diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:57:30 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:57:30 -0700 |
| commit | 9d57c6e5c6ac3768cbd8055986e92bbe9d178475 (patch) | |
| tree | 1ec1a9d80003c5a2cc57eb9330f0d853a2267540 /32373-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '32373-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 32373-h/32373-h.htm | 19369 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 32373-h/images/seal.jpg | bin | 0 -> 23902 bytes |
2 files changed, 19369 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/32373-h/32373-h.htm b/32373-h/32373-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..959abda --- /dev/null +++ b/32373-h/32373-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,19369 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Golden Treasury, by Francis T. Palgrave + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { padding: 1em; text-align: left; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +table.tab1 { width:60%; padding: 1em; text-align: left; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +table.tab2 { width:80%; padding: 1em; text-align: left; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + +.p1 {margin-left:45%; } +.p2 {margin-left:80%; } +.p3 {margin-left:5%; } +.p4 {margin-left:60%; } + +.f1 { font-size:smaller; } + +a[name] { position: static; } +a:link {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:underline; } +a:visited {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none; } +a:hover { color:#ff0000; } + + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style:normal; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem .stanza1 { font-size: x-large; 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.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} +.poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; 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;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Treasury, by Various + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Golden Treasury + Selected from the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the + English Language and arranged with Notes + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis T. Palgrave + +Release Date: May 14, 2010 [EBook #32373] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN TREASURY *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Juliet Sutherland, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">The source of the Greek quote and its meaning are from the 1914 edition. +</p></div> +<p> </p> + + + + + +<h1>THE<br /> + +GOLDEN TREASURY</h1> + +<h3><span class="smcap">SELECTED FROM THE BEST SONGS AND LYRICAL</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">POEMS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">AND ARRANGED WITH NOTES</span></h3> +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smcap">BY</span></h3> + +<h2>FRANCIS T. PALGRAVE</h2> + +<h5><span class="smcap">LATE PROFESSOR OF POETRY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD</span></h5> +<p> </p> +<h3><i>REVISED AND ENLARGED</i></h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/seal.jpg" width="200" height="283" alt="Seal" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>London</h3> + +<h2>MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span></h3> +<h3>1902 +</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Dedication" id="Dedication"></a>TO</h3> + +<h2>ALFRED TENNYSON</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">POET LAUREATE</span></h3> + + +<p>This book in its progress has recalled often to my memory a man with +whose friendship we were once honoured, to whom no region of English +Literature was unfamiliar, and who, whilst rich in all the noble gifts +of Nature, was most eminently distinguished by the noblest and the +rarest,—just judgment and high-hearted patriotism. It would have been +hence a peculiar pleasure and pride to dedicate what I have +endeavoured to make a true national Anthology of three centuries to +Henry Hallam. But he is beyond the reach of any human tokens of love +and reverence; and I desire therefore to place before it a name united +with his by associations which, while Poetry retains her hold on the +minds of Englishmen, are not likely to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>Your encouragement, given while traversing the wild scenery of Treryn +Dinas, led me to begin the work; and it has been completed under your +advice and assistance. For the favour now asked I have thus a second +reason: and to this I may add, the homage which is your right as Poet, +and the gratitude due to a Friend, whose regard I rate at no common +value.</p> + +<p>Permit me then to inscribe to yourself a book which, I hope, may be +found by many a lifelong fountain of innocent and exalted pleasure; a +source of animation to friends when they meet; and able to sweeten +solitude itself with best society,—with the companionship of the wise +and the good, with the beauty which the eye cannot see, and the music +only heard in silence. If this Collection proves a store-house of +delight to Labour and to Poverty,—if it teaches those indifferent to +the Poets to love them, and those who love them to love them more, the +aim and the desire entertained in framing it will be fully +accomplished.</p> + +<p class="p2">F.T.P.</p> + +<p class="p3"><span class="smcap">May: 1861</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>This little Collection differs, it is believed, from others in the +attempt made to include in it all the best original Lyrical pieces and +Songs in our language (save a very few regretfully omitted on account +of length), by writers not living,—and none beside the best. Many +familiar verses will hence be met with; many also which should be +familiar:—the Editor will regard as his fittest readers those who +love Poetry so well, that he can offer them nothing not already known +and valued.</p> + +<p>The Editor is acquainted with no strict and exhaustive definition of +Lyrical Poetry; but he has found the task of practical decision +increase in clearness and in facility as he advanced with the work, +whilst keeping in view a few simple principles. Lyrical has been here +held essentially to imply that each Poem shall turn on some single +thought, feeling, or situation. In accordance with this, narrative, +descriptive, and didactic poems,—unless accompanied by rapidity of +movement, brevity, and the colouring of human passion,—have been +excluded. Humourous poetry, except in the very unfrequent instances +where a truly poetical tone pervades the whole, with what is strictly +personal, occasional, and religious, has been considered foreign to +the idea of the book. Blank verse and the ten-syllable couplet, with +all pieces markedly dramatic, have been rejected as alien from what is +commonly understood by Song, and rarely conforming to Lyrical +conditions in treatment. But it is not anticipated, nor is it +possible, that all readers shall think the line accurately drawn. Some +poems, as Gray's Elegy, the Allegro and Penseroso, Wordsworth's Ruth +or Campbell's Lord Ullin, might be claimed with perhaps equal justice +for a narrative or descriptive selection: whilst with reference +especially to Ballads and Sonnets, the Editor can only state that he +has taken his utmost pains to decide without caprice or partiality.</p> + +<p>This also is all he can plead in regard to a point even more liable to +question;—what degree of merit should give rank among the Best. That +a poem shall be worthy of the writer's genius,—that it shall reach a +perfection commensurate with its aim,—that we should require finish +in proportion to brevity,—that passion, colour, and originality +cannot atone for serious imperfections in clearness, unity or +truth,—that a few good lines do not make a good poem, that popular +estimate is serviceable as a guidepost more than as a compass,—above +all, that excellence should be looked for rather in the whole than in +the parts,—such and other such canons have been always steadily +regarded. He may however add that the pieces chosen, and a far larger +number rejected, have been carefully and repeatedly considered; and +that he has been aided throughout by two friends of independent and +exercised judgment, besides the distinguished person addressed in the +Dedication. It is hoped that by this procedure the volume has been +freed from that one-sidedness which must beset individual +decisions:—but for the final choice the Editor is alone responsible.</p> + +<p>Chalmers' vast collection, with the whole works of all accessible +poets not contained in it, and the best Anthologies of different +periods, have been twice systematically read through: and it is hence +improbable that any omissions which may be regretted are due to +oversight. The poems are printed entire, except in a very few +instances where a stanza or passage has been omitted. These omissions +have been risked only when the piece could be thus brought to a closer +lyrical unity: and, as essentially opposed to this unity, extracts, +obviously such, are excluded. In regard to the text, the purpose of +the book has appeared to justify the choice of the most poetical +version, wherever more than one exists; and much labour has been given +to present each poem, in disposition, spelling, and punctuation, to +the greatest advantage.</p> + +<p>In the arrangement, the most poetically-effective order has been +attempted. The English mind has passed through phases of thought and +cultivation so various and so opposed during these three centuries of +Poetry, that a rapid passage between old and new, like rapid +alteration of the eye's focus in looking at the landscape, will always +be wearisome and hurtful to the sense of Beauty. The poems have been +therefore distributed into Books corresponding, I to the ninety years +closing about 1616, II thence to 1700, III to 1800, IV to the half +century just ended. Or, looking at the Poets who more or less give +each portion its distinctive character, they might be called the Books +of Shakespeare, Milton, Gray, and Wordsworth. The volume, in this +respect, so far as the limitations of its range allow, accurately +reflects the natural growth and evolution of our Poetry. A rigidly +chronological sequence, however, rather fits a collection aiming at +instruction than at pleasure, and the wisdom which comes through +pleasure:—within each book the pieces have therefore been arranged in +gradations of feeling or subject. And it is hoped that the contents of +this Anthology will thus be found to present a certain unity, 'as +episodes,' in the noble language of Shelley, 'to that great Poem which +all poets, like the co-operating thoughts of one great mind, have +built up since the beginning of the world.'</p> + +<p>As he closes his long survey, the Editor trusts he may add without +egotism, that he has found the vague general verdict of popular Fame +more just than those have thought, who, with too severe a criticism, +would confine judgments on Poetry to 'the selected few of many +generations.' Not many appear to have gained reputation without some +gift or performance that, in due degree, deserved it: and if no verses +by certain writers who show less strength than sweetness, or more +thought than mastery of expression, are printed in this volume, it +should not be imagined that they have been excluded without much +hesitation and regret,—far less that they have been slighted. +Throughout this vast and pathetic array of Singers now silent, few +have been honoured with the name Poet, and have not possessed a skill +in words, a sympathy with beauty, a tenderness of feeling, or +seriousness in reflection, which render their works, although never +perhaps attaining that loftier and finer excellence here +required,—better worth reading than much of what fills the scanty +hours that most men spare for self-improvement, or for pleasure in any +of its more elevated and permanent forms.—And if this be true of even +mediocre poetry, for how much more are we indebted to the best! Like +the fabled fountain of the Azores, but with a more various power, the +magic of this Art can confer on each period of life its appropriate +blessing: on early years Experience, on maturity Calm, on age, +Youthfulness. Poetry gives treasures 'more golden than gold,' leading +us in higher and healthier ways than those of the world, and +interpreting to us the lessons of Nature. But she speaks best for +herself. Her true accents, if the plan has been executed with success, +may be heard throughout the following pages:—wherever the Poets of +England are honoured, wherever the dominant language of the world is +spoken, it is hoped that they will find fit audience.</p> + +<p class="p2">1861</p> + +<p>Some poems, especially in Book I, have been added:—either on better +acquaintance;—in deference to critical suggestions;—or unknown to +the Editor when first gathering his harvest. For aid in these +after-gleanings he is specially indebted to the excellent reprints of +rare early verse given us by Dr. Hannah, Dr. Grosart, Mr. Arber, Mr. +Bullen, and others,—and (in regard to the additions of 1883) to the +advice of that distinguished Friend, by whom the final choice has been +so largely guided. The text has also been carefully revised from +authoritative sources. It has still seemed best, for many reasons, to +retain the original limit by which the selection was confined to those +then no longer living. But the editor hopes that, so far as in him +lies, a complete and definitive collection of our best Lyrics, to the +central year of this fast-closing century, is now offered.</p> + +<p class="p2">1883-1890-1891</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> + +<table class="tab1" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#Dedication">Dedication</a></span></td> +<td></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#PREFACE">Preface</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg f1">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#BOOK_I">Book I.</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#BOOK_II">Book II.</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#BOOK_III">Book III.</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#BOOK_IV">Book IV.</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#NOTES">Notes</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#INDEX_OF_WRITERS">Index of Writers</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_371">371</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES">Index of First Lines</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza1"> +<span class="i0">Εἰς τὸν λειμῶνα καθίσας,</span> <span class="i0">ἔδρεπεν ἕτερον ἐφ' ἑτέρῳ</span> <span class="i0">αἰρόμενος ἄγρευμ' ἀνθέων</span> <span class="i0">ἁδομένᾳ ψυχᾷ— —</span> </div> +</div> +<p class="p4">[Eurip. frag. 754.]</p> +<p class="center">[‘He sat in the meadow and plucked<br /> +with glad heart the spoil of the<br /> +flowers,gathering them one by one.’]</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>The Golden Treasury</h2> + +<h2><a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I"></a>Book First</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<h2><i>SPRING</i></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The palm and may make country houses gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every street these tunes our ears do greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Spring! the sweet Spring!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Nash.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + +<h2><i>THE FAIRY LIFE</i></h2> + +<h3>1</h3> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the bee sucks, there suck I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a cowslip's bell I lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I couch, when owls do cry:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the bat's back I do fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After summer merrily.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under the blossom that hangs on the bough!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + +<h3>2</h3> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come unto these yellow sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then take hands:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wild waves whist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foot it featly here and there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, sweet Sprites, the burthen bear.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hark, hark!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bow-bow.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The watch-dogs bark:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bow-wow.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hark, hark! I hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strain of strutting chanticleer<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + +<h2><i>SUMMONS TO LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Phoebus, arise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And paint the sable skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With azure, white, and red:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span><span class="i0">That she may thy career with roses spread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nightingales thy coming each-where sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make an eternal Spring!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give life to this dark world which lieth dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread forth thy golden hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In larger locks than thou wast wont before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And emperor-like decore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With diadem of pearl thy temples fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chase hence the ugly night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—This is that happy morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That day, long-wishéd day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all my life so dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fates my hopes betray),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, purely white, deserves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An everlasting diamond should it mark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the morn should bring unto this grove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Love, to hear and recompense my love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair King, who all preserves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But show thy blushing beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou two sweeter eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shalt see than those which by Penéus' streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did once thy heart surprize.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If that ye winds would hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your furious chiding stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Zephyr only breathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with her tresses play.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The winds all silent are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Phoebus in his chair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ensaffroning sea and air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes vanish every star:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night like a drunkard reels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fields with flowers are deck'd in every hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is the pleasant place—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nothing wanting is, save She, alas!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Drummond of Hawthornden</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + +<h2><i>TIME AND LOVE</i></h2> + +<h3>1</h3> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rich proud cost of out-worn buried age;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I have seen the hungry ocean gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the firm soil win of the watery main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I have seen such interchange of state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or state itself confounded to decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Time will come and take my Love away:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—This thought is as a death, which cannot choose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But weep to have that which it fears to lose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + +<h3>2</h3> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sad mortality o'ersways their power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose action is no stronger than a flower?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O how shall summer's honey breath hold out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the wreckful siege of battering days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When rocks impregnable are not so stout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O fearful meditation! where, alack!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! none, unless this miracle have might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in black ink my love may still shine bright.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come live with me and be my Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we will all the pleasures prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hills and valleys, dale and field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the craggy mountains yield.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There will we sit upon the rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the shepherds feed their flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By shallow rivers, to whose falls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melodious birds sing madrigals.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There will I make thee beds of roses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a thousand fragrant posies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cap of flowers, and a kirtle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A gown made of the finest wool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from our pretty lambs we pull,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair linéd slippers for the cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With buckles of the purest gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A belt of straw and ivy buds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With coral clasps and amber studs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if these pleasures may thee move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come live with me and be my Love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy silver dishes for thy meat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As precious as the gods do eat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall on an ivory table be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prepared each day for thee and me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shepherd swains shall dance and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy delight each May-morning:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If these delights thy mind may move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then live with me and be my Love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>C. Marlowe</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + +<h2><i>OMNIA VINCIT</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fain would I change that note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which fond Love hath charm'd me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long long to sing by rote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fancying that that harm'd me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when this thought doth come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Love is the perfect sum<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all delight,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have no other choice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Either for pen or voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sing or write.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Love! they wrong thee much<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That say thy sweet is bitter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy rich fruit is such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As nothing can be sweeter.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair house of joy and bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where truest pleasure is,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I do adore thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know thee what thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I serve thee with my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fall before thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + +<h2><i>A MADRIGAL</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Crabbed Age and Youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cannot live together:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth is full of pleasance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age is full of care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth like summer morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age like winter weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth like summer brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age like winter bare:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span><span class="i0">Youth is full of sport,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age's breath is short,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth is nimble, Age is lame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth is hot and bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age is weak and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth is wild, and Age is tame:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age, I do abhor thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth, I do adore thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! my Love, my Love is young!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age, I do defy thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet shepherd, hie thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For methinks thou stay'st too long.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Under the greenwood tree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who loves to lie with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And turn his merry note<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto the sweet bird's throat—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come hither, come hither, come hither!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Here shall he see<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No enemy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But winter and rough weather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Who doth ambition shun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loves to live i' the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seeking the food he eats<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pleased with what he gets—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come hither, come hither, come hither!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Here shall he see<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No enemy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But winter and rough weather.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was a lover and his lass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That o'er the green corn-field did pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When birds do sing hey ding a ding:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet lovers love the Spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Between the acres of the rye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These pretty country folks would lie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This carol they began that hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How that life was but a flower:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And therefore take the present time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a hey and a ho and a hey nonino!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love is crowned with the prime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spring time, the only pretty ring time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When birds do sing hey ding a ding:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet lovers love the Spring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + +<h2><i>PRESENT IN ABSENCE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Absence, hear thou this protestation<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Against thy strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Distance, and length;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do what thou canst for alteration:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For hearts of truest mettle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Absence doth join, and Time doth settle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who loves a mistress of such quality,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His mind hath found<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Affection's ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond time, place, and mortality.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hearts that cannot vary<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Absence is present, Time doth tarry.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By absence this good means I gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That I can catch her,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where none can match her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some close corner of my brain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There I embrace and kiss her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I both enjoy and miss her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Donne</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + +<h2><i>VIA AMORIS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High-way, since you my chief Parnassus be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tempers her words to trampling horses' feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More oft than to a chamber-melody,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, blesséd you bear onward blesséd me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Muse and I must you of duty greet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be you still fair, honour'd by public heed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By no encroachment wrong'd, nor time forgot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that you know I envy you no lot<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hundreds of years you Stella's feet may kiss!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir P. Sidney</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> + +<h2><i>ABSENCE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Being your slave, what should I do but tend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the hours and times of your desire?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have no precious time at all to spend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor services to do, till you require:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor dare I chide the world-without-end-hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor think the bitterness of absence sour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you have bid your servant once adieu:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor dare I question with my jealous thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But like a sad slave, stay and think of nought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save, where you are, how happy you make those;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So true a fool is love, that in your will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How like a winter hath my absence been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What old December's bareness every where!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet this time removed was summer's time:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearing the wanton burden of the prime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, thou away, the very birds are mute;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> + +<h2><i>A CONSOLATION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I all alone beweep my outcast state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look upon myself, and curse my fate;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Featured like him, like him with friends possest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what I most enjoy contented least;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply I think on Thee—and then my state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to the lark at break of day arising<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That then I scorn to change my state with kings.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE UNCHANGEABLE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O never say that I was false of heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As easy might I from myself depart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That is my home of love; if I have ranged,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like him that travels, I return again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that myself bring water for my stain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never believe, though in my nature reign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it could so preposterously be stain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For nothing this wide universe I call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To me, fair Friend, you never can be old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as you were when first your eye I eyed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have from the forests shook three summers' pride;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In process of the seasons have I seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span><span class="i0">So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere you were born, was beauty's summer dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> + +<h2><i>ROSALINE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like to the clear in highest sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all imperial glory shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of selfsame colour is her hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether unfolded, or in twines:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resembling heaven by every wink;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gods do fear whenas they glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I do tremble when I think<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beautifies Aurora's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like the silver crimson shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lips are like two budded roses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within which bounds she balm encloses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apt to entice a deity:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her neck is like a stately tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Love himself imprison'd lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To watch for glances every hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her divine and sacred eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, for Rosaline!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her paps are centres of delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Nature moulds the dew of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed perfection with the same:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With orient pearl, with ruby red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With marble white, with sapphire blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her body every way is fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet soft in touch and sweet in view:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature herself her shape admires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gods are wounded in her sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love forsakes his heavenly fires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at her eyes his brand doth light:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The absence of fair Rosaline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since for a fair there's fairer none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for her virtues so divine:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Lodge</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> + +<h2><i>COLIN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beauty sat bathing by a spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where fairest shades did hide her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cool streams ran beside her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To see what was forbidden:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But better memory said, fie!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So vain desire was chidden:—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hey nonny nonny O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hey nonny nonny!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Into a slumber then I fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When fond imagination<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to see, but could not tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her feature or her fashion.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ev'n as babes in dreams do smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sometimes fall a-weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I awaked, as wise this while<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As when I fell a-sleeping:—-<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hey nonny nonny O!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hey nonny nonny!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>The Shepherd Tonie</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> + +<h2><i>A PICTURE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subdue her heart, who makes me glad and sorry:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out of thy golden quiver<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Take thou thy strongest arrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That will through bone and marrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And me and thee of grief and fear deliver:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But come behind, for if she look upon thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! poor Love! then thou art woe-begone thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> + +<h2><i>A SONG FOR MUSIC</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep you no more, sad fountains:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What need you flow so fast?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look how the snowy mountains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven's sun doth gently waste!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But my Sun's heavenly eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">View not your weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That now lies sleeping<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Softly, now softly lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Sleeping.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep is a reconciling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A rest that peace begets:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth not the sun rise smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When fair at even he sets?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">—Rest you, then, rest, sad eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Melt not in weeping!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">While She lies sleeping<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Softly, now softly lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Sleeping!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO HIS LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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 wanderest in his shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in eternal lines to time thou growest:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>TO HIS LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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 exprest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n such a beauty as you master now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For we, which now behold these present days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2> + +<h2><i>BASIA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Turn back, you wanton flyer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And answer my desire<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With mutual greeting.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet bend a little nearer,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">True beauty still shines clearer<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In closer meeting!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hearts with hearts delighted<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should strive to be united,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each other's arms with arms enchaining,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hearts with a thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rosy lips with a kiss still entertaining.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">What harvest half so sweet is<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As still to reap the kisses<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Grown ripe in sowing?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And straight to be receiver<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of that which thou art giver,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rich in bestowing?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is no strict observing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of times' or seasons' swerving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is ever one fresh spring abiding;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then what we sow with our lips<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let us reap, love's gains dividing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>ADVICE TO A GIRL</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never love unless you can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear with all the faults of man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men sometimes will jealous be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though but little cause they see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hang the head as discontent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And speak what straight they will repent.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men, that but one Saint adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make a show of love to more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty must be scorn'd in none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though but truly served in one:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what is courtship but disguise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True hearts may have dissembling eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men, when their affairs require,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must awhile themselves retire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes hunt, and sometimes hawk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not ever sit and talk:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If these and such-like you can bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then like, and love, and never fear!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>LOVE'S PERJURIES</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On a day, alack the day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, whose month is ever May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spied a blossom passing fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Playing in the wanton air:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the velvet leaves the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All unseen, 'gan passage find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the lover, sick to death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Air, would I might triumph so!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, alack, my hand is sworn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not call it sin in me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am forsworn for thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou for whom Jove would swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Juno but an Ethiope were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deny himself for Jove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turning mortal for thy love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>A SUPPLICATION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forget not yet the tried intent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of such a truth as I have meant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My great travail so gladly spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Forget not yet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forget not yet when first began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary life ye know, since whan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The suit, the service none tell can;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Forget not yet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forget not yet the great assays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The painful patience in delays,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Forget not yet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forget not! O, forget not this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How long ago hath been, and is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mind that never meant amiss—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Forget not yet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forget not then thine own approved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The which so long hath thee so loved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose steadfast faith yet never moved—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Forget not this!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir T. Wyat</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>TO AURORA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then thou would'st melt the ice out of thy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy relenting heart would kindly warm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O if thy pride did not our joys controul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What world of loving wonders should'st thou see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if I saw thee once transform'd in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if that aught mischanced thou should'st not moan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor bear the burthen of thy griefs alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, I would have my share in what were thine:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This happy harmony would make them none.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Alexander, Earl of Sterline</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h2> + +<h2><i>IN LACRIMAS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I saw my Lady weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sorrow proud to be advancéd so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In those fair eyes where all perfections keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her face was full of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sorrow was there made fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Passion, wise; Tears, a delightful thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence, beyond all speech, a wisdom rare:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She made her sighs to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all things with so sweet a sadness move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As made my heart at once both grieve and love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O fairer than aught else<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world can show, leave off in time to grieve!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough, enough: your joyful look excels:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tears kill the heart, believe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O strive not to be excellent in woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>TRUE LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O no! it is an ever-fixéd 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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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 ev'n to the edge of doom:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If this be error, and upon me proved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never writ, nor no man ever loved.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>A DITTY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By just exchange one for another given:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There never was a better bargain driven:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His heart in me keeps him and me in one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loves my heart, for once it was his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cherish his because in me it bides:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir P. Sidney</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>LOVE'S INSIGHT</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though others may Her brow adore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet more must I, that therein see far more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than any other's eyes have power to see:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">She is to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than to any others she can be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can discern more secret notes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in the margin of her cheeks Love quotes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than any else besides have art to read:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No looks proceed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those fair eyes but to me wonder breed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>LOVE'S OMNIPRESENCE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were I as base as is the lowly plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were I as high as heaven above the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, my Love, as humble and as low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As are the deepest bottoms of the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereso'er you were, with you my love should go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love should shine on you like to the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look upon you with ten thousand eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereso'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Sylvester</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>CARPE DIEM</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O stay and hear! your true-love's coming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That can sing both high and low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trip no further, pretty sweeting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Journeys end in lovers meeting—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Every wise man's son doth know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is love? 'tis not hereafter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Present mirth hath present laughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What's to come is still unsure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In delay there lies no plenty,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Youth's a stuff will not endure.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>XXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>AN HONEST AUTOLYCUS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave, and new,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good penny-worths,—but money cannot move:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I keep a fair but for the Fair to view;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A beggar may be liberal of love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true—<br /></span> +<span class="i10">The heart is true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My trifles come as treasures from my mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a precious jewel to be plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain!<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Of me a grain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a>XXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>WINTER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When icicles hang by the wall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Tom bears logs into the hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And milk comes frozen home in pail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then nightly sings the staring owl<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Tu-whit!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tu-who! A merry note!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When all about the wind doth blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And coughing drowns the parson's saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And birds sit brooding in the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Marian's nose looks red and raw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then nightly sings the staring owl<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Tu-whit!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tu-who! A merry note!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXXVIII" id="XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That time of year thou may'st 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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To love that well which thou must leave ere long.