTHEY.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">83. <i>Stanzas.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">1.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My days among the Dead are past;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Around me I behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er these casual eyes are cast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The mighty minds of old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My never failing friends are they,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With whom I converse day by day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">2.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With them I take delight in weal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And seek relief in woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while I understand and feel<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How much to them I owe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cheeks have often been bedew'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tears of thoughtful gratitude.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">3.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My thoughts are with the Dead, with them<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I live in long-past years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their virtues love, their faults condemn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Partake their hopes and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from their lessons seek and find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instruction with an humble mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">4.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My hopes are with the Dead, anon<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My place with them will be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I with them shall travel on<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through all Futurity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet leaving here a name, I trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That will not perish in the dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1837 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_LOUIS_STEVENSON" id="ROBERT_LOUIS_STEVENSON"></a>ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">84. <i>Requiem.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Under the wide and starry sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dig the grave and let me lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad did I live and gladly die,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I laid me down with a will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This be the verse you grave for me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Here he lies where he longed to be;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Home is the sailor, home from sea,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>And the hunter home from the hill.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1887 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LORD_TENNYSON" id="LORD_TENNYSON"></a>LORD TENNYSON.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">85. <i>Song from 'The Miller's Daughter.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is the miller's daughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And she is grown so dear, so dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I would be the jewel<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That trembles in her ear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hid in ringlets day and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd touch her neck so warm and white.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I would be the girdle<br /></span> +<span class="i1">About her dainty dainty waist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her heart would beat against me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In sorrow and in rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I should know if it beat right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd clasp it round so close and tight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I would be the necklace,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all day long to fall and rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon her balmy bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With her laughter or her sighs,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And I would lie so light, so light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">86. <a name="St_Agnes_Eve" id="St_Agnes_Eve"></a><i>St. Agnes' Eve.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deep on the convent-roof the snows<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are sparkling to the moon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My breath to heaven like vapour goes:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May my soul follow soon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadows of the convent-towers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Slant down the snowy sward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still creeping with the creeping hours<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That lead me to my Lord:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make Thou my spirit pure and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As are the frosty skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or this first snowdrop of the year<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That in my bosom lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As these white robes are soil'd and dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To yonder shining ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this pale taper's earthly spark,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To yonder argent round;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shows my soul before the Lamb,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My spirit before Thee;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So in mine earthly house I am,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To that I hope to be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thro' all yon starlight keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In raiment white and clean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He lifts me to the golden doors;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The flashes come and go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All heaven bursts her starry floors,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And strows her lights below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deepens on and up! the gates<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Roll back, and far within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To make me pure of sin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sabbaths of Eternity,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One sabbath deep and wide—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light upon the shining sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Bridegroom with his bride!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">87. <a name="Break" id="Break"></a><i>Break, break, break.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Break, break, break,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And I would that my tongue could utter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The thoughts that arise in me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O well for the fisherman's boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That he shouts with his sister at play!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O well for the sailor lad.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That he sings in his boat on the bay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the stately ships go on<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To their haven under the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the sound of a voice that is still!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Break, break, break,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the tender grace of a day that is dead<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will never come back to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">88. <i>Song from 'The <a name="Princess" id="Princess"></a>Princess.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears from the depth of some divine despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thinking of the days that are no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brings our friends up from the underworld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad as the last which reddens over one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sinks with all we love below the verge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dying ears, when unto dying eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Dear as remember'd kisses after death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On lips that are for others; deep as love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Death in Life, the days that are no more.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">89. <i>Song from 'The Princess.'</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Ask me no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ask me no more: what answer should I give?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I love not hollow cheek or faded eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live;<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Ask me no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I strove against the stream and all in vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Let the great river take me to the main:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Ask me no more.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">90. <i>Crossing the Bar.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sunset and evening star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And one clear call for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may there be no moaning of the bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When I put out to sea,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But such a tide as moving seems asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Too full for sound and foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When that which drew from out the boundless deep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Turns again home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Twilight and evening bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And after that the dark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may there be no sadness of farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When I embark;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The flood may bear me far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope to see my Pilot face to face<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When I have crost the bar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1902 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EDMUND_WALLER" id="EDMUND_WALLER"></a>EDMUND WALLER.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">91. <i>On a Girdle.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That which her slender waist confined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall now my joyful temples bind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No monarch but would give his crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His arms might do what this has done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was my heaven's extremest sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pale which held that lovely deer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did all within this circle move!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A narrow compass! and yet there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me but what this ribbon bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take all the rest the sun goes round.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">92. <i>Song.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Go, lovely Rose!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell her that wastes her time and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That now she knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I resemble her to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet and fair she seems to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Tell her that's young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shuns to have her graces spied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That hadst thou sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In deserts, where no men abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou must have uncommended died.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Small is the worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of beauty from the light retired:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bid her come forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffer herself to be desired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not blush so to be admired.