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XXXIX" id="XXXIX"></a>XXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>MEMORY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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="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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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-bemoanéd moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I new pay as if not paid before:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—But if the while I think on thee, dear Friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All losses are restored, and sorrows end.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XL" id="XL"></a>XL</h2> + +<h2><i>SLEEP</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, Sleep: O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With shield of proof shield me from out the prease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O make in me those civil wars to cease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chamber deaf of noise and blind of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rosy garland and a weary head:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if these things, as being thine in right,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir P. Sidney</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XLI" id="XLI"></a>XLI</h2> + +<h2><i>REVOLUTIONS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praising Thy worth, despite his cruel hand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XLII" id="XLII"></a>XLII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bonds in thee are all determinate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for that riches where is my deserving?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so my patent back again is swerving.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes home again, on better judgment making.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sleep, a king; but waking, no such matter.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XLIII" id="XLIII"></a>XLIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They that have power to hurt, and will do none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That do not do the thing they most do show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmovéd, cold, and to temptation slow,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And husband nature's riches from expense;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are the lords and owners of their faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others, but stewards of their excellence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though to itself it only live and die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if that flower with base infection meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The basest weed outbraves his dignity:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XLIV" id="XLIV"></a>XLIV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE LOVER'S APPEAL</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay! for shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To save thee from the blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all my grief and grame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath loved thee so long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wealth and woe among:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is thy heart so strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for to leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath given thee my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never for to depart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither for pain nor smart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have no more pity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him that loveth thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! thy cruelty!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir T. Wyat</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XLV" id="XLV"></a>XLV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE NIGHTINGALE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As it fell upon a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the merry month of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting in a pleasant shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which a grove of myrtles made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beasts did leap and birds did sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trees did grow and plants did spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every thing did banish moan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the Nightingale alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, poor bird, as all forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there sung the dolefull'st ditty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to hear it was great pity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teru, teru, by and by:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to hear her so complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce I could from tears refrain;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span><span class="i0">For her griefs so lively shown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made me think upon mine own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None takes pity on thy pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">King Pandion, he is dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All thy friends are lapp'd in lead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All thy fellow birds do sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Careless of thy sorrowing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so, poor bird, like thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None alive will pity me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Barnefield</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XLVI" id="XLVI"></a>XLVI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brother to Death, in silent darkness born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Relieve my languish, and restore the light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dark forgetting of my care return.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And let the day be time enough to mourn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shipwreck of my ill-adventured youth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the torment of the night's untruth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To model forth the passions of the morrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never let rising Sun approve you liars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never wake to feel the day's disdain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>S. Daniel</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XLVII" id="XLVII"></a>XLVII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The nightingale, as soon as April bringeth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto her rested sense a perfect waking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While late-bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">And mournfully bewailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her throat in tunes expresseth<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What grief her breast oppresseth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Tereus' force on her chaste will prevailing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Philomela fair, O take some gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas, she hath no other cause of anguish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Tereus' love, on her by strong hand wroken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full womanlike complains her will was broken.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But I, who, daily craving,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cannot have to content me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Have more cause to lament me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since wanting is more woe than too much having.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Philomela fair, O take some gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir P. Sidney</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XLVIII" id="XLVIII"></a>XLVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>FRUSTRA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take, O take those lips away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That so sweetly were forsworn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those eyes, the break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lights that do mislead the morn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my kisses bring again,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bring again—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Seal'd in vain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="XLIX" id="XLIX"></a>XLIX</h2> + +<h2><i>LOVE'S FAREWELL</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay I have done, you get no more of me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thus so cleanly I myself can free;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when we meet at any time again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be it not seen in either of our brows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we one jot of former love retain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And innocence is closing up his eyes,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From death to life thou might'st him yet recover!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>M. Drayton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="L" id="L"></a>L</h2> + +<h2><i>IN IMAGINE PERTRANSIT HOMO</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though thou be black as night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she made all of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Follow her, whose light thy light depriveth!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though here thou liv'st disgraced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she in heaven is placed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Follow those pure beams, whose beauty burneth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That so have scorchéd thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As thou still black must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Follow her, while yet her glory shineth!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There comes a luckless night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That will dim all her light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—And this the black unhappy shade divineth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Follow still, since so thy fates ordainéd!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun must have his shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till both at once do fade,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun still proved, the shadow still disdainéd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LI" id="LI"></a>LI</h2> + +<h2><i>BLIND LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which have no correspondence with true sight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if they have, where is my judgment fled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That censures falsely what they see aright?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What means the world to say it is not so?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it be not, then love doth well denote<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's eye is not so true as all men's: No,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How can it? O how can love's eye be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is so vex'd with watching and with tears?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No marvel then though I mistake my view:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LII" id="LII"></a>LII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For who a sleeping lion dares provoke?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall suffice me here to sit and see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those lips shut up that never kindly spoke:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sight can more content a lover's mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My words have charm'd her, for secure she sleeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though guilty much of wrong done to my love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her slumber, see! she close-eyed weeps:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dreams often more than waking passions move.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she in peace may wake and pity me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LIII" id="LIII"></a>LIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE UNFAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While that the sun with his beams hot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorchéd the fruits in vale and mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Philon the shepherd, late forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting beside a crystal fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In shadow of a green oak tree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon his pipe this song play'd he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So long as I was in your sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was your heart, your soul, and treasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning in flames beyond all measure:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—Three days endured your love to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And it was lost in other three!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another Shepherd you did see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom your heart was soon enchainéd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full soon your love was leapt from me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full soon my place he had obtainéd.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon came a third, your love to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we were out and he was in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure you have made me passing glad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you your mind so soon removéd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before that I the leisure had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To choose you for my best belovéd:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all your love was past and done<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Two days before it was begun:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LIV" id="LIV"></a>LIV</h2> + +<h2><i>ADVICE TO A LOVER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sea hath many thousand sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun hath motes as many;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sky is full of stars, and Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As full of woes as any:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe me, that do know the elf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make no trial by thyself!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is in truth a pretty toy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For babes to play withal:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O! the honeys of our youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are oft our age's gall!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Self-proof in time will make thee know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was a prophet told thee so;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A prophet that, Cassandra-like,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tells truth without belief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For headstrong Youth will run his race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although his goal be grief:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's Martyr, when his heat is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proves Care's Confessor at the last.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LV" id="LV"></a>LV</h2> + +<h2><i>A RENUNCIATION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all those rosy ornaments in thee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not sweet, though made of mere delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor fair, nor sweet—unless thou pity me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not soothe thy fancies; thou shalt prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beauty is no beauty without love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Yet love not me, nor seek not to allure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts with beauty, were it more divine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy smiles and kisses I cannot endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll not be wrapp'd up in those arms of thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Now show it, if thou be a woman right—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embrace and kiss and love me in despite!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LVI" id="LVI"></a>LVI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Blow, blow, thou winter wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou art not so unkind<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As man's ingratitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy tooth is not so keen<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Because thou art not seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Although thy breath be rude.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then, heigh ho! the holly!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This life is most jolly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou dost not bite so nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As benefits forgot:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though thou the waters warp,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy sting is not so sharp<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As friend remember'd not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then, heigh ho! the holly!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This life is most jolly.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="LVII" id="LVII"></a>LVII</h2> + +<h2><i>A SWEET LULLABY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come little babe, come silly soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born as I doubt to all our dole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to thy self unhappy chief:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing Lullaby and lap it warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou little think'st and less dost know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cause of this thy mother's moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou want'st the wit to wail her woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I myself am all alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Why dost thou weep? why dost thou wail?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And knowest not yet what thou dost ail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come little wretch, ah silly heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine only joy, what can I more?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If there be any wrong thy smart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That may the destinies implore:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Twas I, I say, against my will,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I wail the time, but be thou still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And dost thou smile, oh thy sweet face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would God Himself He might thee see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No doubt thou would'st soon purchase grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know right well, for thee and me:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But come to mother, babe, and play,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For father false is fled away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet boy, if it by fortune chance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy father home again to send,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If death do strike me with his lance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet mayst thou me to him commend:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If any ask thy mother's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tell how by love she purchased blame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then will his gentle heart soon yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know him of a noble mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although a Lion in the field,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span><span class="i0">A Lamb in town thou shalt him find:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ask blessing, babe, be not afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His sugar'd words hath me betray'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then mayst thou joy and be right glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although in woe I seem to moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy father is no rascal lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A noble youth of blood and bone:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His glancing looks, if he once smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Right honest women may beguile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, little boy, and rock asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing lullaby and be thou still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I that can do nought else but weep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will sit by thee and wail my fill:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">God bless my babe, and lullaby<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From this thy father's quality!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LVIII" id="LVIII"></a>LVIII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How silently, and with how wan a face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What, may it be that e'en in heavenly place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That busy archer his sharp arrows tries!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, e'en of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are beauties there as proud as here they be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do they above love to be loved, and yet<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do they call virtue, there, ungratefulness?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir P. Sidney</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LIX" id="LIX"></a>LIX</h2> + +<h2><i>O CRUDELIS AMOR</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When thou must home to shades of underground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there arrived, a new admired guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White Iopé, blithe Helen, and the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the stories of thy finish'd love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tourneys and great challenges of Knights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou hast told' these honours done to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LX" id="LX"></a>LX</h2> + +<h2><i>SEPHESTIA'S SONG TO HER CHILD</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mother's wag, pretty boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Father's sorrow, father's joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When thy father first did see<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Such a boy by him and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He was glad, I was woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fortune changed made him so,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When he left his pretty boy<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Last his sorrow, first his joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Streaming tears that never stint,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like pearl drops from a flint,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fell by course from his eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That one another's place supplies;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thus he grieved in every part,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tears of blood fell from his heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When he left his pretty boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Father's sorrow, father's joy.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The wanton smiled, father wept,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mother cried, baby leapt;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">More he crow'd, more we cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nature could not sorrow hide:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He must go, he must kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Child and mother, baby bless,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For he left his pretty boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Father's sorrow, father's joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Greene</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXI" id="LXI"></a>LXI</h2> + +<h2><i>A LAMENT</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My thoughts hold mortal strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do detest my life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with lamenting cries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace to my soul to bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—But he, grim grinning King,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Drummond</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXII" id="LXII"></a>LXII</h2> + +<h2><i>DIRGE OF LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come away, come away, Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in sad cypres let me be laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fly away, fly away, breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am slain by a fair cruel maid.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span><span class="i0">My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O prepare it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My part of death, no one so true<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Did share it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Not a flower, not a flower sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my black coffin let there be strown;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not a friend, not a friend greet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand thousand sighs to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lay me, O where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad true lover never find my grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To weep there.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXIII" id="LXIII"></a>LXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO HIS LUTE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thy green mother in some shady grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When immelodious winds but made thee move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since that dear Voice which did thy sounds approve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What art thou but a harbinger of woe?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But orphans' wailings to the fainting ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which be silent as in woods before:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if that any hand to touch thee deign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like widow'd turtle, still her loss complain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Drummond</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LXIV" id="LXIV"></a>LXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>FIDELE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear no more the heat o' the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor the furious winter's rages;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou thy worldly task hast done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear no more the frown o' the great,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Care no more to clothe and eat;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fear not slander, censure rash;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXV" id="LXV"></a>LXV</h2> + +<h2><i>A SEA DIRGE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full fathom five thy father lies:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of his bones are coral made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those are pearls that were his eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">Hark! now I hear them,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ding, dong, bell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LXVI" id="LXVI"></a>LXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>A LAND DIRGE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since o'er shady groves they hover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with leaves and flowers do cover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The friendless bodies of unburied men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call unto his funeral dole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For with his nails he'll dig them up again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Webster</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXVII" id="LXVII"></a>LXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>POST MORTEM</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If Thou survive my well-contented day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shalt by fortune once more re-survey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Compare them with the bettering of the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though they be outstripp'd by every pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exceeded by the height of happier men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dearer birth than this his love had brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To march in ranks of better equipage:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But since he died, and poets better prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LXVIII" id="LXVIII"></a>LXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lest the wise world should look into your moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mock you with me after I am gone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXIX" id="LXIX"></a>LXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>YOUNG LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me where is Fancy bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in the heart, or in the head?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How begot, how nourishéd?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Reply, reply.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is engender'd in the eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gazing fed; and Fancy dies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the cradle where it lies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us all ring Fancy's knell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll begin it,—Ding, dong, bell.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">—Ding, dong, bell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LXX" id="LXX"></a>LXX</h2> + +<h2><i>A DILEMMA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And then behold your lips where sweet love harbours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My eyes present me with a double doubting:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXI" id="LXXI"></a>LXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>ROSALYND'S MADRIGAL</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love in my bosom, like a bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Doth suck his sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now with his wings he plays with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now with his feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within mine eyes he makes his nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His bed amidst my tender breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My kisses are his daily feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet he robs me of my rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ah! wanton, will ye?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if I sleep, then percheth he<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With pretty flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes his pillow of my knee<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The livelong night.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He music plays if so I sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He lends me every lovely thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet cruel he my heart doth sting:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whist, wanton, will ye?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Else I with roses every day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will whip you hence,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span><span class="i0">And bind you, when you long to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For your offence;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll shut my eyes to keep you in;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll make you fast it for your sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll count your power not worth a pin;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—Alas! what hereby shall I win,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If he gainsay me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What if I beat the wanton boy<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With many a rod?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will repay me with annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Because a god.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then sit thou safely on my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let thy bower my bosom be;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Cupid! so thou pity me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Spare not, but play thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Lodge</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXII" id="LXXII"></a>LXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>CUPID AND CAMPASPE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cupid and my Campaspe play'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At cards for kisses; Cupid paid:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loses them too; then down he throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coral of his lip, the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With these, the crystal of his brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the dimple on his chin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All these did my Campaspe win:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And last he set her both his eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She won, and Cupid blind did rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Love! has she done this to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What shall, alas! become of me?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Lylye</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="LXXIII" id="LXXIII"></a>LXXIII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With night we banish sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To give my Love good-morrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wings from the wind to please her mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Notes from the lark I'll borrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To give my Love good-morrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To give my Love good-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Notes from them both I'll borrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing, birds, in every furrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from each hill, let music shrill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give my fair Love good-morrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blackbird and thrush in every bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You pretty elves, amongst yourselves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing my fair Love good-morrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To give my Love good-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sing, birds, in every furrow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Heywood</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXIV" id="LXXIV"></a>LXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>PROTHALAMION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Calm was the day, and through the trembling air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I, (whom sullen care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through discontent of my long fruitless stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In princes' court, and expectation vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of idle hopes, which still do fly away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walk'd forth to ease my pain<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span><span class="i0">Along the shore of silver-streaming Thames;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose rutty bank, the which his river hems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was painted all with variable flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the meads adorn'd with dainty gems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit to deck maidens' bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crown their paramours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the bridal day, which is not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There in a meadow by the river's side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flock of nymphs I chancéd to espy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All lovely daughters of the flood thereby,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With goodly greenish locks all loose untied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As each had been a bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each one had a little wicker basket<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made of fine twigs, entrailéd curiously.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which they gather'd flowers to fill their flasket,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with fine fingers cropt full feateously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender stalks on high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of every sort which in that meadow grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gather'd some; the violet, pallid blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little daisy that at evening closes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virgin lily and the primrose true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With store of vermeil roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To deck their bridegrooms' posies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the bridal day, which was not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With that I saw two Swans of goodly hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come softly swimming down along the Lee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two fairer birds I yet did never see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snow which doth the top of Pindus strow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did never whiter show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love of Leda, whiter did appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So purely white they were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd foul to them, and bade his billows spare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wet their silken feathers, lest they might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span><span class="i0">And mar their beauties bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shone as Heaven's light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against their bridal day, which was not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers their fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran all in haste to see that silver brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they came floating on the crystal flood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom when they saw, they stood amazéd still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wondering eyes to fill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fowls, so lovely, that they sure did deem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Them heavenly born, or to be that same pair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which through the sky draw Venus' silver team;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sure they did not seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be begot of any earthly seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rather Angels, or of Angels' breed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet were they bred of summer's heat, they say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sweetest season, when each flower and weed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth did fresh array;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fresh they seem'd as day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n as their bridal day, which was not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then forth they all out of their baskets drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to the sense did fragrant odours yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All which upon those goodly birds they threw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the waves did strew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That like old Peneus' waters they did seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When down along by pleasant Tempe's shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatter'd with flowers, through Thessaly they stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they appear, through lilies' plenteous store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a bride's chamber-floor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two of those nymphs meanwhile two garlands bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The which presenting all in trim array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crown'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst one did sing this lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prepared against that day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against their bridal day, which was not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly till I end my song.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Ye gentle birds! the world's fair ornament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven's glory, whom this happy hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth lead unto your lovers' blissful bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy may you have, and gentle heart's content<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your love's couplement;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let fair Venus, that is queen of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her heart-quelling son upon you smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All love's dislike, and friendship's faulty guile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever to assoil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blesséd plenty wait upon your board;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let your bed with pleasures chaste abound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fruitful issue may to you afford<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which may your foes confound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make your joys redound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon your bridal day, which is not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So ended she; and all the rest around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her redoubled that her undersong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which said their bridal day should not be long:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle Echo from the neighbour ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their accents did resound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So forth those joyous birds did pass along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adown the Lee that to them murmur'd low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he would speak but that he lack'd a tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet did by signs his glad affection show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making his stream run slow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gan flock about these twain, that did excel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lesser stars. So they, enrangéd well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did on those two attend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their best service lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against their wedding day, which was not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At length they all to merry London came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To merry London, my most kindly nurse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to me gave this life's first native source,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though from another place I take my name,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span><span class="i0">An house of ancient fame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There when they came whereas those bricky towers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The which on Thames' broad agéd back do ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There whilome wont the Templar-knights to bide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till they decay'd through pride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next whereunto there stands a stately place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where oft I gainéd gifts and goodly grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose want too well now feels my friendless case;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! here fits not well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old woes, but joys to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the bridal day, which is not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great England's glory and the world's wide wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose dreadful name late through all Spain did thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Hercules' two pillars standing near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did make to quake and fear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fillest England with thy triumphs' fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy have thou of thy noble victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And endless happiness of thine own name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That promiseth the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That through thy prowess and victorious arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy country may be freed from foreign harms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And great Elisa's glorious name may ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which some brave Muse may sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ages following:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the bridal day, which is not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From those high towers this noble lord issúing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like radiant Hesper, when his golden hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In th' ocean billows he hath bathéd fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descended to the river's open viewing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a great train ensuing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the rest were goodly to be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span><span class="i0">Beseeming well the bower of any queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit for so goodly stature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which deck the baldric of the Heavens bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They two, forth pacing to the river's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Received those two fair brides, their love's delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, at th' appointed tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each one did make his bride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against their bridal day, which is not long:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>E. Spenser</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXV" id="LXXV"></a>LXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE HAPPY HEART</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O sweet content!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplex'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O punishment!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vex'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To add to golden numbers, golden numbers?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Work apace, apace, apace, apace;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Honest labour bears a lovely face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Canst drink the waters of the crispéd spring?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O sweet content!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O punishment!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he that patiently want's burden bears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No burden bears, but is a king, a king!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Work apace, apace, apace, apace;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Honest labour bears a lovely face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Dekker</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="LXXVI" id="LXXVI"></a>LXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>SIC TRANSIT</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For while thou view'st me with thy fading light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Part of my life doth still depart with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I still onward haste to my last night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So every day we live a day we die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But O ye nights, ordain'd for barren rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How are my days deprived of life in you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When heavy sleep my soul hath dispossest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By feignéd death life sweetly to renew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Part of my life, in that, you life deny:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So every day we live, a day we die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXVII" id="LXXVII"></a>LXXVII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This Life, which seems so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is like a bubble blown up in the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sporting children's breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who chase it everywhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strive who can most motion it bequeath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though it sometimes seem of its own might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to an eye of gold to be fix'd there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And firm to hover in that empty height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That only is because it is so light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—But in that pomp it doth not long appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when 'tis most admired, in a thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Drummond</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LXXVIII" id="LXXVIII"></a>LXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>SOUL AND BODY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">[Foil'd by] those rebel powers that thee array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why so large cost, having so short a lease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, Soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let that pine to aggravate thy store;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within be fed, without be rich no more:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death once dead, there's no more dying then.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXIX" id="LXXIX"></a>LXXIX</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The man of life upright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose guiltless heart is free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all dishonest deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or thought of vanity;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The man whose silent days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In harmless joys are spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom hopes cannot delude<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor sorrow discontent:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That man needs neither towers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor armour for defence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor secret vaults to fly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From thunder's violence:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He only can behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With unaffrighted eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The horrors of the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And terrors of the skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus scorning all the cares<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fate or fortune brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He makes the heaven his book,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His wisdom heavenly things;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good thoughts his only friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His wealth a well-spent age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth his sober inn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And quiet pilgrimage.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXX" id="LXXX"></a>LXXX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE LESSONS OF NATURE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of this fair volume which we World do name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Him who it corrects, and did it frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We clear might read the art and wisdom rare:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Find out His power which wildest powers doth tame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His providence extending everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His justice which proud rebels doth not spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every page, no period of the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But silly we, like foolish children, rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well pleased with colour'd vellum, leaves of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair dangling ribbands, leaving what is best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the great Writer's sense ne'er taking hold;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if by chance we stay our minds on aught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is some picture on the margin wrought.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Drummond</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="LXXXI" id="LXXXI"></a>LXXXI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this the justice which on Earth we find?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this that firm decree which all doth bind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are these your influences, Powers above?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those souls which vice's moody mists most blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind Fortune, blindly, most their friend doth prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they who thee, poor idol Virtue! love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ply like a feather toss'd by storm and wind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! if a Providence doth sway this all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should best minds groan under most distress?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or why should pride humility make thrall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And injuries the innocent oppress?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heavens! hinder, stop this fate; or grant a time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When good may have, as well as bad, their prime!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Drummond</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXXII" id="LXXXII"></a>LXXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE WORLD'S WAY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Shakespeare</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LXXXIII" id="LXXXIII"></a>LXXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>A WISH</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy were he could finish forth his fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some unhaunted desert, where, obscure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all society, from love and hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of worldly folk, there should he sleep secure;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then wake again, and yield God ever praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content with hip, with haws, and brambleberry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In contemplation passing still his days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And change of holy thoughts to make him merry:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who, when he dies, his tomb might be the bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where harmless robin resteth with the thrush:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">—Happy were he!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Devereux, Earl of Essex</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXXIV" id="LXXXIV"></a>LXXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>SAINT JOHN BAPTIST</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he more harmless found than man, and mild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His food was locusts, and what there doth spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With honey that from virgin hives distill'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made him appear, long since from earth exiled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There burst he forth: All ye whose hopes rely<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Who listen'd to his voice, obey'd his cry?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only the echoes, which he made relent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rung from their flinty caves, Repent! Repent!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Drummond</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> +<h2>The Golden Treasury</h2> + +<h2><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II"></a>Book Second</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LXXXV" id="LXXXV"></a>LXXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the month, and this the happy morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our great redemption from above did bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For so the holy sages once did sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that far-beaming blaze of Majesty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherewith He wont at Heaven's high council-table<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He laid aside; and, here with us to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afford a present to the Infant God?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To welcome Him to this His new abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See how from far, upon the eastern road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O run, prevent them with thy humble ode<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay it lowly at His blessed feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And join thy voice unto the Angel quire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From out His secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><i>THE HYMN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was the winter wild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the heaven-born Child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature in awe to Him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had doff'd her gaudy trim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her great Master so to sympathize:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Only with speeches fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She woos the gentle air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hide her guilty front with innocent snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on her naked shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pollute with sinful blame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The saintly veil of maiden white to throw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">But He, her fears to cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent down the meek-eyed Peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down through the turning sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ready harbinger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waving wide her myrtle wand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No war, or battle's sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was heard the world around:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The idle spear and shield were high uphung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hookéd chariot stood<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span><span class="i0">Unstain'd with hostile blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trumpet spake not to the arméd throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">But peaceful was the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein the Prince of Light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His reign of peace upon the earth began:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds, with wonder whist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smoothly the waters kist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering new joys to the mild oceán—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now hath quite forgot to rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While birds of calm sit brooding on the charméd wave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stars, with deep amaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bending one way their precious influence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will not take their flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the morning light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in their glimmering orbs did glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until their Lord Himself bespake, and bid them go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though the shady gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had given day her room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hid his head for shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As his inferior flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The new-enlighten'd world no more should need;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">The shepherds on the lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ere the point of dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sate simply chatting in a rustic row;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full little thought they than<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the mighty Pan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was kindly come to live with them below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When such music sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hearts and ears did greet<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span><span class="i0">As never was by mortal finger strook—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divinely-warbled voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answering the stringéd noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As all their souls in blissful rapture took:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Nature, that heard such sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the hollow round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now was almost won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think her part was done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that her reign had here its last fulfilling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew such harmony alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At last surrounds their sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A globe of circular light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with long beams the shamefaced night array'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The helméd Cherubim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sworded Seraphim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Such music (as 'tis said)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before was never made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when of old the Sons of Morning sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the Creator great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His constellations set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the well-balanced world on hinges hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cast the dark foundations deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring out, ye crystal spheres!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once bless our human ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ye have power to touch our senses so;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let your silver chime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move in melodious time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with your ninefold harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For if such holy song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enwrap our fancy long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And speckled Vanity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will sicken soon and die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Hell itself will pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yea, Truth and Justice then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will down return to men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mercy will sit between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throned in celestial sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">But wisest Fate says No;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This must not yet be so;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on the bitter cross<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must redeem our loss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So both Himself and us to glorify:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With such a horrid clang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As on Mount Sinai rang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The aged Earth aghast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With terror of that blast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall from the surface to the centre shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, at the world's last sessión,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then at last our bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full and perfect is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now begins; for from this happy day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old Dragon under ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In straiter limits bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not half so far casts his usurpéd sway;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span><span class="i0">And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Oracles are dumb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No voice or hideous hum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Runs through the archéd roof in words deceiving.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo from his shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can no more divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No nightly trance or breathéd spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lonely mountains o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the resounding shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From haunted spring and dale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Edged with poplar pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parting Genius is With sighing sent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flower-inwoven tresses torn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In consecrated earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the holy hearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lars and Lemurés moan with midnight plaint;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In urns, and altars round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A drear and dying sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the chill marble seems to sweat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted seat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peor and Baalim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsake their temples dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moonéd Ashtaroth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's queen and mother both,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And sullen Moloch, fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath left in shadows dread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His burning idol all of blackest hue;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span><span class="i0">In vain with cymbals' ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They call the grisly king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dismal dance about the furnace blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Nor is Osiris seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Memphian grove, or green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can he be at rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within his sacred chest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sable-stoléd sorcerers bear his worshipt ark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He feels from Juda's land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreaded Infant's hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor all the gods beside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Longer dare abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Babe, to show His Godhead true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can in His swaddling bands control the damnéd crew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, when the sun in bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curtain'd with cloudy red<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flocking shadows pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Troop to the infernal jail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the yellow-skirted fays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But see! the Virgin blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath laid her Babe to rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time is, our tedious song should here have ending:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's youngest-teeméd star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath fix'd her polish'd car,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sleeping Lord with hand-maid lamp attending:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all about the courtly stable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="LXXXVI" id="LXXXVI"></a>LXXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1687</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This universal frame began:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Nature underneath a heap<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of jarring atoms lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And could not heave her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tuneful voice was heard from high,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i4">And Music's power obey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From harmony, from heavenly harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This universal frame began:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What passion cannot Music raise and quell?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When Jubal struck the chorded shell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His listening brethren stood around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, wondering, on their faces fell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To worship that celestial sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less than a god they thought there could not dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Within the hollow of that shell<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i0">The trumpet's loud clangor<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Excites us to arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shrill notes of anger<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mortal alarms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The double double double beat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the thundering drum<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cries 'Hark! the foes come;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The soft complaining flute<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In dying notes discovers<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span><span class="i2">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="i2">Sharp violins proclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their jealous pangs and desperation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fury, frantic indignation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Depth of pains, and height of passion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the fair disdainful dame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But oh! what art can teach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What human voice can reach<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sacred organ's praise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Notes inspiring holy love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Notes that wing their heavenly ways<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mend the choirs above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Orpheus could lead the savage race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trees unrooted left their place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sequacious of the lyre:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to her Organ vocal breath was given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An Angel heard, and straight appear'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mistaking Earth for Heaven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Grand Chorus</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As from the power of sacred lays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spheres began to move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sung the great Creator's praise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To all the blest above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So when the last and dreadful hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This crumbling pageant shall devour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trumpet shall be heard on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead shall live, the living die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Music shall untune the sky.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Dryden</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXXVII" id="LXXXVII"></a>LXXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even them who kept Thy truth so pure of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all our fathers worshipt stocks and stones,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forget not: In Thy book record their groans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that roll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The vales redoubled to the hills, and they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hundred-fold, who, having learnt Thy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Early may fly the Babylonian woe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXXVIII" id="LXXXVIII"></a>LXXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The forward youth that would appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must now forsake his Muses dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor in the shadows sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His numbers languishing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis time to leave the books in dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oil the unuséd armour's rust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Removing from the wall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The corslet of the hall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So restless Cromwell could not cease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the inglorious arts of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But through adventurous war<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Urgéd his active star:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And like the three-fork'd lightning, first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breaking the clouds where it was nurst,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did thorough his own Side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His fiery way divide:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For 'tis all one to courage high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The emulous, or enemy;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with such, to enclose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is more than to oppose;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then burning through the air he went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And palaces and temples rent;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Caesar's head at last<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did through his laurels blast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis madness to resist or blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The face of angry heaven's flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And if we would speak true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Much to the Man is due<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who, from his private gardens, where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lived reservéd and austere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(As if his highest plot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To plant the bergamot,)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could by industrious valour climb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ruin the great work of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cast the Kingdoms old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into another mould;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though Justice against Fate complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plead the ancient Rights in vain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But those do hold or break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As men are strong or weak;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nature, that hateth emptiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allows of penetration less,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And therefore must make room<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where greater spirits come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What field of all the civil war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where his were not the deepest scar?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Hampton shows what part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He had of wiser art,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where, twining subtle fears with hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wove a net of such a scope<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Charles himself might chase<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Carisbrook's narrow case,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That thence the Royal actor borne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tragic scaffold might adorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While round the arméd bands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did clap their bloody hands.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He nothing common did or mean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon that memorable scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But with his keener eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The axe's edge did try;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor call'd the Gods, with vulgar spite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vindicate his helpless right;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But bow'd his comely head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down, as upon a bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—This was that memorable hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which first assured the forcéd power:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So when they did design<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Capitol's first line,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A Bleeding Head, where they begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did fright the architects to run;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet in that the State<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Foresaw its happy fate!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now the Irish are ashamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see themselves in one year tamed:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So much one man can do<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That does both act and know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They can affirm his praises best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have, though overcome, confest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How good he is, how just<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fit for highest trust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor yet grown stiffer with command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still in the Republic's hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How fit he is to sway<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That can so well obey!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He to the Commons' feet presents<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Kingdom for his first year's rents,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And (what he may) forbears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His fame, to make it theirs:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And has his sword and spoils ungirt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lay them at the Public's skirt.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So when the falcon high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Falls heavy from the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She, having kill'd, no more doth search<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on the next green bough to perch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where, when he first does lure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The falconer has her sure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—What may not then our Isle presume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While victory his crest does plume?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What may not others fear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If thus he crowns each year?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As Caesar he, ere long, to Gaul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Italy an Hannibal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to all States not free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall climacteric be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Pict no shelter now shall find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within his parti-colour'd mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But from this valour sad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shrink underneath the plaid—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy, if in the tufted brake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The English hunter him mistake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor lay his hounds in near<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Caledonian deer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Thou, the War's and Fortune's son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">March indefatigably on;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And for the last effect<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still keep the sword erect:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Besides the force it has to fright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirits of the shady night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The same arts that did gain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A power, must it maintain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Marvell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="LXXXIX" id="LXXXIX"></a>LXXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>LYCIDAS</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Elegy on a Friend drowned in the Irish Channel 1637</i></p> + +<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="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></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">Compels 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 rhyme.<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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 appear'd<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 gray-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">Temper'd to the oaten flute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the glad sound would not be absent long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And old Damoetas loved to hear our song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></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 shepherd's ear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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="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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Alas! what boots it with uncessant 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 Neaera'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="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">Phoebus replied, and touch'd 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="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd 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 ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And question'd every gust of rugged wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blows from off each beaked promontory:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They knew not of his story;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sage Hippotadés their answer brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air was calm, and on the level brine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleek Panopé with all her sisters play'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was that fatal and perfidious bark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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="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 learn'd 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="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></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 swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides 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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Return, Alphéus; the dread voice is past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,<br /></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 enamell'd eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on the green turf suck the honey'd 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 freak'd 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 amarantus all his beauty shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And daffadillies fill their cups with tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To strew the laureat hearse 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="i0">Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash far away,—where'er thy bones are hurl'd,<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">Sleep'st 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 toward 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="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Weep no more, woeful 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="i0">Through the dear might of Him that walk'd 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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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 touch'd 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 stretch'd out all the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now was dropt into the western bay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XC" id="XC"></a>XC</h2> + +<h2><i>ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mortality, behold and fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a change of flesh is here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think how many royal bones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep within these heaps of stones;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here they lie, had realms and lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now want strength to stir their hands,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span><span class="i0">Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They preach, 'In greatness is no trust.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's an acre sown indeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the richest royallest seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the earth did e'er suck in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the first man died for sin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here the bones of birth have cried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Though gods they were, as men they died!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here are sands, ignoble things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a world of pomp and state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buried in dust, once dead by fate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>F. Beaumont</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XCI" id="XCI"></a>XCI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE LAST CONQUEROR</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Victorious men of earth, no more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proclaim how wide your empires are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though you bind-in every shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And your triumphs reach as far<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As night or day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mingle with forgotten ashes, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Devouring Famine, Plague, and War,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each able to undo mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death's servile emissaries are;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor to these alone confined,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He hath at will<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More quaint and subtle ways to kill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Shirley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XCII" id="XCII"></a>XCII</h2> + +<h2><i>DEATH THE LEVELLER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glories of our blood and state<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are shadows, not substantial things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no armour against fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death lays his icy hand on kings:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span><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="i2">And plant fresh laurels where they kill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But their strong nerves at last must yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The garlands wither on your brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then boast no more your mighty deeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon Death's purple altar now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Shirley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XCIII" id="XCIII"></a>XCIII</h2> + +<h2><i>WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If deed of honour did thee ever please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guard them, and him within protect from harms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He can requite thee; for he knows the charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That call fame on such gentle acts as these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great Emathian conqueror bid spare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span><span class="i0">Went to the ground: and the repeated air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sad Electra's poet had the power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XCIV" id="XCIV"></a>XCIV</h2> + +<h2><i>ON HIS BLINDNESS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I consider how my light is spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that one talent which is death to hide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To serve therewith my Maker, and present<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My true account, lest He returning chide,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth God exact day labour, light denied?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fondly ask:—But Patience, to prevent<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That murmur, soon replies; God doth not need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Either man's work, or His own gifts: who best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And post o'er land and ocean without rest:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They also serve who only stand and wait.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XCV" id="XCV"></a>XCV</h2> + +<h2><i>CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How happy is he born and taught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That serveth not another's will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose armour is his honest thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And simple truth his utmost skill!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose passions not his masters are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose soul is still prepared for death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untied unto the world by care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of public fame, or private breath;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who envies none that chance doth raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor vice; Who never understood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How deepest wounds are given by praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor rules of state, but rules of good:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who hath his life from rumours freed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose conscience is his strong retreat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose state can neither flatterers feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ruin make oppressors great;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who God doth late and early pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More of His grace than gifts to lend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And entertains the harmless day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a religious book or friend;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—This man is freed from servile bands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord of himself, though not of lands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And having nothing, yet hath all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir H. Wotton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XCVI" id="XCVI"></a>XCVI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE NOBLE NATURE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">It is not growing like a tree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bulk, doth make Man better be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A lily of a day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is fairer far in May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although it fall and die that night—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was the plant and flower of Light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In small proportions we just beauties see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in short measures life may perfect be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>B. Jonson</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="XCVII" id="XCVII"></a>XCVII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE GIFTS OF GOD</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">When God at first made Man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having a glass of blessings standing by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us (said He) pour on him all we can:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the world's riches, which disperséd lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Contract into a span.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">So strength first made a way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When almost all was out, God made a stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rest in the bottom lay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">For if I should (said He)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bestow this jewel also on My creature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would adore My gifts instead of Me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So both should losers be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Yet let him keep the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But keep them with repining restlessness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him be rich and weary, that at least,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If goodness lead him not, yet weariness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May toss him to My breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>G. Herbert</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XCVIII" id="XCVIII"></a>XCVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE RETREAT</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy those early days, when I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shined in my Angel-infancy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before I understood this place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appointed for my second race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or taught my soul to fancy aught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a white, celestial thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When yet I had not walk'd above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mile or two from my first Love,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span><span class="i0">And looking back, at that short space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could see a glimpse of His bright face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on some gilded cloud or flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My gazing soul would dwell an hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in those weaker glories spy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some shadows of eternity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before I taught my tongue to wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My conscience with a sinful sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or had the black art to dispense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A several sin to every sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But felt through all this fleshly dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright shoots of everlastingness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O how I long to travel back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tread again that ancient track!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might once more reach that plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where first I left my glorious train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whence th' enlighten'd spirit sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shady City of palm trees!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! my soul with too much stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is drunk, and staggers in the way:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some men a forward motion love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I by backward steps would move;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when this dust falls to the urn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that state I came, return.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>H. Vaughan</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="XCIX" id="XCIX"></a>XCIX</h2> + +<h2><i>TO MR. LAWRENCE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now that the fields are dank and ways are mire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help waste a sullen day, what may be won<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the hard season gaining? Time will run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He who of those delights can judge, and spare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To interpose them oft, is not unwise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="C" id="C"></a>C</h2> + +<h2><i>TO CYRIACK SKINNER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of British Themis, with no mean applause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which others at their bar so often wrench;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In mirth, that after no repenting draws;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what the Swede intend, and what the French.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To measure life learn thou betimes, and know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For other things mild Heaven a time ordains,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And disapproves that care, though wise in show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with superfluous burden loads the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CI" id="CI"></a>CI</h2> + +<h2><i>A HYMN IN PRAISE OF NEPTUNE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of Neptune's empire let us sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At whose command the waves obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom the rivers tribute pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the high mountains sliding;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom the scaly nation yields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Homage for the crystal fields<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wherein they dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span><span class="i0">And every sea-god pays a gem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yearly out of his watery cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To deck great Neptune's diadem.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Tritons dancing in a ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before his palace gates do make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The water with their echoes quake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the great thunder sounding:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea-nymphs chaunt their accents shrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Syrens taught to kill<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With their sweet voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make every echoing rock reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto their gentle murmuring noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The praise of Neptune's empery.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CII" id="CII"></a>CII</h2> + +<h2><i>HYMN TO DIANA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now the sun is laid to sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seated in thy silver chair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">State in wonted manner keep:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hesperus entreats thy light,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth, let not thy envious shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dare itself to interpose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cynthia's shining orb was made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven to clear when day did close:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bless us then with wishéd sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lay thy bow of pearl apart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy crystal-shining quiver;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give unto the flying hart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Space to breathe, how short soever:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou that mak'st a day of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Goddess excellently bright!