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then die! that she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The common fate of all things rare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May read in thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How small a part of time they share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That are so wondrous sweet and fair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1822 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_WORDSWORTH" id="WILLIAM_WORDSWORTH"></a>WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">93. <i>She dwelt among the untrodden ways</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She dwelt among the untrodden ways<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beside the springs of Dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Maid whom there were none to praise<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And very few to love:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A violet by a mossy stone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Half hidden from the eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Fair as a star, when only one<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is shining in the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She lived unknown, and few could know<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When Lucy ceased to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she is in her grave, and, oh,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The difference to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">94. <i>She was a <a name="Phantom" id="Phantom"></a>Phantom of delight</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was a Phantom of delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first she gleamed upon my sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lovely Apparition, sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be a moment's ornament;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all things else about her drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dancing Shape, an Image gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw her upon nearer view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Spirit, yet a Woman too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her household motions light and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And steps of virgin-liberty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A countenance in which did meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet records, promises as sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Creature not too bright or good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For human nature's daily food;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For transient sorrows, simple wiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now I see with eye serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very pulse of the machine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Being breathing thoughtful breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Traveller between life and death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The reason firm, the temperate will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A perfect Woman, nobly planned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warn, to comfort, and command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet a Spirit still, and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With something of angelic light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">95.<a name="Sonnets" id="Sonnets"></a> <i>Sonnets.</i><br /><br /> +<span class="secline"><b>PART I.—XXXIII.</b></span><br /></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world is too much with us; late and soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little we see in Nature that is ours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds that will be howling at all hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, for everything, we are out of tune;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It moves us not.—Great God! I'd rather be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle"><p>96. PART II.—XXXVI.</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><small><i>Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802.</i></small></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth has not anything to show more fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dull would be he of soul who could pass by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sight so touching in its majesty:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This City now doth, like a garment, wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open unto the fields, and to the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never did sun more beautifully steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The river glideth at his own sweet will:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that mighty heart is lying still!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">97. <i>To a <a name="Highland_Girl" id="Highland_Girl"></a>Highland Girl, at Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of beauty is thy earthly dower!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Twice seven consenting years have shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their utmost bounty on thy head:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these gray rocks; that household lawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This fall of water that doth make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A murmur near the silent lake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This little bay; a quiet road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That holds in shelter thy Abode—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In truth together do ye seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like something fashioned in a dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such Forms as from their covert peep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When earthly cares are laid asleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, O fair Creature! in the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of common day, so heavenly bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bless thee with a human heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God shield thee to thy latest years!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee, neither know I, nor thy peers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet my eyes are filled with tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">With earnest feeling I shall pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee when I am far away:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For never saw I mien, or face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which more plainly I could trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benignity and home-bred sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ripening in perfect innocence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here scattered, like a random seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remote from men, Thou dost not need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The embarrassed look of shy distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And maidenly shamefacedness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The freedom of a Mountaineer:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A face with gladness overspread!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seemliness complete, that sways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy courtesies, about thee plays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With no restraint, but such as springs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From quick and eager visitings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy few words of English speech:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gives thy gestures grace and life!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So have I, not unmoved in mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen birds of tempest-loving kind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus beating up against the wind.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">What hand but would a garland cull<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee who art so beautiful.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O happy pleasure! here to dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside thee in some heathy dell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adopt your homely ways, and dress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I could frame a wish for thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More like a grave reality:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art to me but as a wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the wild sea; and I would have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some claim upon thee, if I could,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though but of common neighbourhood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What joy to hear thee, and to see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy elder Brother I would be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy Father—anything to thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath led me to this lonely place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy have I had; and going hence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bear away my recompense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spots like these it is we prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, why should I be loth to stir?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I feel this place was made for her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give new pleasure like the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Continued long as life shall last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Highland Girl! from thee to part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I, methinks, till I grow old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fair before me shall behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I do now, the cabin small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lake, the bay, the waterfall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Thee, the Spirit of them all!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">98. <i>The <a name="Solitary_Reaper" id="Solitary_Reaper"></a>Solitary Reaper.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behold her, single in the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon solitary Highland Lass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reaping and singing by herself;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stop here, or gently pass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone she cuts and binds the grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sings a melancholy strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O listen! for the Vale profound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is overflowing with the sound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No Nightingale did ever chaunt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More welcome notes to weary bands<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of travellers in some shady haunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among Arabian sands:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breaking the silence of the seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the farthest Hebrides.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will no one tell me what she sings?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For old, unhappy, far-off things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And battles long ago:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is it some more humble lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Familiar matter of to-day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That has been, and may be again?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if her song could have no ending;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw her singing at her work,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the sickle bending;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I listened, motionless and still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as I mounted up the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music in my heart I bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long after it was heard no more.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></div></div> + + +<div class="poemtitle">99. <i>Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><small>The Child is father of the Man;</small><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><small>And I could wish my days to be</small><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><small>Bound each to each by natural piety.</small><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The earth, and every common sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To me did seem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Apparelled in celestial light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory and the freshness of a dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not now as it hath been of yore;—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Turn wheresoe'er I may,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">By night or day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The things which I have seen I now can see no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">II.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The Rainbow comes and goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And lovely is the Rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The Moon doth with delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look round her when the heavens are bare,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Waters on a starry night<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Are beautiful and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunshine is a glorious birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But yet I know, where'er I go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That there hath past away a glory from the earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">III.