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>B. Jonson</i></p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CIII" id="CIII"></a>CIII</h2> + +<h2><i>WISHES FOR THE SUPPOSED MISTRESS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whoe'er she be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not impossible She<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shall command my heart and me;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er she lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lock'd up from mortal eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In shady leaves of destiny:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Till that ripe birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of studied Fate stand forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach her fair steps tread our earth;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Till that divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Idea take a shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Meet you her, my Wishes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bespeak her to my blisses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be ye call'd, my absent kisses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I wish her beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That owes not all its duty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Something more than<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taffata or tissue can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or rampant feather, or rich fan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A face that's best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By its own beauty drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And can alone commend the rest:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A face made up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of no other shop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sidneian showers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sweet discourse, whose powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whate'er delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can make day's forehead bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or give down to the wings of night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft silken hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open suns, shady bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Days, that need borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No part of their good morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From a fore-spent night of sorrow:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Days, that in spite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of darkness, by the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a clear mind are day all night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life, that dares send<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A challenge to his end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish her store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of worth may leave her poor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wishes; and I wish——no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now, if Time knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Her, whose radiant brows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weave them a garland of my vows;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her that dares be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What these lines wish to see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seek no further, it is She.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis She, and here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! I unclothe and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wishes' cloudy character.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such worth as this is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall fix my flying wishes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And determine them to kisses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let her full glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fancies, fly before ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be ye my fictions:—but her story.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Crashaw</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CIV" id="CIV"></a>CIV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE GREAT ADVENTURER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Over the mountains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And over the waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And under the graves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under floods that are deepest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Neptune obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over rocks that are steepest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love will find out the way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where there is no place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the glow-worm to lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where there is no space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For receipt of a fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the midge dares not venture<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest herself fast she lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love come, he will enter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon find out his way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You may esteem him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A child for his might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or you may deem him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A coward from his flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if she whom love doth honour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be conceal'd from the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set a thousand guards upon her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love will find out the way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some think to lose him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By having him confined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some do suppose him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor thing, to be blind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if ne'er so close ye wall him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do the best that you may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind love, if so ye call him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will find out his way.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You may train the eagle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stoop to your fist;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or you may inveigle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The phoenix of the east;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lioness, ye may move her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give o'er her prey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you'll ne'er stop a lover:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will find out his way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CV" id="CV"></a>CV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE PICTURE OF LITTLE T.C. IN A PROSPECT OF FLOWERS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See with what simplicity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This nymph begins her golden days!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the green grass she loves to lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there with her fair aspect tames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wilder flowers, and gives them names;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But only with the roses plays,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And them does tell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What colours best become them, and what smell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who can foretell for what high cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This darling of the Gods was born?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet this is she whose chaster laws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanton Love shall one day fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, under her command severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See his bow broke, and ensigns torn.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Happy who can<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Appease this virtuous enemy of man!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O then let me in time compound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And parley with those conquering eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere they have tried their force to wound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere with their glancing wheels they drive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In triumph over hearts that strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And them that yield but more despise:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Let me be laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where I may see the glories from some shade.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mean time, whilst every verdant thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Itself does at thy beauty charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reform the errors of the Spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make that the tulips may have share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sweetness, seeing they are fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roses of their thorns disarm;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But most procure<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That violets may a longer age endure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But O young beauty of the woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gather the flowers, but spare the buds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest <span class="smcap">Flora</span>, angry at thy crime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kill her infants in their prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should quickly make th' example yours;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And ere we see—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nip in the blossom—all our hopes and thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Marvell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CVI" id="CVI"></a>CVI</h2> + +<h2><i>CHILD AND MAIDEN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As unconcern'd as when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your infant beauty could beget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No happiness or pain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I the dawn used to admire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And praised the coming day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I little thought the rising fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would take my rest away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your charms in harmless childhood lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like metals in a mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age from no face takes more away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than youth conceal'd in thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as your charms insensibly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To their perfection prest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So love as unperceived did fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And center'd in my breast.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My passion with your beauty grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Cupid at my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still as his mother favour'd you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Threw a new flaming dart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each gloried in their wanton part;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make a lover, he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Employ'd the utmost of his art—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make a beauty, she.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir C. Sedley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CVII" id="CVII"></a>CVII</h2> + +<h2><i>CONSTANCY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I cannot change, as others do,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though you unjustly scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since that poor swain that sighs for you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For you alone was born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, Phyllis, no, your heart to move<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A surer way I'll try,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to revenge my slighted love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will still love on, and die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When, kill'd with grief, Amintas lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you to mind shall call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sighs that now unpitied rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tears that vainly fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That welcome hour that ends his smart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will then begin your pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For such a faithful tender heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can never break in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Wilmot, Earl of Rochester</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CVIII" id="CVIII"></a>CVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>COUNSEL TO GIRLS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old Time is still a-flying:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this same flower that smiles to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow will be dying.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The higher he's a-getting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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">That age is best which is the first,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When youth and blood are warmer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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">Then be not coy, but use your time;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And while ye may, go marry:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For having lost but once your prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You may for ever tarry.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Herrick</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CIX" id="CIX"></a>CIX</h2> + +<h2><i>TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That from the nunnery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">The first foe in the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a stronger faith embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sword, a horse, a shield.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet this inconstancy is such<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As you too shall adore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could not love thee, Dear, so much,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loved I not Honour more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Colonel Lovelace</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CX" id="CX"></a>CX</h2> + +<h2><i>ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You meaner beauties of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That poorly satisfy our eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More by your number than your light,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span><span class="i2">You common people of the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i2">That warble forth dame Nature's lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking your passions understood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By your weak accents; what's your praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Philomel her voice doth raise?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You violets that first appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By your pure purple mantles known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the proud virgins of the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if the spring were all your own,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are you, when the Rose is blown?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So when my Mistress shall be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In form and beauty of her mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By virtue first, then choice, a Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tell me, if she were not design'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' eclipse and glory of her kind?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir H. Wotton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXI" id="CXI"></a>CXI</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Daughter to that good Earl, once President<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of England's Council and her Treasury,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lived in both, unstain'd with gold or fee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left them both, more in himself content,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Till the sad breaking of that Parliament<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broke him, as that dishonest victory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Chaeroneia, fatal to liberty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kill'd with report that old man eloquent;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though later born than to have known the days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Madam, methinks I see him living yet;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So well your words his noble virtues praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all both judge you to relate them true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to possess them, honour'd Margaret.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXII" id="CXII"></a>CXII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE TRUE BEAUTY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that loves a rosy cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or a coral lip admires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or from star-like eyes doth seek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fuel to maintain his fires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As old Time makes these decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So his flames must waste away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But a smooth and steadfast mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearts with equal love combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kindle never-dying fires:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where these are not, I despise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Carew</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXIII" id="CXIII"></a>CXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO DIANEME</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which starlike sparkle in their skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor be you proud, that you can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All hearts your captives; yours yet free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be you not proud of that rich hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wantons with the lovesick air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whenas that ruby which you wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will last to be a precious stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all your world of beauty's gone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Herrick.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXIV" id="CXIV"></a>CXIV</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old Time will make thee colder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though each morning new arise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet we each day grow older.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span><span class="i0">Thou as Heaven art fair and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine eyes like twin stars shining;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ere another day be sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All these will be declining.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then winter comes with all his fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all thy sweets shall borrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too late then wilt thou shower thy tears,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I too late shall sorrow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXV" id="CXV"></a>CXV</h2> + +<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> + +<p class="p1"><i>E. Waller</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXVI" id="CXVI"></a>CXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>TO CELIA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drink to me only with thine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I will pledge with mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or leave a kiss but in the cup<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I'll not look for wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thirst that from the soul doth rise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth ask a drink divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But might I of Jove's nectar sup,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">Not so much honouring thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As giving it a hope that there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It could not wither'd be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou thereon didst only breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sent'st it back to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not of itself but thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>B. Jonson</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXVII" id="CXVII"></a>CXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>CHERRY-RIPE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a garden in her face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where roses and white lilies blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heavenly paradise is that place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There cherries grow that none may buy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those cherries fairly do enclose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of orient pearl a double row,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which when her lovely laughter shows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet them no peer nor prince may buy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her eyes like angels watch them still;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her brows like bended bows do stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that approach with eye or hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These sacred cherries to come nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXVIII" id="CXVIII"></a>CXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>CORINNA'S MAYING</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See how Aurora throws her fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh-quilted colours through the air:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Get up, sweet Slug-a-bed, and see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dew bespangling herb and tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each flower has wept, and bow'd toward the east,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above an hour since; yet you not drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay! not so much as out of bed?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all the birds have matins said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sung their thankful hymns: 'tis sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, profanation, to keep in,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whenas a thousand virgins on this day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch-in May,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise; and put on your foliage, and be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweet as Flora. Take no care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For jewels for your gown, or hair:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fear not; the leaves will strew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gems in abundance upon you:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against you come, some orient pearls unwept:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, and receive them while the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Titan on the eastern hill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Retires himself, or else stands still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few beads are best, when once we go a Maying.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How each field turns a street; each street a park<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made green, and trimm'd with trees: see how<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Devotion gives each house a bough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or branch: Each porch, each door, ere this,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An ark, a tabernacle is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if here were those cooler shades of love.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can such delights be in the street,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And open fields, and we not see't?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, we'll abroad: and let's obey<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The proclamation made for May:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sin no more, as we have done, by staying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's not a budding boy, or girl, this day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But is got up, and gone to bring in May.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A deal of youth, ere this, is come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Back, and with white-thorn laden home.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before that we have left to dream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Many a green-gown has been given;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Many a kiss, both odd and even:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Many a glance too has been sent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From out the eye, Love's firmament:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a jest told of the keys betraying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This night, and locks pick'd:—Yet we're not a Maying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Come, let us go, while we are in our prime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take the harmless folly of the time!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We shall grow old apace, and die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before we know our liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our life is short; and our days run<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fast away as does the sun:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a vapour, or a drop of rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once lost, can ne'er be found again:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So when or you or I are made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fable, song, or fleeting shade;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span><span class="i2">All love, all liking, all delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lies drown'd with us in endless night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, my Corinna! come, let's go a Maying.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Herrick</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXIX" id="CXIX"></a>CXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE POETRY OF DRESS</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><b>I</b></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sweet disorder in the dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindles in clothes a wantonness:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lawn about the shoulders thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into a fine distractión,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An erring lace, which here and there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enthrals the crimson stomacher,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cuff neglectful, and thereby<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ribbands to flow confusedly,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A winning wave, deserving note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the tempestuous petticoat,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A careless shoe-string, in whose tie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see a wild civility,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do more bewitch me, than when art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is too precise in every part.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Herrick</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXX" id="CXX"></a>CXX</h2> + +<p class="center"><b>2</b></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whenas in silks my Julia goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That liquefaction of her clothes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Next, when I cast mine eyes and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brave vibration each way free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O how that glittering taketh me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Herrick</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CXXI" id="CXXI"></a>CXXI</h2> + +<p class="center"><b>3</b></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Love in her attire doth shew her wit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It doth so well become her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For every season she hath dressings fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Winter, Spring, and Summer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No beauty she doth miss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all her robes are on:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Beauty's self she is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all her robes are gone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXII" id="CXXII"></a>CXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>ON A GIRDLE</i></h2> + +<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 ribband bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take all the rest the Sun goes round.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>E. Waller</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXIII" id="CXXIII"></a>CXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>A MYSTICAL ECSTASY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E'en like two little bank-dividing brooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And having ranged and search'd a thousand nooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where in a greater current they conjoin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I my Best-Belovéd's am; so He is mine.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E'en so we met; and after long pursuit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en so we join'd; we both became entire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No need for either to renew a suit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I was flax and he was flames of fire:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our firm-united souls did more than twine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I my Best-Belovéd's am; so He is mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If all those glittering Monarchs that command<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The servile quarters of this earthly ball,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would not change my fortunes for them all:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world's but theirs; but my Belovéd's mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>F. Quarles</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXIV" id="CXXIV"></a>CXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>TO ANTHEA WHO MAY COMMAND HIM ANY THING</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bid me to live, and I will live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy Protestant to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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">A heart as soft, a heart as kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heart as sound and free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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">Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To honour thy decree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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">Bid me to weep, and I will weep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While I have eyes to see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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">Bid me despair, and I'll despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under that cypress tree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bid me die, and I will dare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en Death, to die for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou art my life, my love, my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The very eyes of me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hast command of every part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To live and die for thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Herrick</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXV" id="CXXV"></a>CXXV</h2> + +<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="i4">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="i4">To doat upon me ever!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXVI" id="CXXVI"></a>CXXVI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not, Celia, that I juster am<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or better than the rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I would change each hour, like them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were not my heart at rest,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I am tied to very thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By every thought I have;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy face I only care to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy heart I only crave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All that in woman is adored<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In thy dear self I find—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the whole sex can but afford<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The handsome and the kind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why then should I seek further store,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still make love anew?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When change itself can give no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis easy to be true.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir C. Sedley</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXXVII" id="CXXVII"></a>CXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Love with unconfinéd wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hovers within my gates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my divine Althea brings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whisper at the grates;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I lie tangled in her hair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fetter'd to her eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gods that wanton in the air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Know no such liberty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When flowing cups run swiftly round<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With no allaying Thames,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our careless heads with roses bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hearts with loyal flames;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thirsty grief in wine we steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When healths and draughts go free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fishes that tipple in the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Know no such liberty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When, (like committed linnets), I<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With shriller throat shall sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweetness, mercy, majesty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glories of my King;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I shall voice aloud how good<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is, how great should be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enlargéd winds, that curl the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Know no such liberty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stone walls do not a prison make,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor iron bars a cage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Minds innocent and quiet take<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That for an hermitage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I have freedom in my love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in my soul am free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angels alone, that soar above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enjoy such liberty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Colonel Lovelace</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXXVIII" id="CXXVIII"></a>CXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO LUCASTA, GOING BEYOND THE SEAS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">If to be absent were to be<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Away from thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or that when I am gone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">You or I were alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, my Lucasta, might I crave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pity from blustering wind, or swallowing wave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But I'll not sigh one blast or gale<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To swell my sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or pay a tear to 'suage<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The foaming blue-god's rage;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For whether he will let me pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or no, I'm still as happy as I was.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Though seas and land betwixt us both,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Our faith and troth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like separated souls,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All time and space controls:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above the highest sphere we meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unseen, unknown, and greet as Angels greet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So then we do anticipate<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Our after-fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And are alive i' the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If thus our lips and eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can speak like spirits unconfined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Colonel Lovelace</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXIX" id="CXXIX"></a>CXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>ENCOURAGEMENTS TO A LOVER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why so pale and wan, fond lover?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prythee, why so pale?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will, if looking well can't move her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Looking ill prevail?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prithee, why so pale?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why so dull and mute, young sinner?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prythee, why so mute?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will, when speaking well can't win her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saying nothing do't?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prythee, why so mute?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This cannot take her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If of herself she will not love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nothing can make her:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The D—l take her!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir J. Suckling</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXX" id="CXXX"></a>CXXX</h2> + +<h2><i>A SUPPLICATION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Awake, awake, my Lyre!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell thy silent master's humble tale<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In sounds that may prevail;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though so exalted she<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I so lowly be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Hark, how the strings awake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, though the moving hand approach not near,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Themselves with awful fear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A kind of numerous trembling make.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now all thy forces try;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now all thy charms apply;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Weak Lyre! thy virtue sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is useless here, since thou art only found<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To cure, but not to wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she to wound, but not to cure.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Too weak too wilt thou prove<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My passion to remove;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Physic to other ills, thou'rt nourishment to Love.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou canst never tell my humble tale<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In sounds that will prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All thy vain mirth lay by,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bid thy strings silent lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre, and let thy master die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Cowley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXXI" id="CXXXI"></a>CXXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE MANLY HEART</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I, wasting in despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die because a woman's fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or make pale my cheeks with care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause another's rosy are?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be she fairer than the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the flowery meads in May—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If she think not well of me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What care I how fair she be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall my silly heart be pined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause I see a woman kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a well disposed nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joinéd with a lovely feature?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be she meeker, kinder, than<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turtle-dove or pelican,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If she be not so to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What care I how kind she be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall a woman's virtues move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me to perish for her love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or her well-deservings known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make me quite forget mine own?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be she with, that goodness blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which may merit name of Best;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If she be not such to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What care I how good she be?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Cause her fortune seems too high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I play the fool and die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She that bears a noble mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If not outward helps she find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinks what with them he would do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who without them dares her woo;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And unless that mind I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What care I how great she be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great or good, or kind or fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will ne'er the more despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she love me, this believe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will die ere she shall grieve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she slight me when I woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can scorn and let her go;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For if she be not for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What care I for whom she be?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>G. Wither</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXXII" id="CXXXII"></a>CXXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>MELANCHOLY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hence, all you vain delights,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As short as are the nights<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein you spend your folly:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's nought in this life sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If man were wise to see't,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But only melancholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O sweetest Melancholy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welcome, folded arms, and fixéd eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh that piercing mortifies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A look that's fasten'd to the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tongue chain'd up without a sound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fountain-heads and pathless groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Places which pale passion loves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moonlight walks, when all the fowls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are warmly housed save bats and owls!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A midnight bell, a parting groan!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are the sounds we feed upon;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Fletcher</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CXXXIII" id="CXXXIII"></a>CXXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>FORSAKEN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O waly waly up the bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And waly waly down the brae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waly waly yon burn-side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where I and my Love wont to gae!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I leant my back unto an aik,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought it was a trusty tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae my true Love did lichtly me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O waly waly, but love be bonny<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little time while it is new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fades awa' like morning dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O wherefore should I busk my head?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or wherefore should I kame my hair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my true Love has me forsook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And says he'll never loe me mair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sheets shall ne'er be prest by me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saint Anton's well sall be my drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since my true Love has forsaken me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shake the green leaves aff the tree?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gentle Death, when wilt thou come?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For of my life I am wearíe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But my Love's heart grown cauld to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we came in by Glasgow town<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We were a comely sight to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Love was clad in the black velvét,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I mysell in cramasie.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But had I wist, before I kist,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That love had been sae ill to win;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pinn'd it with a siller pin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, O! if my young babe were born,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And set upon the nurse's knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I mysell were dead and gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the green grass growing over me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXXIV" id="CXXXIV"></a>CXXXIV</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon my lap my sovereign sits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sucks upon my breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meantime his love maintains my life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gives my sense her rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing lullaby, my little boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing lullaby, mine only joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When thou hast taken thy repast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repose, my babe, on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So may thy mother and thy nurse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy cradle also be.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing lullaby, my little boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing lullaby, mine only joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I grieve that duty doth not work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that my wishing would,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because I would not be to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the best I should.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing lullaby, my little boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing lullaby, mine only joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet as I am, and as I may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must and will be thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though all too little for thy self<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vouchsafing to be mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing lullaby, my little boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing lullaby, mine only joy!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXXXV" id="CXXXV"></a>CXXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>FAIR HELEN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish I were where Helen lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night and day on me she cries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O that I were where Helen lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Curst be the heart that thought the thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And curst the hand that fired the shot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in my arms burd Helen dropt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And died to succour me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O think na but my heart was sair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I laid her down wi' meikle care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As I went down the water-side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None but my foe to be my guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None but my foe to be my guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lighted down my sword to draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hackéd him in pieces sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hackéd him in pieces sma',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For her sake that died for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Helen fair, beyond compare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll make a garland of thy hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bind my heart for evermair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until the day I die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O that I were where Helen lies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night and day on me she cries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of my bed she bids me rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Says, 'Haste and come to me!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I were with thee, I were blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thou lies low and takes thy rest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish my grave were growing green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I in Helen's arms lying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish I were where Helen lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night and day on me she cries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am weary of the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since my Love died for me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXXVI" id="CXXXVI"></a>CXXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE TWA CORBIES</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As I was walking all alane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard twa corbies making a mane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tane unto the t'other say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Where sall we gang and dine today?'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'—In behint yon auld fail dyke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wot there lies a new-slain Knight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And naebody kens that he lies there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'His hound is to the hunting gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lady's ta'en another mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we may mak our dinner sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll pick out his bonnie blue een:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mony a one for him makes mane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nane sall ken where he is gane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er his white banes, when they are bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind sall blaw for evermair.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXXXVII" id="CXXXVII"></a>CXXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>ON THE DEATH OF MR. WILLIAM HERVEY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was a dismal and a fearful night,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce could the Morn drive on th' unwilling light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sleep, death's image, left my troubled breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By something liker death possest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyes with tears did uncommanded flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And on my soul hung the dull weight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of some intolerable fate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What bell was that? Ah me! Too much I know!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My sweet companion, and my gentle peer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy end for ever, and my life, to moan?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O thou hast left me all alone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul and body, when death's agony<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Besieged around thy noble heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Did not with more reluctance part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I, my dearest friend, do part from thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ye not seen us walking every day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was there a tree about which did not know<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The love betwixt us two?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or your sad branches thicker join,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And into darksome shades combine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark as the grave wherein my friend is laid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Large was his soul; as large a soul as e'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Submitted to inform a body here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High as the place 'twas shortly in Heaven to have,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But low and humble as his grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high that all the virtues there did come<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As to the chiefest seat<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Conspicuous, and great;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So low that for me too it made a room.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if for him knowledge had rather sought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor did more learning ever crowded lie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In such a short mortality.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er the skilful youth discoursed or writ,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Still did the notions throng<br /></span> +<span class="i4">About his eloquent tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor could his ink flow faster than his wit.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet never did his God or friends forget.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when deep talk and wisdom came in view,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Retired, and gave to them their due.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the rich help of books he always took,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though his own searching mind before<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Was so with notions written o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if wise Nature had made that her book.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With as much zeal, devotion, piety,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He always lived, as other saints do die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still with his soul severe account he kept,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Weeping all debts out ere he slept.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then down in peace and innocence he lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like the sun's laborious light,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which still in water sets at night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsullied with his journey of the day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Cowley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXXVIII" id="CXXXVIII"></a>CXXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>FRIENDS IN PARADISE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They are all gone into the world of light!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I alone sit lingering here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their very memory is fair and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And my sad thoughts doth clear:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like stars upon some gloomy grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">After the sun's remove.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see them walking in an air of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose light doth trample on my days:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mere glimmering and decays.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O holy Hope! and high Humility,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">High as the heavens above!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To kindle my cold love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shining no where, but in the dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Could man outlook that mark!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At first sight, if the bird be flown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what fair well or grove he sings in now,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That is to him unknown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Call to the soul, when man doth sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And into glory peep.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>H. Vaughan</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXXXIX" id="CXXXIX"></a>CXXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>TO BLOSSOMS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why do ye fall so fast?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your date is not so past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you may stay yet here awhile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To blush and gently smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And go at last.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What, were ye born to be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An hour or half's delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And so to bid good-night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Merely to show your worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And lose you quite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But you are lovely leaves, where we<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May read how soon things have<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their end, though ne'er so brave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after they have shown their pride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like you, awhile, they glide<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Into the grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Herrick</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXL" id="CXL"></a>CXL</h2> + +<h2><i>TO DAFFODILS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Daffodils, we weep to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You haste away so soon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As yet the early-rising Sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has not attain'd his noon.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Stay, stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until the hasting day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Has run<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But to the even-song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, having pray'd together, we<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will go with you along.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have short time to stay, as you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We have as short a Spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As quick a growth to meet decay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As you, or any thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As your hours do, and dry<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like to the Summer's rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or as the pearls of morning's dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er to be found again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Herrick</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXLI" id="CXLI"></a>CXLI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE GIRL DESCRIBES HER FAWN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With sweetest milk and sugar first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I it at my own fingers nursed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as it grew, so every day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It wax'd more white and sweet than they—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It had so sweet a breath! and oft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I blush'd to see its foot more soft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And white,—shall I say,—than my hand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, any lady's of the land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is a wondrous thing how fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas on those little silver feet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what a pretty skipping grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It oft would challenge me the race:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when 't had left me far away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twould stay, and run again, and stay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it was nimbler much than hinds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trod as if on the four winds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have a garden of my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But so with roses overgrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lilies, that you would it guess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be a little wilderness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the spring-time of the year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It only lovéd to be there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the beds of lilies I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have sought it oft, where it should lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet could not, till itself would rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find it, although before mine eyes:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in the flaxen lilies' shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It like a bank of lilies laid.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the roses it would feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until its lips e'en seem'd to bleed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then to me 'twould boldly trip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And print those roses on my lip.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all its chief delight was still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On roses thus itself to fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its pure virgin limbs to fold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whitest sheets of lilies cold:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had it lived long, it would have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lilies without—roses within.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Marvell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXLII" id="CXLII"></a>CXLII</h2> + +<h2><i>THOUGHTS IN A GARDEN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How vainly men themselves amaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win the palm, the oak, or bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their uncessant labours see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown'd from some single herb or tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose short and narrow-vergéd shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does prudently their toils upbraid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the flowers and trees do close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To weave the garlands of Repose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Innocence thy sister dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mistaken long, I sought you then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In busy companies of men:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your sacred plants, if here below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only among the plants will grow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Society is all but rude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To this delicious solitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No white nor red was ever seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So amorous as this lovely green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cut in these trees their mistress' name:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little, alas, they know or heed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How far these beauties hers exceed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair trees! wheres'e'er your barks I wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No name shall but your own be found.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When we have run our passions' heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love hither makes his best retreat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods, who mortal beauty chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still in a tree did end their race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo hunted Daphne so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only that she might laurel grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Pan did after Syrinx speed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not as a nymph, but for a reed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What wondrous life is this I lead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ripe apples drop about my head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The luscious clusters of the vine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my mouth do crush their wine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nectarine and curious peach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into my hands themselves do reach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stumbling on melons, as I pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withdraws into its happiness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mind, that ocean where each kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does straight its own resemblance find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet it creates, transcending these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far other worlds, and other seas;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Annihilating all that's made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a green thought in a green shade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here at the fountain's sliding foot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Casting the body's vest aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul into the boughs does glide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, like a bird, it sits and sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then whets and claps its silver wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, till prepared for longer flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waves in its plumes the various light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such was that happy Garden-state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While man there walk'd without a mate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After a place so pure and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What other help could yet be meet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 'twas beyond a mortal's share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wander solitary there:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span><span class="i0">Two paradises 'twere in one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live in Paradise alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How well the skilful gardener drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flowers and herbs this dial new!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, from above, the milder sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does through a fragrant zodiac run:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as it works, th' industrious bee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Computes its time as well as we.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How could such sweet and wholesome hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be reckon'd, but with herbs and flowers!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Marvell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXLIII" id="CXLIII"></a>CXLIII</h2> + +<h2><i>FORTUNATI NIMIUM</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jack and Joan, they think no ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But loving live, and merry still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do their week-day's work, and pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devoutly on the holy-day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skip and trip it on the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And help to choose the Summer Queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lash out at a country feast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their silver penny with the best.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well can they judge of nappy ale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell at large a winter tale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climb up to the apple loft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn the crabs till they be soft.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tib is all the father's joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little Tom the mother's boy:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All their pleasure is, Content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And care, to pay their yearly rent.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Joan can call by name her cows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deck her windows with green boughs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She can wreaths and tutties make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trim with plums a bridal cake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jack knows what brings gain or loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his long flail can stoutly toss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes the hedge which others break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever thinks what he doth speak.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Now, you courtly dames and knights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That study only strange delights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though you scorn the homespun gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And revel in your rich array;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though your tongues dissemble deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And can your heads from danger keep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, for all your pomp and train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Securer lives the silly swain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campion</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXLIV" id="CXLIV"></a>CXLIV</h2> + +<h2><i>L'ALLEGRO</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hence, loathéd Melancholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Stygian cave forlorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find out some uncouth cell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the night-raven sings;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ragged as thy locks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">But come, thou Goddess fair and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In heaven yclept Euphrosyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And by men, heart-easing Mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whom lovely Venus at a birth<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With two sister Graces more<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To ivy-crownéd Bacchus bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or whether (as some sager sing)<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The frolic wind that breathes the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Zephyr, with Aurora playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As he met her once a-Maying—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There on beds of violets blue<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fill'd her with thee, a daughter fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So buxom, blithe, and debonair.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Jest, and youthful jollity,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nods, and becks, and wreathéd smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And love to live in dimple sleek;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sport that wrinkled Care derides,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And Laughter holding both his sides:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come, and trip it as you go<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the light fantastic toe;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And in thy right hand lead with thee<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And if I give thee honour due<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mirth, admit me of thy crew,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To live with her, and live with thee<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In unreprovéd pleasures free;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To hear the lark begin his flight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And singing startle the dull night<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From his watch-tower in the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till the dappled dawn doth rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then to come, in spite of sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And at my window bid good-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the sweetbriar, or the vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or the twisted eglantine:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the cock with lively din<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Scatters the rear of darkness thin,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And to the stack, or the barn-door,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Stoutly struts his dames before:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oft listening how the hounds and horn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the side of some hoar hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the high wood echoing shrill:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sometime walking, not unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Right against the eastern gate<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where the great Sun begins his state<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Robed in flames and amber light,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The clouds in thousand liveries dight;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the ploughman, near at hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the milkmaid singeth blithe,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the mower whets his scythe,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span><span class="i4">And every shepherd tells his tale<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Under the hawthorn in the dale.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whilst the landscape round it measures;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Russet lawns, and fallows gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where the nibbling flocks do stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mountains, on whose barren breast<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The labouring clouds do often rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Meadows trim with daisies pied,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shallow brooks, and rivers wide;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Towers and battlements it sees<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bosom'd high in tufted trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where perhaps some Beauty lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From betwixt two aged oaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Are at their savoury dinner set<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of herbs, and other country messes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And then in haste her bower she leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With Thestylis to bind the sheaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or, if the earlier season lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the tann'd haycock in the mead.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sometimes with secure delight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The upland hamlets will invite,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the merry bells ring round,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the jocund rebecks sound<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To many a youth and many a maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dancing in the chequer'd shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And young and old come forth to play<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On a sunshine holyday,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till the live-long day-light fail:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With stories told of many a feat,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How Faery Mab the junkets eat:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">She was pinch'd, and pull'd, she said;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he, by Friar's lantern led;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To earn his cream-bowl duly set,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span><span class="i4">That ten day-labourers could not end;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then lies him down the lubber fiend,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Basks at the fire his hairy strength;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And crop-full out of doors he flings,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ere the first cock his matin rings.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By whispering winds soon lull'd asleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Tower'd cities please us then<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the busy hum of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where throngs of knights and barons bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With store of ladies, whose bright eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rain influence, and judge the prize<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of wit or arms, while both contend<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To win her grace, whom all commend.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There let Hymen oft appear<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In saffron robe, with taper clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And pomp, and feast, and revelry,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With mask, and antique pageantry;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Such sights as youthful poets dream<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On summer eves by haunted stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then to the well-trod stage anon,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If Jonson's learned sock be on,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Warble his native wood-notes wild.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And ever against eating cares<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lap me in soft Lydian airs<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Married to immortal verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Such as the meeting soul may pierce<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In notes, with many a winding bout<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of linkéd sweetness long drawn out,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With wanton heed and giddy cunning,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The melting voice through mazes running,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Untwisting all the chains that tie<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The hidden soul of harmony;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That Orpheus' self may heave his head<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From golden slumber, on a bed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Such strains as would have won the ear<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of Pluto, to have quite set free<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His half-regain'd Eurydice.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span><span class="i4">These delights if thou canst give,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mirth, with thee I mean to live.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXLV" id="CXLV"></a>CXLV</h2> + +<h2><i>IL PENSEROSO</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hence, vain deluding Joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The brood of Folly without father bred!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How little you bestead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or fill the fixéd mind with all your toys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell in some idle brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thick and numberless<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the gay motes that people the sunbeams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or likest hovering dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">But hail, thou goddess sage and holy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hail, divinest Melancholy!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose saintly visage is too bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hit the sense of human sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And therefore to our weaker view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Black, but such as in esteem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prince Memnon's sister might beseem,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To set her beauty's praise above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet thou art higher far descended:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To solitary Saturn bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His daughter she; in Saturn's reign<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such mixture was not held a stain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft in glimmering bowers and glades<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He met her, and in secret shades<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of woody Ida's inmost grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While yet there was no fear of Jove.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sober, steadfast, and demure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All in a robe of darkest grain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flowing with majestic train,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sable stole of Cipres lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over thy decent shoulders drawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, but keep thy wonted state,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With even step, and musing gait,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And looks commercing with the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There, held in holy passion still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forget thyself to marble, till<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a sad leaden downward cast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou fix them on the earth as fast:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hears the Muses in a ring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aye round about Jove's altar sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And add to these retired Leisure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That in trim gardens takes his pleasure:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But first and chiefest, with thee bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Him that yon soars on golden wing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Guiding the fiery-wheeléd throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cherub Contemplatión;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the mute Silence hist along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Less Philomel will deign a song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In her sweetest saddest plight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smoothing the rugged brow of Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gently o'er the accustom'd oak.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Most musical, most melancholy!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I woo, to hear thy even-song;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And missing thee, I walk unseen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the dry smooth-shaven green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To behold the wandering Moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Riding near her highest noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like one that had been led astray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the heaven's wide pathless way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oft, as if her head she bow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stooping through a fleecy cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Oft, on a plat of rising ground<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear the far-off Curfeu sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over some wide-water'd shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swinging slow with sullen roar:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or, if the air will not permit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some still removéd place will fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where glowing embers through the room<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Teach light to counterfeit a gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far from all resort of mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save the cricket on the hearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the bellman's drowsy charm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To bless the doors from nightly harm.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or let my lamp at midnight hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be seen in some high lonely tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where I may oft out-watch the Bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spirit of Plato, to unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What worlds or what vast regions hold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The immortal mind, that hath forsook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her mansion in this fleshly nook:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of those demons that are found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In fire, air, flood, or under ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose power hath a true consent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With planet, or with element.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In scepter'd pall come sweeping by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the tale of Troy divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or what (though rare) of later age<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But, O sad Virgin, that thy power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might raise Musaeus from his bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such notes as, warbled to the string,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And made Hell grant what Love did seek!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or call up him that left half-told<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The story of Cambuscan bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Camball, and of Algarsife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And who had Canacé to wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That own'd the virtuous ring and glass;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of the wondrous horse of brass<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span><span class="i2">On which the Tartar king did ride:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And if aught else great bards beside<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In sage and solemn tunes have sung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of turneys, and of trophies hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of forests, and enchantments drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where more is meant than meets the ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till civil-suited Morn appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not trick'd and frounced as she was wont<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the Attic Boy to hunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But kercheft in a comely cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While rocking winds are piping loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or usher'd with a shower still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the gust hath blown his fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ending on the rustling leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With minute drops from off the eaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when the sun begins to fling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To archéd walks of twilight groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of pine, or monumental oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the rude axe, with heavéd stroke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was never heard the nymphs to daunt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There in close covert by some brook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where no profaner eye may look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hide me from day's garish eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the bee with honey'd thigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That at her flowery work doth sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the waters murmuring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With such consort as they keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let some strange mysterious dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wave at his wings in airy stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lively portraiture display'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Softly on my eyelids laid:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, as I wake, sweet music breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above, about, or underneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sent by some Spirit to mortals good,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the unseen Genius of the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But let my due feet never fail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To walk the studious cloister's pale,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span><span class="i2">And love the high-embowéd roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With antique pillars massy proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And storied windows richly dight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Casting a dim religious light.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There let the pealing organ blow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the full-voiced quire below<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In service high and anthems clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As may with sweetness, through mine ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dissolve me into ecstasies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And may at last my weary age<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Find out the peaceful hermitage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hairy gown and mossy cell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where I may sit and rightly spell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of every star that heaven doth shew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every herb that sips the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till old experience do attain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To something like prophetic strain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">These pleasures, Melancholy, give,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I with thee will choose to live.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXLVI" id="CXLVI"></a>CXLVI</h2> + +<h2><i>SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BERMUDA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the remote Bermudas ride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the ocean's bosom unespied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From a small boat that row'd along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The listening winds received this song.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'What should we do but sing His praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That led us through the watery maze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lift the deep upon their backs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto an isle so long unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet far kinder than our own?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lands us on a grassy stage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave us this eternal Spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which here enamels everything,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span><span class="i0">And sends the fowls to us in care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On daily visits through the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hangs in shades the orange bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like golden lamps in a green night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And does in the pomegranates close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jewels more rich than Ormus shows:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He makes the figs our mouths to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And throws the melons at our feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But apples plants of such a price,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tree could ever bear them twice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cedars chosen by His hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Lebanon He stores the land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes the hollow seas that roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaim the ambergris on shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cast (of which we rather boast)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gospel's pearl upon our coast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in these rocks for us did frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A temple where to sound His name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! let our voice His praise exalt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till it arrive at Heaven's vault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thence (perhaps) rebounding may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Echo beyond the Mexique bay!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Thus sung they in the English boat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A holy and a cheerful note:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the way, to guide their chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With falling oars they kept the time.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Marvell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXLVII" id="CXLVII"></a>CXLVII</h2> + +<h2><i>AT A SOLEMN MUSIC</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to our high-raised phantasy present<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That undisturbéd Song of pure concent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To Him that sits thereon,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With saintly shout and solemn jubilee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bright Seraphim in burning row<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Cherubic host in thousand quires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hymns devout and holy psalms<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Singing everlastingly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we on Earth, with undiscording voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May rightly answer that melodious noise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As once we did, till disproportion'd sin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broke the fair music that all creatures made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In perfect diapason, whilst they stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In first obedience, and their state of good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O may we soon again renew that Song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To His celestial consort us unite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Milton</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXLVIII" id="CXLVIII"></a>CXLVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>NOX NOCTI INDICAT SCIENTIAM</i>.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When I survey the bright<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Celestial sphere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rich with jewels hung, that night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth like an Ethiop bride appear;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">My soul her wings doth spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And heaven-ward flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Almighty's mysteries to read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the large volumes of the skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">For the bright firmament<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shoots forth no flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So silent, but is eloquent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In speaking the Creator's name.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">No unregarded star<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Contracts its light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into so small a character,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Removed far from our human sight,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But if we steadfast look,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We shall discern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In it as in some holy book,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How man may heavenly knowledge learn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">It tells the Conqueror,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That far-stretch'd power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which his proud dangers traffic for,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is but the triumph of an hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">That from the farthest North<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Some nation may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet undiscover'd issue forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er his new-got conquest sway.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Some nation yet shut in<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With hills of ice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May be let out to scourge his sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till they shall equal him in vice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And then they likewise shall<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Their ruin have;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as yourselves your Empires fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every Kingdom hath a grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thus those celestial fires,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though seeming mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fallacy of our desires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the pride of life, confute.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">For they have watch'd since first<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The World had birth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And found sin in itself accursed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nothing permanent on earth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Habington</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXLIX" id="CXLIX"></a>CXLIX</h2> + +<h2><i>HYMN TO DARKNESS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hail thou most sacred venerable thing!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What Muse is worthy thee to sing?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thee, from whose pregnant universal womb<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All things, ev'n Light, thy rival, first did come.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What dares he not attempt that sings of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou first and greatest mystery?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who can the secrets of thy essence tell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, like the light of God, art inaccessible.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Before great Love this monument did raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This ample theatre of praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Before the folding circles of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Were tuned by Him, Who is all harmony;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Before the morning Stars their hymn began,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Before the council held for man,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Before the birth of either time or place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou reign'st unquestion'd monarch in the empty space.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Thy native lot thou didst to Light resign,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But still half of the globe is thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Here with a quiet, but yet awful hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like the best emperors thou dost command.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To thee the stars above their brightness owe,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And mortals their repose below:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To thy protection fear and sorrow flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those that weary are of light, find rest in thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Norris of Bemerton</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CL" id="CL"></a>CL</h2> + +<h2><i>A VISION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw Eternity the other night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a great ring of pure and endless light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All calm, as it was bright:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Driven by the spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a vast shadow moved; in which the World<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all her train were hurl'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>H. Vaughan</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLI" id="CLI"></a>CLI</h2> + +<h2><i>ALEXANDER'S FEAST, OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By Philip's warlike son—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Aloft in awful state<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The godlike hero sate<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On his imperial throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His valiant peers were placed around,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(So should desert in arms be crown'd);<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The lovely Thais by his side<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sate like a blooming Eastern bride<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In flower of youth and beauty's pride:—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Happy, happy, happy pair!