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And while the young lambs bound<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As to the tabor's sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me alone there came a thought of grief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A timely utterance gave that thought relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I again am strong:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And all the earth is gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Land and sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give themselves up to jollity,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And with the heart of May<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth every Beast keep holiday;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +<span class="i6">Thou Child of Joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">IV.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye blessèd Creatures, I have heard the call<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye to each other make; I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart is at your festival,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">My head hath its coronal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O evil day! if I were sullen<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While Earth herself is adorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This sweet May-morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the Children are culling<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On every side,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a thousand valleys far and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">—But there's a Tree, of many, one,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A single Field which I have looked upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both of them speak of something that is gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The Pansy at my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Doth the same tale repeat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whither is fled the visionary gleam?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is it now, the glory and the dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">V.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Hath had elsewhere its setting,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And cometh from afar:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Not in entire forgetfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And not in utter nakedness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But trailing clouds of glory do we come<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From God, who is our home:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven lies about us in our infancy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shades of the prison-house begin to close<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Upon the growing Boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He sees it in his joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Youth, who daily farther from the east<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +<span class="i4">And by the vision splendid<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is on his way attended;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length the Man perceives it die away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fade into the light of common day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">VI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, even with something of a Mother's mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And no unworthy aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The homely Nurse doth all she can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forget the glories he hath known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that imperial palace whence he came.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">VII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With light upon him from his father's eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Some fragment from his dream of human life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wedding or a festival,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A mourning or a funeral;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And this hath now his heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And unto this he frames his song:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then will he fit his tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dialogues of business, love, or strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But it will not be long<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere this be thrown aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And with new joy and pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little Actor cons another part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Life brings with her in her equipage;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As if his whole vocation<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Were endless imitation.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">VIII.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy Soul's immensity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On whom those truths do rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which we are toiling all our lives to find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, over whom thy Immortality<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Presence which is not to be put by;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To whom the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is but a lonely bed without the sense or sight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of day or the warm light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A place of thought where we in waiting lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The years to bring the inevitable yoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And custom lie upon thee with a weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">IX.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O joy! that in our embers<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is something that doth live,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That nature yet remembers<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What was so fugitive!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought of our past years in me doth breed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perpetual benediction: not indeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that which is most worthy to be blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delight and liberty, the simple creed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Not for these I raise<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The song of thanks and praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But for those obstinate questionings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sense and outward things,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fallings from us, vanishings;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blank misgivings of a Creature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moving about in worlds not realised,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High instincts before which our mortal Nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +<span class="i4">But for those first affections,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Those shadowy recollections,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, be they what they may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our noisy years seem moments in the being<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To perish never:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Nor Man nor Boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor all that is at enmity with joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can utterly abolish or destroy!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hence in a season of calm weather<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though inland far we be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which brought us hither,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can in a moment travel thither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the Children sport upon the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">X.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And let the young Lambs bound<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As to the tabor's sound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We in thought will join your throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye that pipe and ye that play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye that through your hearts to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Feel the gladness of the May!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What though the radiance which was once so bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be now for ever taken from my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though nothing can bring back the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We will grieve not, rather find<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Strength in what remains behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the primal sympathy<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which having been must ever be;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the soothing thoughts that spring<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Out of human suffering;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the faith that looks through death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In years that bring the philosophic mind.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">XI.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forebode not any severing of our loves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only have relinquished one delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live beneath your more habitual sway.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The innocent brightness of a new-born Day<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Is lovely yet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Clouds that gather round the setting sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do take a sober colouring from an eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another race hath been, and other palms are won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thanks to the human heart by which we live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me the meanest flower that blows can give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="i12"><small><i>Hutchinson's Text.</i></small><br /></span></p> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SIR_HENRY_WOTTON" id="SIR_HENRY_WOTTON"></a>SIR HENRY WOTTON.</h2> + + +<div class="poemtitle">100. <i>On his Mistress, the Queen of Bohemia.</i></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You meaner beauties of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That poorly satisfy our eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More by your number, than your light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You common people of the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What are you when the moon shall rise?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You curious chanters of the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That warble forth Dame Nature's lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking your passions understood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By your weak accents; what's your praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When Philomel her voice shall raise?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You violets that first appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By your pure purple mantles known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the proud virgins of the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the spring were all your own;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What are you when the rose is blown?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, when my mistress shall be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In form and beauty of her mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By virtue first, then choice, a Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me if she were not design'd<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Th' eclipse and glory of her kind?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12"><small><i>1845 Edition.</i></small><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 95%;" /> +<p class= "center"><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p> + +<p>Poem titles found in the original Table of Contents have been added to the blank poem numbers within the text, +and sonnet numbers found in the original text have been added in the Table of Contents, for consistency. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNDRED BEST ENGLISH POEMS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 17768-h.txt or 17768-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/7/6/17768">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/7/6/17768</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and 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