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">None but the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i4">None but the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i4">None but the brave deserves the fair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Timotheus placed on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the tuneful quire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trembling notes ascend the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heavenly joys inspire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The song began from Jove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who left his blissful seats above—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span><span class="i0">Such is the power of mighty love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dragon's fiery form belied the god;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sublime on radiant spires he rode<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he to fair Olympia prest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while he sought her snowy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then round her slender waist he curl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The listening crowd admire the lofty sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A present deity! they shout around:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ravish'd ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monarch hears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assumes the god;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affects to nod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seems to shake the spheres.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The jolly god in triumph comes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sound the trumpets, beat the drums!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flush'd with a purple grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shows his honest face:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bacchus, ever fair and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drinking joys did first ordain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich the treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet the pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet is pleasure after pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fought all his battles o'er again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The master saw the madness rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while he Heaven and Earth defied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed his hand and check'd his pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He chose a mournful Muse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft pity to infuse:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span><span class="i0">He sung Darius great and good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By too severe a fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fallen from his high estate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weltering in his blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserted at his utmost need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By those his former bounty fed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the bare earth exposed he lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With not a friend to close his eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revolving in his alter'd soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The various turns of Chance below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now and then a sigh he stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tears began to flow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The mighty master smiled to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That love was in the next degree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas but a kindred-sound to move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For pity melts the mind to love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softly sweet, in Lydian measures<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">War, he sung, is toil and trouble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honour but an empty bubble;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never ending, still beginning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fighting still, and still destroying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the world be worth thy winning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think, O think, it worth enjoying:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovely Thais sits beside thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take the good the gods provide thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The many rend the skies with loud applause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prince, unable to conceal his pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazed on the fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who caused his care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length with love and wine at once opprest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now strike the golden lyre again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A louder yet, and yet a louder strain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break his bands of sleep asunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span><span class="i0">Hark, hark! the horrid sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has raised up his head:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As awaked from the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And amazed he stares around.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the Furies arise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the snakes that they rear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they hiss in their hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold a ghastly band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each a torch in his hand!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And unburied remain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inglorious on the plain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give the vengeance due<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the valiant crew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold how they toss their torches on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they point to the Persian abodes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glittering temples of their hostile gods.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The princes applaud with a furious joy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thais led the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To light him to his prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like another Helen, fired another Troy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">—Thus, long ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While organs yet were mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Timotheus, to his breathing flute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sounding lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last divine Cecilia came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inventress of the vocal frame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enlarged the former narrow bounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And added length to solemn sounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Let old Timotheus yield the prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or both divide the crown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He raised a mortal to the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She drew an angel down!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Dryden</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> +<h2>The Golden Treasury</h2> + +<h2><a name="BOOK_III" id="BOOK_III"></a>Book Third</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CLII" id="CLII"></a>CLII</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the golden Morn aloft<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waves her dew-bespangled wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With vermeil cheek and whisper soft<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She woos the tardy Spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till April starts, and calls around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sleeping fragrance from the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lightly o'er the living scene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">New-born flocks, in rustic dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frisking ply their feeble feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgetful of their wintry trance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The birds his presence greet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But chief, the sky-lark warbles high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His trembling thrilling ecstasy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lessening from the dazzled sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melts into air and liquid light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yesterday the sullen year<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mute was the music of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The herd stood drooping by:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their raptures now that wildly flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No yesterday nor morrow know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis Man alone that joy descries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With forward and reverted eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Smiles on past misfortune's brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soft reflection's hand can trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A melancholy grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While hope prolongs our happier hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or deepest shades, that dimly lour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blacken round our weary way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gilds with a gleam of distant day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still, where rosy pleasure leads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See a kindred grief pursue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind the steps that misery treads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Approaching comfort view:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hues of bliss more brightly glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chastised by sabler tints of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blended form, with artful strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strength and harmony of life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See the wretch that long has tost<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the thorny bed of pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length repair his vigour lost<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And breathe and walk again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meanest floweret of the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The simplest note that swells the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The common sun, the air, the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him are opening Paradise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Gray</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLIII" id="CLIII"></a>CLIII</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE TO SIMPLICITY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O Thou, by Nature taught<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To breathe her genuine thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who first, on mountains wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Fancy, loveliest child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thou, who with hermit heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disdain'st the wealth of art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But com'st, a decent maid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Attic robe array'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">By all the honey'd store<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Hybla's thymy shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all her blooms and mingled murmurs dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By her whose love-lorn woe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In evening musings slow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">By old Cephisus deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who spread his wavy sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In warbled wanderings round thy green retreat;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On whose enamell'd side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When holy Freedom died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No equal haunt allured thy future feet:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O sister meek of Truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To my admiring youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sober aid and native charms infuse!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flowers that sweetest breathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though Beauty cull'd the wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">While Rome could none esteem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Virtue's patriot theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You loved her hills, and led her laureat band;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But stay'd to sing alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To one distinguish'd throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">No more, in hall or bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Passions own thy power;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, only Love, her forceless numbers mean:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thou hast left her shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor olive more, nor vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Though taste, though genius, bless<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To some divine excess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What each, what all supply<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May court, may charm our eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Of these let others ask<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To aid some mighty task;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span><span class="i0">I only seek to find thy temperate vale;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where oft my reed might sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To maids and shepherds round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all thy sons, O Nature! learn my tale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Collins</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLIV" id="CLIV"></a>CLIV</h2> + +<h2><i>SOLITUDE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy the man, whose wish and care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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="i0">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="i0">Together mixt, sweet recreation,<br /></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="i0">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> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Pope</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLV" id="CLV"></a>CLV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE BLIND BOY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O say what is that thing call'd Light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which I must ne'er enjoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are the blessings of the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O tell your poor blind boy!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You talk of wondrous things you see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You say the sun shines bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel him warm, but how can he<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or make it day or night?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My day or night myself I make<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whene'er I sleep or play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could I ever keep awake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With me 'twere always day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With heavy sighs I often hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You mourn my hapless woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sure with patience I can bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A loss I ne'er can know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let not what I cannot have<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My cheer of mind destroy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although a poor blind boy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>C. Cibber</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLVI" id="CLVI"></a>CLVI</h2> + +<h2><i>ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas on a lofty vase's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where China's gayest art had dyed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The azure flowers that blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Demurest of the tabby kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pensive Selima, reclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazed on the lake below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her conscious tail her joy declared:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fair round face, the snowy beard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The velvet of her paws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her coat that with the tortoise vies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw, and purr'd applause.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two angel forms were seen to glide,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span><span class="i0">The Genii of the stream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through richest purple, to the view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betray'd a golden gleam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A whisker first, and then a claw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many an ardent wish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What female heart can gold despise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Cat's averse to fish?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Presumptuous maid! with looks intent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again she stretch'd, again she bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor knew the gulf between—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Malignant Fate sat by and smiled—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slippery verge her feet beguiled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tumbled headlong in!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eight times emerging from the flood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She mew'd to every watery God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some speedy aid to send:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A favourite has no friend!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From hence, ye Beauties! undeceived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know one false step is ne'er retrieved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be with caution bold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not all that tempts your wandering eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heedless hearts, is lawful prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor all that glisters, gold!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Gray</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLVII" id="CLVII"></a>CLVII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO CHARLOTTE PULTENEY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Timely blossom, Infant fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fondling of a happy pair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every morn and every night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their solicitous delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeping, waking, still at ease,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span><span class="i0">Pleasing, without skill to please;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little gossip, blithe and hale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tattling many a broken tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing many a tuneless song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lavish of a heedless tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simple maiden, void of art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Babbling out the very heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet abandon'd to thy will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet imagining no ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet too innocent to blush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the linnet in the bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the mother-linnet's note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moduling her slender throat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chirping forth thy petty joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wanton in the change of toys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the linnet green, in May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flitting to each bloomy spray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wearied then and glad of rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the linnet in the nest:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This thy present happy lot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, in time will be forgot:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Other pleasures, other cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever-busy Time prepares;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thou shalt in thy daughter see,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This picture, once, resembled thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Philips</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLVIII" id="CLVIII"></a>CLVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>RULE BRITANNIA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Britain first at Heaven's command<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arose from out the azure main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This was the charter of her land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And guardian angels sung the strain:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Britons never shall be slaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The nations not so blest as thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must in their turn to tyrants fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst thou shalt flourish great and free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dread and envy of them all.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still more majestic shalt thou rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More dreadful from each foreign stroke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the loud blast that tears the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Serves but to root thy native oak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All their attempts to bend thee down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will but arouse thy generous flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And work their woe and thy renown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To thee belongs the rural reign;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy cities shall with commerce shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All thine shall be the subject main,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every shore it circles thine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Muses, still with Freedom found,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall to thy happy coast repair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blest Isle, with matchless beauty crown'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And manly hearts to guard the fair:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Britons never shall be slaves!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Thomson</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLIX" id="CLIX"></a>CLIX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE BARD</i></h2> + +<p class="p1"><i>Pindaric Ode</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">'Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Confusion on thy banners wait;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They mock the air with idle state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He wound with toilsome march his long array:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span><span class="i2">'To arms!', cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">On a rock, whose haughty brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Robed in the sable garb of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With haggard eyes the Poet stood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Loose his beard and hoary hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a master's hand and prophet's fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Hark, how each giant-oak and desert-cave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That hush'd the stormy main:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mountains, ye mourn in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Modred, whose magic song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On dreary Arvon's shore they lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smear'd with gore and ghastly pale:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye died amidst your dying country's cries—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more I weep; They do not sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see them sit; They linger yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Avengers of their native land:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me in dreadful harmony they join,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Weave the warp and weave the woof</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The winding sheet of Edward's race:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Give ample room and verge enough</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The characters of hell to trace.</i><br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span><span class="i0"><i>Mark the year, and mark the night,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>When Severn shall re-echo with affright</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The shrieks of death thro' Berkley's roof that ring,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Shrieks of an agonizing king!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The scourge of heaven! What terrors round him wait!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Amazement in his van, with flight combined,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>'Mighty victor, mighty lord,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Low on his funeral couch he lies!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>No pitying heart, no eye, afford</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>A tear to grace his obsequies.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Is the sable warrior fled?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The swarm that in thy noon-tide beam were born?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>—Gone to salute the rising morn.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>While proudly riding o'er the azure realm</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>'Fill high the sparkling bowl,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The rich repast prepare;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Close by the regal chair</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Fell Thirst and Famine scowl</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>A baleful smile upon their baffled guest,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Heard ye the din of battle bray,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Lance to lance, and horse to horse?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Long years of havock urge their destined course,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With many afoul and midnight murder fed,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And spare the meek usurpers holy head!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Above, below, the rose of snow,</i><br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span><span class="i2"><i>Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The bristled boar in infant-gore</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Wallows beneath the thorny shade.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Now, brothers, bending o'er the accurséd loom,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>'Edward, lo! to sudden fate</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>(Weave we the woof; The thread is spun;)</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Half of thy heart we consecrate.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>(The web is wove; The work is done.)</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In yon bright track that fires the western skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They melt, they vanish from my eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All hail, ye genuine kings! Britannia's issue, hail!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Girt with many a baron bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sublime their starry fronts they rear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bearded majesty, appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the midst a form divine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What strings symphonious tremble in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What strains of vocal transport round her play?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colour'd wings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The verse adorn again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fierce war, and faithful love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In buskin'd measures move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale grief, and pleasing pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice as of the cherub-choir<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span><span class="i2">Gales from blooming Eden bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And distant warblings lessen on my ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lost in long futurity expire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow he repairs the golden flood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And warms the nations with redoubled ray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough for me: with joy I see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The different doom our fates assign:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be thine despair and sceptred care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To triumph and to die are mine,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Gray</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLX" id="CLX"></a>CLX</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE WRITTEN IN 1746</i></h2> + +<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 blest!<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 awhile repair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dwell a weeping hermit there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Collins</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXI" id="CLXI"></a>CLXI</h2> + +<h2><i>LAMENT FOR CULLODEN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lovely lass o' Inverness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For e'en and morn she cries, Alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aye the saut tear blins her ee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drumossie moor—Drumossie day—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span><span class="i0">A waefu' day it was to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there I lost my father dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father dear, and brethren three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their graves are growing green to see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by them lies the dearest lad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever blest a woman's ee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bluidy man I trow thou be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mony a heart thou hast made sair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXII" id="CLXII"></a>CLXII</h2> + +<h2><i>LAMENT FOR FLODDEN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lasses a' lilting before dawn o' day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At bughts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae daffin', nae gabbin', but sighing and sabbing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Flowers of the Forest are weded away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the Border!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The English, for ance, by guile wan the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll hear nae mair lilting at the ewe-milking;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Women and bairns are heartless and wae;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Elliott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXIII" id="CLXIII"></a>CLXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE BRAES OF YARROW</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first on them I met my lover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When now thy waves his body cover!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever now, O Yarrow stream!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art to me a stream of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For never on thy banks shall I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold my Love, the flower of Yarrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He promised me a milk-white steed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bear me to his father's bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He promised me a little page<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To squire me to his father's towers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He promised me a wedding-ring,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wedding-day was fix'd to-morrow;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now he is wedded to his grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, his watery grave, in Yarrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet were his words when last we met;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My passion I as freely told him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasp'd in his arms, I little thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I should never more behold him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice did the water-wraith ascend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave a doleful groan thro' Yarrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His mother from the window look'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the longing of a mother;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His little sister weeping walk'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The greenwood path to meet her brother;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sought him east, they sought him west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sought him all the forest thorough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They only saw the cloud of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They only heard the roar of Yarrow.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No longer from thy window look—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast no son, thou tender mother!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer walk, thou lovely maid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, thou hast no more a brother!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer seek him east or west<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And search no more the forest thorough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, wandering in the night so dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tear shall never leave my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other youth shall be my marrow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll seek thy body in the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The tear did never leave her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other youth became her marrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She found his body in the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Logan</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXIV" id="CLXIV"></a>CLXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>WILLY DROWNED IN YARROW</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down in yon garden sweet and gay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where bonnie grows the lily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a fair maid sighing say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'My wish be wi' sweet Willie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Willie's rare, and Willie's fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Willie's wondrous bonny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Willie hecht to marry me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gin e'er he married ony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O gentle wind, that bloweth south,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From where my Love repaireth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tell me how he fareth!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O tell sweet Willie to come doun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hear the mavis singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the birds on ilka bush<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leaves around them hinging.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The lav'rock there, wi' her white breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gentle throat sae narrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's sport eneuch for gentlemen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Leader haughs and Yarrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O Leader haughs are wide and braid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Yarrow haughs are bonny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Willie hecht to marry me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If e'er he married ony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'But Willie's gone, whom I thought on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And does not hear me weeping;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draws many a tear frae true love's e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When other maids are sleeping.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The night I'll mak' it narrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' the live-lang winter night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I lie twined o' my marrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O came ye by yon water-side?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pou'd you the rose or lily?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or came you by yon meadow green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or saw you my sweet Willie?'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She sought him up, she sought him down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She sought him braid and narrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syne, in the cleaving of a craig,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She found him drown'd in Yarrow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXV" id="CLXV"></a>CLXV</h2> + +<h2><i>LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Toll for the Brave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brave that are no more!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All sunk beneath the wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast by their native shore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eight hundred of the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose courage well was tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had made the vessel heel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laid her on her side.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A land-breeze shook the shrouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she was overset;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down went the Royal George,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all her crew complete.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Toll for the brave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave Kempenfelt is gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His last sea-fight is fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His work of glory done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was not in the battle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tempest gave the shock;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sprang no fatal leak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She ran upon no rock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His sword was in its sheath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fingers held the pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Kempenfelt went down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With twice four hundred men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Weigh the vessel up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once dreaded by our foes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mingle with our cup<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tears that England owes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her timbers yet are sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she may float again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full charged with England's thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plough the distant main:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Kempenfelt is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His victories are o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he and his eight hundred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall plough the wave no more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Cowper</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXVI" id="CLXVI"></a>CLXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>BLACK-EYED SUSAN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The streamers waving in the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When black-eyed Susan came aboard;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'O! where shall I my true-love find?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If my sweet William sails among the crew.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">William, who high upon the yard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rock'd with the billow to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon as her well-known voice he heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So the sweet lark, high poised in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shuts close his pinions to his breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drops at once into her nest:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noblest captain in the British fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My vows shall ever true remain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me kiss off that falling tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We only part to meet again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The faithful compass that still points to thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Believe not what the landmen say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In every port a mistress find:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Thou art present wheresoe'er I go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'If to fair India's coast we sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy skin is ivory so white.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus every beauteous object that I view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Though battle call me from thy arms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let not my pretty Susan mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">William shall to his Dear return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The boatswain gave the dreadful word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sails their swelling bosom spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer must she stay aboard;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span><span class="i2">They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Adieu!' she cries; and waved her lily hand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Gay</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXVII" id="CLXVII"></a>CLXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>SALLY IN OUR ALLEY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of all the girls that are so smart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's none like pretty Sally;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no lady in the land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is half so sweet as Sally;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her father he makes cabbage-nets<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And through the streets does cry 'em;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mother she sells laces long<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To such as please to buy 'em:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sure such folks could ne'er beget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So sweet a girl as Sally!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When she is by, I leave my work,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I love her so sincerely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My master comes like any Turk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bangs me most severely—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let him bang his bellyful,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll bear it all for Sally;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of all the days that's in the week<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dearly love but one day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that's the day that comes betwixt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Saturday and Monday;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then I'm drest all in my best<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To walk abroad with Sally;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My master carries me to church,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And often am I blamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because I leave him in the lurch<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As soon as text is named;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I leave the church in sermon-time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And slink away to Sally;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Christmas comes about again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O then I shall have money;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll hoard it up, and box it all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll give it to my honey:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would it were ten thousand pound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd give it all to Sally;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My master and the neighbours all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make game of me and Sally,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, but for her, I'd better be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A slave and row a galley;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when my seven long years are out<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O then I'll marry Sally,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed...<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not in our alley!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>H. Carey</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXVIII" id="CLXVIII"></a>CLXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>A FAREWELL</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' fill it in a silver tassie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I may drink before I go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A service to my bonnie lassie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ship rides by the Berwick-law,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I maun leave my bonnie Mary.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The trumpets sound, the banners fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glittering spears are rankéd ready;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shouts o' war are heard afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The battle closes thick and bloody;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it's not the roar o' sea or shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wad make me langer wish to tarry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shout o' war that's heard afar—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXIX" id="CLXIX"></a>CLXIX</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If doughty deeds my lady please<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Right soon I'll mount my steed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strong his arm, and fast his seat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bears frae me the meed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll wear thy colours in my cap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy picture at my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he that bends not to thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall rue it to his smart!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O tell me how to woo thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Tho' ne'er another trow me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If gay attire delight thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll dight me in array;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll tend thy chamber door all night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And squire thee all the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If sweetest sounds can win thine ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These sounds I'll strive to catch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy voice I'll steal to woo thysell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That voice that nane can match.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But if fond love thy heart can gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I never broke a vow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nae maiden lays her skaith to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I never loved but you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For you alone I ride the ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For you I wear the blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For you alone I strive to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O tell me how to woo!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O tell me how to woo thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tho' ne'er another trow me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Graham of Gartmore</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXX" id="CLXX"></a>CLXX</h2> + +<h2><i>TO A YOUNG LADY</i></h2> + +<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 destined 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 watery glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven reflected in her face.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Cowper</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXI" id="CLXXI"></a>CLXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE SLEEPING BEAUTY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho' shut so close thy laughing eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rosy lips still wear a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And move, and breathe delicious sighs!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mantle o'er her neck of snow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What most I wish—and fear to know!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She starts, she trembles, and she weeps!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fair hands folded on her breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—And now, how like a saint she sleeps!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A seraph in the realms of rest!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep on secure! Above controul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may the secret of thy soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remain within its sanctuary!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>S. Rogers</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXII" id="CLXXII"></a>CLXXII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An unrelenting foe to Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when we meet a mutual heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come in between, and bid us part?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bid us sigh on from day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wish and wish the soul away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till youth and genial years are flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the life of life is gone?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But busy, busy, still art thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bind the loveless joyless vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart from pleasure to delude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To join the gentle to the rude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I absolve thy future care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All other blessings I resign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make but the dear Amanda mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Thomson</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXIII" id="CLXXIII"></a>CLXXIII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The merchant, to secure his treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conveys it in a borrow'd name:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Euphelia serves to grace my measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Cloe is my real flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My softest verse, my darling lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon Euphelia's toilet lay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Cloe noted her desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I should sing, that I should play.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with my numbers mix my sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Cloe blush'd: Euphelia frown'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sung, and gazed; I play'd, and trembled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Venus to the Loves around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remark'd how ill we all dissembled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>M. Prior</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXIV" id="CLXXIV"></a>CLXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>LOVE'S SECRET</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never seek to tell thy love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love that never told can be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the gentle wind doth move<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Silently, invisibly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I told my love, I told my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I told her all my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! she did depart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon after she was gone from me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A traveller came by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silently, invisibly:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He took her with a sigh.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Blake</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXV" id="CLXXV"></a>CLXXV</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When lovely woman stoops to folly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finds too late that men betray,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What charm can soothe her melancholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What art can wash her guilt away?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The only art her guilt to cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hide her shame from every eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give repentance to her lover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wring his bosom, is—to die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>O. Goldsmith</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CLXXVI" id="CLXXVI"></a>CLXXVI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How can ye blume sae fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can ye chant, ye little birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I sae fu' o' care!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sings upon the bough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou minds me o' the happy days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When my fause Luve was true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sings beside thy mate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sae I sat, and sae I sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wist na o' my fate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To see the woodbine twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ilka bird sang o' its love;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sae did I o' mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frae aff its thorny tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my fause luver staw the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But left the thorn wi' me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXVII" id="CLXXVII"></a>CLXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE PROGRESS OF POESY</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><b><i>A Pindaric Ode</i></b></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give to rapture all thy trembling strings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Helicon's harmonious springs<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A thousand rills their mazy progress take;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laughing flowers that round them blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drink life and fragrance as they flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the rich stream of music winds along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span><span class="i0">Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now rolling down the steep amain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Headlong, impetuous, see it pour:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the roar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And frantic Passions hear thy soft controul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Thracia's hills the Lord of War<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has curb'd the fury of his car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perching on the sceptred hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thee the voice, the dance, obey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Temper'd to thy warbled lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Idalia's velvet-green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rosy-crownéd Loves are seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Cytherea's day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frisking light in frolic measures;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now pursuing, now retreating,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now in circling troops they meet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To brisk notes in cadence beating<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glance their many-twinkling feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With arms sublime that float upon the air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In gliding state she wins her easy way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Man's feeble race what ills await!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fond complaint, my song, disprove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And justify the laws of Jove.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span><span class="i0">Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night, and all her sickly dews,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gives to range the dreary sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till down the eastern cliffs afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">In climes beyond the solar road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Muse has broke the twilight gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cheer the shivering native's dull abode.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft, beneath the odorous shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Chili's boundless forests laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In loose numbers wildly sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her track, where'er the goddess roves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glory pursue, and generous Shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Isles, that crown th' Aegean deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fields that cool Ilissus laves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where Maeander's amber waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lingering labyrinths creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How do your tuneful echoes languish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mute, but to the voice of anguish!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where each old poetic mountain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inspiration breathed around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every shade and hallow'd fountain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Murmur'd deep a solemn sound:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Latium had her lofty spirit lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sought, oh Albion! next, thy sea-encircled coast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Far from the sun and summer-gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What time, where lucid Avon stray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To him the mighty Mother did unveil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her awful face: the dauntless child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span><span class="i0">'This pencil take' (she said), 'whose colours clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Richly paint the vernal year:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This can unlock the gates of joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of horror that, and thrilling fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Nor second He, that rode sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the seraph-wings of Extasy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The secrets of the abyss to spy:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where angels tremble while they gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He saw; but blasted with excess of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed his eyes in endless night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wide o'er the fields of glory bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two coursers of ethereal race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark, his hands the lyre explore!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatters from her pictured urn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ah! 'tis heard no more—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! lyre divine, what daring spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakes thee now? Tho' he inherit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the Theban eagle bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sailing with supreme dominion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thro' the azure deep of air:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet oft before his infant eyes would run<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the Good how far—but far above the Great.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Gray</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CLXXVIII" id="CLXXVIII"></a>CLXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE PASSIONS</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><b><i>An Ode for Music</i></b></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Music, heavenly maid, was young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While yet in early Greece she sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Passions oft, to hear her shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throng'd around her magic cell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possest beyond the Muse's painting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By turns they felt the glowing mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disturb'd, delighted, raised, refined:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the supporting myrtles round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They snatch'd her instruments of sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as they oft had heard apart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet lessons of her forceful art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each (for Madness ruled the hour)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would prove his own expressive power.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">First Fear his hand, its skill to try,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And back recoil'd, he knew not why,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en at the sound himself had made.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In lightnings, own'd his secret stings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one rude clash he struck the lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And swept with hurried hand the strings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With woeful measures wan Despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Low sullen sounds, his grief beguiled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A solemn, strange, and mingled air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What was thy delighted measure?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still it whisper'd promised pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still would her touch the strain prolong;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from the rocks, the woods, the vale<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span><span class="i0">She call'd on Echo still through all the song;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, where her sweetest theme she chose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A soft responsive voice was heard at every close;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And longer had she sung:—but with a frown<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Revenge impatient rose:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And with a withering look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The war-denouncing trumpet took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blew a blast so loud and dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And ever and anon he beat<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The doubling drum with furious heat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dejected Pity at his side<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her soul-subduing voice applied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sad proof of thy distressful state!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With eyes up-raised, as one inspired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale Melancholy sat retired;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her wild sequester'd seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In notes by distance made more sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And dashing soft from rocks around<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bubbling runnels join'd the sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Round an holy calm diffusing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Love of peace, and lonely musing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In hollow murmurs died away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But O! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span><span class="i2">Her bow across her shoulder flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The oak-crown'd Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peeping from forth their alleys green:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last came Joy's ecstatic trial:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, with viny crown advancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First to the lively pipe his hand addrest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They would have thought who heard the strain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Amidst the festal-sounding shades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some unwearied minstrel dancing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he, amidst his frolic play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if he would the charming air repay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Music! sphere-descended maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, goddess! why, to us denied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in that loved Athenian bower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You learn'd an all-commanding power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy mimic soul, O Nymph endear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can well recall what then it heard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is thy native simple heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arise, as in that elder time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm, energic, chaste, sublime!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy wonders, in that god-like age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill thy recording Sister's page;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis said, and I believe the tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy humblest reed could more prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span><span class="i0">Had more of strength, diviner rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all which charms this laggard age:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en all at once together found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cecilia's mingled world of sound:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O bid our vain endeavours cease:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revive the just designs of Greece:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return in all thy simple state!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confirm the tales her sons relate!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Collins</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXIX" id="CLXXIX"></a>CLXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE SONG OF DAVID</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sang of God, the mighty source<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all things, the stupendous force<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On which all strength depends:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Whose right arm, beneath Whose eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All period, power, and enterprise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Commences, reigns, and ends.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world, the clustering spheres He made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glorious light, the soothing shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dale, champaign, grove and hill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The multitudinous abyss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where secrecy remains in bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wisdom hides her skill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell them, I AM, Jehovah said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Moses: while Earth heard in dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, smitten to the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once, above, beneath, around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All Nature, without voice or sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Replied, 'O Lord, THOU ART.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>C. Smart</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CLXXX" id="CLXXX"></a>CLXXX</h2> + +<h2><i>INFANT JOY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I have no name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am but two days old.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—What shall I call thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'I happy am;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy is my name.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Sweet joy befall thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pretty joy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet joy, but two days old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet joy I call thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou dost smile:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sing the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet joy befall thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Blake</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXXI" id="CLXXXI"></a>CLXXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>A CRADLE SONG</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming in the joys of night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little sorrows sit and weep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet babe, in thy face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft desires I can trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Secret joys and secret smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little pretty infant wiles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As thy softest limbs I feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles as of the morning steal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thy little heart doth rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh the cunning wiles that creep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy little heart asleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy little heart doth wake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the dreadful light shall break.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Blake</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CLXXXII" id="CLXXXII"></a>CLXXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE ON THE SPRING</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Venus' train, appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disclose the long-expecting flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wake the purple year!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Attic warbler pours her throat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Responsive to the cuckoo's note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The untaught harmony of Spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, whispering pleasure as they fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their gather'd fragrance fling.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A broader, browner shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er-canopies the glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside some water's rushy brink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me the Muse shall sit, and think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(At ease reclined in rustic state)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How vain the ardour of the crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How low, how little are the proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How indigent the great!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still is the toiling hand of Care;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The panting herds repose:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The busy murmur glows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The insect-youth are on the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eager to taste the honied spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And float amid the liquid noon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some lightly o'er the current skim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some show their gaily-gilded trim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quick-glancing to the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To Contemplation's sober eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such is the race of Man:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they that creep, and they that<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall end where they began.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike the Busy and the Gay<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span><span class="i0">But flutter thro' life's little day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Fortune's varying colours drest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They leave, in dust to rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Methinks I hear in accents low<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sportive kind reply:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor moralist! and what art thou?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A solitary fly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy joys no glittering female meets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No painted plumage to display:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On hasty wings thy youth is flown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We frolic while 'tis May.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Gray</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXXIII" id="CLXXXIII"></a>CLXXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE POPLAR FIELD</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now in the grass behold they are laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blackbird has fled to another retreat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the scene where his melody charm'd me before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My fugitive years are all hasting away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The change both my heart and my fancy employs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures, we see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Cowper</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXXIV" id="CLXXXIV"></a>CLXXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>TO A MOUSE</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>On turning her up in her nest, with the plough,<br /> +November, 1785</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O what a panic's in thy breastie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou need na start awa sae hasty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' bickering brattle!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' murd'ring pattle!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm truly sorry man's dominion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has broken Nature's social union,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' justifies that ill opinion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes thee startle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At me, thy poor earth-born companion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' fellow-mortal!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A daimen-icker in a thrave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'S a sma' request:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never miss't!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its silly wa's the win's are strewin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And naething, now, to big a new ane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' foggage green!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' bleak December's winds ensuin'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baith snell an' keen!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' weary winter comin' fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' cozie here, beneath the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou thought to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, crash! the cruel coulter past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out thro' thy cell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But house or hald,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thole the winter's sleety dribble<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' cranreuch cauld!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In proving foresight may be vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best laid schemes o mice an' men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gang aft a-gley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For promised joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The present only toucheth thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, Och! I backward cast my e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On prospects drear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' forward, tho' I canna see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I guess an' fear!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXXV" id="CLXXXV"></a>CLXXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>A WISH</i></h2> + +<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> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></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> + +<p class="p1"><i>S. Rogers</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXXVI" id="CLXXXVI"></a>CLXXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE TO EVENING</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May hope, O pensive Eve, to soothe thine ear<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like thy own solemn springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy springs, and dying gales;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Nymph reserved,—while now the bright-hair'd sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With brede ethereal wove,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'erhang his wavy bed;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or where the beetle winds<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His small but sullen horn,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As oft he rises midst the twilight path,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now teach me, maid composed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To breathe some soften'd strain<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May not unseemly with its stillness suit;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As, musing slow, I hail<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy genial loved return.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For when thy folding-star arising shows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His paly circlet, at his warning lamp<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The fragrant Hours, and Elves<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who slept in buds the day,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The pensive Pleasures sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Prepare thy shadowy car.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or find some ruin midst its dreary dells,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose walls more awful nod<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By thy religious gleams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or, if chill blustering winds or driving rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That, from the mountain's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Views wilds, and swelling floods,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hears their simple bell; and marks o'er all<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy dewy fingers draw<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The gradual dusky veil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While Summer loves to sport<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Beneath thy lingering light;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Affrights thy shrinking train<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And rudely rends thy robes;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy gentlest influence own,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And love thy favourite name!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Collins</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CLXXXVII" id="CLXXXVII"></a>CLXXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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="i0">And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moping owl does to the moon complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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="i0">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="i0">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="i0">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="i0">Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The short and simple annals of the poor.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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="i0">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="i0">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="i0">Or flattery 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="i0">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="i0">Or waked to extasy the living lyre:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But knowledge to their eyes her ample page<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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="i0">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="i0">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="i0">The little tyrant of his fields withstood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Th' applause of listening senates to command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">And read their history in a nation's eyes<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forbad to wade thro' slaughter to a throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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="i0">They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some frail memorial still erected nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">The place of fame and elegy supply:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a holy text around she strews,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That teach the rustic moralist to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On some fond breast the parting soul relies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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="i0">Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If chance, by lonely contemplation led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">'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="i0">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="i0">That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pore upon the brook that babbles by.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or crazed 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="i0">Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another came; nor yet beside the rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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="i0">Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">THE EPITAPH</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here rests his head upon the lap of earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">And melancholy mark'd him for her own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven did a recompense as largely send:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave to misery (all he had) a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gain'd from Heaven ('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="i0">Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bosom of his Father and his God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Gray</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXXVIII" id="CLXXXVIII"></a>CLXXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>MARY MORISON</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Mary, at thy window be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those smiles and glances let me see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That make the miser's treasure poor:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How blithely wad I bide the stoure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A weary slave frae sun to sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could I the rich reward secure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely Mary Morison.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yestreen when to the trembling string<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee my fancy took its wing,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sat, but neither heard nor saw:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">I sigh'd, and said amang them a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Ye are na Mary Morison.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wha for thy sake wad gladly dee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or canst thou break that heart of his,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whase only faut is loving thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love for love thou wilt na gie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least be pity to me shown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thought ungentle canna be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought o' Mary Morison.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CLXXXIX" id="CLXXXIX"></a>CLXXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>BONNIE LESLEY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O saw ye bonnie Lesley<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As she gaed o'er the border?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's gane, like Alexander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To spread her conquests farther.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To see her is to love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And love but her for ever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Nature made her what she is,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ne'er made sic anither!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou art a queen, Fair Lesley,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy subjects we, before thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art divine, Fair Lesley,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hearts o' men adore thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Deil he could na scaith thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or aught that wad belang thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'd look into thy bonnie face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And say 'I canna wrang thee!'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Powers aboon will tent thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Misfortune sha' na steer thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Return again, Fair Lesley,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Return to Caledonie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we may brag we hae a lass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's nane again sae bonnie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXC" id="CXC"></a>CXC</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O my Luve's like a red, red rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's newly sprung in June:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O my Luve's like the melodie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's sweetly play'd in tune.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So deep in luve am I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will luve thee still, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till a' the seas gang dry:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rocks melt wi' the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will luve thee still, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the sands o' life shall run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And fare thee weel, my only Luve!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fare thee weel awhile!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will come again, my Luve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tho' it were ten thousand mile.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXCI" id="CXCI"></a>CXCI</h2> + +<h2><i>HIGHLAND MARY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye banks and braes and streams around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The castle o' Montgomery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your waters never drumlie!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span><span class="i0">There simmer first unfauld her robes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there the langest tarry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there I took the last fareweel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O' my sweet Highland Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How rich the hawthorn's blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As underneath their fragrant shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I clasp'd her to my bosom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden hours on angel wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flew o'er me and my dearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For dear to me as light and life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was my sweet Highland Mary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our parting was fu' tender;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pledging aft to meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We tore oursels asunder;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, Oh! fell Death's untimely frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That nipt my flower sae early!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wraps my Highland Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And closed for aye the sparkling glance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dwelt on me sae kindly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mouldering now in silent dust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That heart that lo'ed me dearly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still within my bosom's core<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall live my Highland Mary.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXCII" id="CXCII"></a>CXCII</h2> + +<h2><i>AULD ROBIN GRAY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye a hame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a' the warld to rest are gane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my gudeman lies sound by me.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But saving a croun he had naething else beside:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the croun and the pund were baith for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He hadna been awa' a week but only twa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my father brak his arm, and the cow was stown awa;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said, Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart it said nay; I look'd for Jamie back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ship it was a wrack—why didna Jamie dee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or why do I live to cry, Wae's me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father urgit sair: my mother didna speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hadna been a wife a week but only four,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he said, I'm come hame to marry thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We took but ae kiss, and I bad him gang away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why was I born to say, Wae's me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll do my best a gude wife aye to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lady A. Lindsay.</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXCIII" id="CXCIII"></a>CXCIII</h2> + +<h2><i>DUNCAN GRAY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Duncan Gray cam here to woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha, ha, the wooing o't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On blythe Yule night when we were fou,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha, ha, the wooing o't:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maggie coost her head fu' high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha, ha, the wooing o't!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spak o' lowpin ower a linn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time and chance are but a tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slighted love is sair to bide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a haughty hizzie dee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She may gae to—France for me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How it comes let doctors tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meg grew sick—as he grew well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something in her bosom wrings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For relief a sigh she brings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And O, her een, they spak sic things!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Duncan was a lad o' grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maggie's was a piteous case;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duncan couldna be her death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now they're crouse and canty baith:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha, ha, the wooing o't!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXCIV" id="CXCIV"></a>CXCIV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE SAILOR'S WIFE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And are ye sure the news is true?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And are ye sure he's weel?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this a time to think o' wark?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye jades, lay by your wheel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this the time to spin a thread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Colin's at the door?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And see him come ashore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there's nae luck about the house,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's nae luck at a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's little pleasure in the house<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our gudeman's awa'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And gie to me my bigonet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bishop's satin gown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I maun tell the baillie's wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Colin's in the town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Turkey slippers maun gae on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My stockins pearly blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's a' to pleasure our gudeman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For he's baith leal and true.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Put on the muckle pot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gie little Kate her button gown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Jock his Sunday coat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mak their shoon as black as slaes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their hose as white as snaw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's a' to please my ain gudeman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For he's been long awa.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's twa fat hens upo' the coop<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Been fed this month and mair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mak haste and thraw their necks about,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Colin weel may fare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spread the table neat and clean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gar ilka thing look braw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wha can tell how Colin fared<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he was far awa?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His breath like caller air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His very foot has music in't<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he comes up the stair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will I see his face again?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And will I hear him speak?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In troth I'm like to greet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If Colin's weel, and weel content,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hae nae mair to crave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gin I live to keep him sae,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm blest aboon the lave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will I see his face again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And will I hear him speak?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In troth I'm like to greet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there's nae luck about the house,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's nae luck at a';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's little pleasure in the house<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our gudeman's awa'.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. J. Mickle</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXCV" id="CXCV"></a>CXCV</h2> + +<h2><i>ABSENCE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I think on the happy days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I spent wi' you, my dearie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now what lands between us lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How can I be but eerie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ye were wae and weary!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was na sae ye glinted by<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I was wi' my dearie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Anon.</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CXCVI" id="CXCVI"></a>CXCVI</h2> + +<h2><i>JEAN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of a' the airts the wind can blaw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dearly like the West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there the bonnie lassie lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lassie I lo'e best:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There wild woods grow, and rivers row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mony a hill between;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But day and night my fancy's flight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is ever wi' my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see her in the dewy flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see her sweet and fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear her in the tunefu' birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear her charm the air:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a bonnie flower that springs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By fountain, shaw, or green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a bonnie bird that sings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But minds me o' my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amang the leafy trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bring hame the laden bees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bring the lassie back to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's aye sae neat and clean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ae smile o' her wad banish care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae charming is my Jean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What sighs and vows amang the knowes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hae pass'd atween us twa!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fond to meet, how wae to part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That night she gaed awa!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Powers aboon can only ken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whom the heart is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nane can be sae dear to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As my sweet lovely Jean!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CXCVII" id="CXCVII"></a>CXCVII</h2> + +<h2><i>JOHN ANDERSON</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Anderson my jo, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we were first acquent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your locks were like the raven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your bonnie brow was brent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now your brow is bald, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your locks are like the snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But blessings on your frosty pow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">John Anderson my jo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Anderson my jo, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We clamb the hill thegither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mony a canty day, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We've had wi' ane anither:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now we maun totter down, John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hand in hand we'll go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep thegither at the foot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">John Anderson my jo.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Burns</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXCVIII" id="CXCVIII"></a>CXCVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE LAND O' THE LEAL</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm wearing awa', Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like snaw when its thaw, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm wearing awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's nae sorrow there, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's neither cauld nor care, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day is aye fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye were aye leal and true, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your task's ended noo, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll welcome you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span><span class="i0">Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was baith guid and fair, Jean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O we grudged her right sair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul langs to be free, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And angels wait on me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This warld's care is vain, Jean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll meet and aye be fain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the land o' the leal.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lady Nairn</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CXCIX" id="CXCIX"></a>CXCIX</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye distant spires, ye antique towers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That crown the watery glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where grateful Science still adores<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her Henry's holy shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye, that from the stately brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wanders the hoary Thames along<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His silver-winding way:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah fields beloved in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once my careless childhood stray'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A stranger yet to pain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel the gales that from ye blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A momentary bliss bestow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As waving fresh their gladsome wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My weary soul they seem to soothe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, redolent of joy and youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To breathe a second spring.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full many a sprightly race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disporting on thy margent green<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The paths of pleasure trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who foremost now delight to cleave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pliant arm, thy glassy wave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The captive linnet which enthral?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What idle progeny succeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To chase the rolling circle's speed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or urge the flying ball?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While some on earnest business bent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their murmuring labours ply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sweeten liberty:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some bold adventurers disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The limits of their little reign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And unknown regions dare descry:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still as they run they look behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hear a voice in every wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And snatch a fearful joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Less pleasing when possest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tear forgot as soon as shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunshine of the breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild wit, invention ever new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lively cheer, of vigour born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thoughtless day, the easy night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirits pure, the slumbers light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fly th' approach of morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! regardless of their doom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little victims play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sense have they of ills to come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor care beyond to-day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet see how all around 'em wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ministers of human fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And black Misfortune's baleful train!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah show them where in ambush stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seize their prey, the murderous band!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, tell them they are men!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These shall the fury Passions tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The vultures of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Shame that sculks behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pining Love shall waste their youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Jealousy with rankling tooth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That inly gnaws the secret heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Envy wan, and faded Care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Sorrow's piercing dart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ambition this shall tempt to rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then whirl the wretch from high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bitter Scorn a sacrifice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grinning Infamy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stings of Falsehood those shall try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mocks the tear it forced to flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keen Remorse with blood defiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moody Madness laughing wild<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid severest woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo, in the vale of years beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A griesly troop are seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The painful family of Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More hideous than their queen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This racks the joints, this fires the veins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That every labouring sinew strains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those in the deeper vitals rage:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! Poverty, to fill the band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That numbs the soul with icy hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And slow-consuming Age.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To each his sufferings: all are men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Condemn'd alike to groan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender for another's pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Th' unfeeling for his own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, ah! why should they know their fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since sorrow never comes too late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And happiness too swiftly flies?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought would destroy their paradise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more;—where ignorance is bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis folly to be wise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Gray</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CC" id="CC"></a>CC</h2> + +<h2><i>THE SHRUBBERY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O happy shades! to me unblest!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Friendly to peace, but not to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How ill the scene that offers rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heart that cannot rest, agree!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This glassy stream, that spreading pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those alders quivering to the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And please, if anything could please.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But fix'd unalterable Care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Foregoes not what she feels within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows the same sadness everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And slights the season and the scene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For all that pleased in wood or lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Peace possess'd these silent bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her animating smile withdrawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has lost its beauties and its powers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The saint or moralist should tread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This moss-grown alley, musing, slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They seek like me the secret shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not, like me, to nourish woe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Me, fruitful scenes and prospects waste<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alike admonish not to roam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These tell me of enjoyments past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And those of sorrows yet to come.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Cowper</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCI" id="CCI"></a>CCI</h2> + +<h2><i>HYMN TO ADVERSITY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Daughter of Jove, relentless power,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou tamer of the human breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose iron scourge and torturing hour<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The bad affright, afflict the best!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bound in thy adamantine chain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The proud are taught to taste of pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And purple tyrants vainly groan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When first thy Sire to send on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Virtue, his darling child, design'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thee he gave the heavenly birth<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And bade to form her infant mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stern, rugged nurse! thy rigid lore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With patience many a year she bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Scared at thy frown terrific, fly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And leave us leisure to be good.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light they disperse, and with them go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The summer friend, the flattering foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By vain Prosperity received,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Wisdom in sable garb array'd<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Immersed in rapturous thought profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Melancholy, silent maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With leaden eye, that loves the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still on thy solemn steps attend:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Warm Charity, the general friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Justice, to herself severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Pity dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nor circled with the vengeful band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(As by the impious thou art seen)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With thundering voice, and threatening mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With screaming Horror's funeral cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy milder influence impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy philosophic train be there<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To soften, not to wound my heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The generous spark extinct revive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Teach me to love and to forgive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exact my own defects to scan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What others are to feel, and know myself a Man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Gray</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CCII" id="CCII"></a>CCII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE SOLITUDE OF<br /> +ALEXANDER SELKIRK</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am monarch of all I survey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My right there is none to dispute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the centre all round to the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am lord of the fowl and the brute.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Solitude! where are the charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sages have seen in thy face?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better dwell in the midst of alarms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than reign in this horrible place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am out of humanity's reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must finish my journey alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never hear the sweet music of speech;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I start at the sound of my own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beasts that roam over the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My form with indifference see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are so unacquainted with man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tameness is shocking to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Society, Friendship, and Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divinely bestow'd upon man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, had I the wings of a dove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How soon would I taste you again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sorrows I then might assuage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the ways of religion and truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might learn from the wisdom of age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye winds that have made me your sport,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convey to this desolate shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some cordial endearing report<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a land I shall visit no more:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My friends, do they now and then send<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wish or a thought after me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O tell me I yet have a friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a friend I am never to see.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How fleet is a glance of the mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compared with the speed of its flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tempest itself lags behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the swift-wingéd arrows of light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I think of my own native land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a moment I seem to be there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But alas! recollection at hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon hurries me back to despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beast is laid down in his lair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even here is a season of rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I to my cabin repair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's mercy in every place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mercy, encouraging thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives even affliction a grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reconciles man to his lot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Cowper</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCIII" id="CCIII"></a>CCIII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO MARY UNWIN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mary! I want a lyre with other strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such aid from Heaven as some have feign'd they drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And undebased by praise of meaner things,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That ere through age or woe I shed my wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may record thy worth with honour due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In verse as musical as thou art true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that immortalizes whom it sings:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou hast little need. There is a Book<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which the eyes of God not rarely look,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A chronicle of actions just and bright—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Cowper</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCIV" id="CCIV"></a>CCIV</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE SAME</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The twentieth year is well-nigh past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first our sky was overcast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah would that this might be the last!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy spirits have a fainter flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thee daily weaker grow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas my distress that brought thee low,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy needles, once a shining store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my sake restless heretofore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now rust disused, and shine no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same kind office for me still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sight now seconds not thy will,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But well thou play'dst the housewife's part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all thy threads with magic art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have wound themselves about this heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy indistinct expressions seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like language utter'd in a dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy silver locks, once auburn bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are still more lovely in my sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than golden beams of orient light,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For could I view nor them nor thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sight worth seeing could I see?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun would rise in vain for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Partakers of thy sad decline<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hands their little force resign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, gently prest, press gently mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such feebleness of limbs thou prov'st<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That now at every step thou mov'st<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upheld by two; yet still thou lov'st,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And still to love, though prest with ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wintry age to feel no chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me is to be lovely still,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah! by constant heed I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft the sadness that I show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And should my future lot be cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With much resemblance of the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy worn-out heart will break at last—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Mary!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Cowper</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCV" id="CCV"></a>CCV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE CASTAWAY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Obscurest night involved the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Atlantic billows roar'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When such a destined wretch as I,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wash'd headlong from on board,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His floating home for ever left.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No braver chief could Albion boast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than he with whom he went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever ship left Albion's coast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With warmer wishes sent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loved them both, but both in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor him beheld, nor her again.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not long beneath the whelming brine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Expert to swim, he lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor soon he felt his strength decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or courage die away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But waged with death a lasting strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Supported by despair of life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To check the vessel's course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But so the furious blast prevail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, pitiless perforce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They left their outcast mate behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scudded still before the wind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some succour yet they could afford;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And such as storms allow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cask, the coop, the floated cord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Delay'd not to bestow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er they gave, should visit more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their haste himself condemn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aware that flight, in such a sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alone could rescue them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet bitter felt it still to die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserted, and his friends so nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He long survives, who lives an hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In ocean, self-upheld;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so long he, with unspent power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His destiny repell'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever, as the minutes flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entreated help, or cried 'Adieu!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At length, his transient respite past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His comrades, who before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had heard his voice in every blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could catch the sound no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then, by toil subdued, he drank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stifling wave, and then he sank.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No poet wept him; but the page<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of narrative sincere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells his name, his worth, his age,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is wet with Anson's tear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tears by bards or heroes shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike immortalize the dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I therefore purpose not, or dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Descanting on his fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give the melancholy theme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A more enduring date:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But misery still delights to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its semblance in another's case.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No voice divine the storm allay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No light propitious shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We perish'd, each alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I beneath a rougher sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Cowper</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCVI" id="CCVI"></a>CCVI</h2> + +<h2><i>TOMORROW</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May my fate no less fortunate be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a snug elbow-chair will afford for reclining,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While I carol away idle sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look forward with hope for Tomorrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the sunshine or rain may prevail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a barn for the use of the flail:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a purse when a friend wants to borrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll envy no Nabob his riches or fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or what honours may wait him Tomorrow.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the bleak northern blast may my cot be completely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Secured by a neighbouring hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the sound of a murmuring rill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while peace and plenty I find at my board,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a heart free from sickness and sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my friends may I share what Today may afford,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let them spread the table Tomorrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when I at last must throw off this frail cov'ring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which I've worn for three-score years and ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hov'ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this old worn-out stuff, which is threadbare Today,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May become Everlasting Tomorrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Collins</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCVII" id="CCVII"></a>CCVII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Life! we've been long together<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis hard to part when friends are dear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Then steal away, give little warning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Choose thine own time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say not Good Night,—but in some brighter clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bid me Good Morning.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. L. Barbauld</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BOOK_IV" id="BOOK_IV"></a>The Golden Treasury</h2> + +<h2>Book Fourth</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CCVIII" id="CCVIII"></a>CCVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE MUSES</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whether on Ida's shady brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or in the chambers of the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chambers of the sun, that now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From ancient melody have ceased;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whether in Heaven ye wander fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the green corners of the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the blue regions of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the melodious winds have birth;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whether on crystal rocks ye rove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the bosom of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wandering in many a coral grove,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How have you left the ancient love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bards of old enjoy'd in you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The languid strings do scarcely move,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sound is forced, the notes are few.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Blake</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCIX" id="CCIX"></a>CCIX</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE ON THE POETS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bards of Passion and of Mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye have left your souls on earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ye souls in heaven too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Double-lived in regions new?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Yes, and those of heaven commune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the spheres of sun and moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the noise of fountains wond'rous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the parle of voices thund'rous;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the whisper of heaven's trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one another, in soft ease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seated on Elysian lawns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Browsed by none but Dian's fawns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Underneath large blue-bells tented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the daisies are rose-scented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rose herself has got<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfume which on earth is not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the nightingale doth sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a senseless, trancéd thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But divine melodious truth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Philosophic numbers smooth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tales and golden histories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heaven and its mysteries.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thus ye live on high, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the earth ye live again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the souls ye left behind you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teach us, here, the way to find you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where your other souls are joying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never slumber'd, never cloying.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, your earth-born souls still speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mortals, of their little week;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their sorrows and delights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their passions and their spites;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their glory and their shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What doth strengthen and what maim:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus ye teach us, every day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wisdom, though fled far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Bards of Passion and of Mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye have left your souls on earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye have souls in heaven too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Double-lived in regions new!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCX" id="CCX"></a>CCX</h2> + +<h2><i>ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round many western islands have I been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft of one wide expanse had I been told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet did I never breathe its pure serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Then felt I like some watcher of the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a new planet swims into his ken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He stared at the Pacific—and all his men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look'd at each other with a wild surmise—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent, upon a peak in Darien.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXI" id="CCXI"></a>CCXI</h2> + +<h2><i>LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All thoughts, all passions, all delights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever stirs this mortal frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All are but ministers of Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And feed his sacred flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft in my waking dreams do I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live o'er again that happy hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When midway on the mount I lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside the ruin'd tower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moonshine stealing o'er the scene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had blended with the lights of eve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she was there, my hope, my joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My own dear Genevieve!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She lean'd against the arméd man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The statue of the arméd knight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stood and listen'd to my lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid the lingering light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Few sorrows hath she of her own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She loves me best, whene'er I sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The songs that make her grieve.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I play'd a soft and doleful air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sang an old and moving story—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An old rude song, that suited well<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ruin wild and hoary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She listen'd with a flitting blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With downcast eyes and modest grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For well she knew, I could not choose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But gaze upon her face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I told her of the Knight that wore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon his shield a burning brand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that for ten long years he woo'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Lady of the Land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I told her how he pined: and ah!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep, the low, the pleading tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which I sang another's love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Interpreted my own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She listen'd with a flitting blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With downcast eyes, and modest grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she forgave me, that I gazed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too fondly on her face!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when I told the cruel scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that he cross'd the mountain-woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor rested day nor night;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That sometimes from the savage den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sometimes from the darksome shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sometimes starting up at once<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In green and sunny glade,—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There came and look'd him in the face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An angel beautiful and bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that he knew it was a Fiend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This miserable Knight!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And that unknowing what he did,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He leap'd amid a murderous band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saved from outrage worse than death<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Lady of the Land;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how she tended him in vain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever strove to expiate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scorn that crazed his brain;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And that she nursed him in a cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how his madness went away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on the yellow forest-leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dying man he lay;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His dying words—but when I reach'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tenderest strain of all the ditty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My faltering voice and pausing harp<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disturb'd her soul with pity!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All impulses of soul and sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had thrill'd my guileless Genevieve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music and the doleful tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rich and balmy eve;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An undistinguishable throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle wishes long subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Subdued and cherish'd long!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She wept with pity and delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She blush'd with love, and virgin shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like the murmur of a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard her breathe my name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her bosom heaved—she stepp'd aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As conscious of my look she stept—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then suddenly, with timorous eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She fled to me and wept.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She half inclosed me with her arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She press'd me with a meek embrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bending back her head, look'd up,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gazed upon my face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas partly love, and partly fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And partly 'twas a bashful art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might rather feel, than see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The swelling of her heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And told her love with virgin pride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I won my Genevieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My bright and beauteous Bride.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>S. T. Coleridge</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXII" id="CCXII"></a>CCXII</h2> + +<h2><i>ALL FOR LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O talk not to me of a name great in story;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The days of our youth are the days of our glory;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then away with all such from the head that is hoary—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh Fame!—if I e'er took delight in thy praises,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lord Byron</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXIII" id="CCXIII"></a>CCXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE OUTLAW</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Brignall banks are wild and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Greta woods are green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you may gather garlands there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would grace a summer-queen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as I rode by Dalton-Hall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the turrets high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Maiden on the castle-wall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was singing merrily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'O Brignall banks are fresh and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Greta woods are green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd rather rove with Edmund there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than reign our English queen.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To leave both tower and town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou first must guess what life lead we<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dwell by dale and down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if thou canst that riddle read,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As read full well you may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As blithe as Queen of May.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Greta woods are green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd rather rove with Edmund there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than reign our English queen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I read you, by your bugle-horn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And by your palfrey good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read you for a ranger sworn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To keep the king's greenwood.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'A Ranger, lady, winds his horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And 'tis at peep of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His blast is heard at merry morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mine at dead of night.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Greta woods are gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would I were with Edmund there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To reign his Queen of May!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'With burnish'd brand and musketoon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So gallantly you come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read you for a bold Dragoon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lists the tuck of drum.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'I list no more the tuck of drum,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No more the trumpet hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the beetle sounds his hum<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My comrades take the spear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And O! though Brignall banks be fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Greta woods be gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet mickle must the maiden dare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would reign my Queen of May!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A nameless death I'll die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fiend whose lantern lights the mead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were better mate than I!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I'm with my comrades met<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the greenwood bough,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What once we were we all forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor think what we are now.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Chorus</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Greta woods are green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you may gather garlands there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would grace a summer-queen.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXIV" id="CCXIV"></a>CCXIV</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There be none of Beauty's daughters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a magic like Thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like music on the waters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is thy sweet voice to me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, as if its sound were causing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charmed ocean's pausing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waves lie still and gleaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lull'd winds seem dreaming:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the midnight moon is weaving<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her bright chain o'er the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose breast is gently heaving<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As an infant's asleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the spirit bows before thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To listen and adore thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a full but soft emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the swell of Summer's ocean.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lord Byron</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXV" id="CCXV"></a>CCXV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE INDIAN SERENADE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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="i0">The wandering airs they faint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the dark, the silent stream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The champak 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 die on thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O belovéd as thou art!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh 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 close to thine again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where it will break at last.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXVI" id="CCXVI"></a>CCXVI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She walks in beauty, like the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cloudless climes and starry skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that's best of dark and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet in her aspect and her eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus mellow'd to that tender light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which heaven to gaudy day denies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One shade the more, one ray the less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had half impair'd the nameless grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which waves in every raven tress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or softly lightens o'er her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thoughts serenely sweet express<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And on that cheek and o'er that brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smiles that win, the tints that glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tell of days in goodness spent,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mind at peace with all below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heart whose love is innocent.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lord Byron</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXVII" id="CCXVII"></a>CCXVII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was a Phantom of delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first she gleam'd 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="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 waylay.<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="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></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="i0">A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd<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 an angel-light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXVIII" id="CCXVIII"></a>CCXVIII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is not fair to outward view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As many maidens be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her loveliness I never knew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until she smiled on me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O then I saw her eye was bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A well of love, a spring of light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now her looks are coy and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mine they ne'er reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet I cease not to behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love-light in her eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her very frowns are fairer far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than smiles of other maidens are.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>H. Coleridge</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXIX" id="CCXIX"></a>CCXIX</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou needest not fear mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit is too deeply laden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever to burthen thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou needest not fear mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Innocent is the heart's devotion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which I worship thine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXX" id="CCXX"></a>CCXX</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She dwelt among the untrodden ways<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside the springs of Dove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A maid whom there were none to praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And very few to love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A violet by a mossy stone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half-hidden from the eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Fair as a star, when only one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">When Lucy ceased to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she is in her grave, and, oh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The difference to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXI" id="CCXXI"></a>CCXXI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I travell'd among unknown men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In lands beyond the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor, England! did I know till then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What love I bore to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis past, that melancholy dream!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor will I quit thy shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A second time; for still I seem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To love thee more and more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Among thy mountains did I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The joy of my desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she I cherish'd turn'd her wheel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside an English fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy mornings show'd, thy nights conceal'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bowers where Lucy play'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thine too is the last green field<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Lucy's eyes survey'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXII" id="CCXXII"></a>CCXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE EDUCATION OF NATURE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three years she grew in sun and shower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On earth was never sown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Child I to myself will take;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She shall be mine, and I will make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lady of my own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Myself will to my darling be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both law and impulse: and with me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The girl, in rock and plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall feel an overseeing power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kindle or restrain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'She shall be sportive as the fawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wild with glee across the lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or up the mountain springs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her's shall be the breathing balm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her's the silence and the calm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mute insensate things.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The floating clouds their state shall lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her; for her the willow bend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall she fail to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n in the motions of the storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grace that shall mould the maiden's form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By silent sympathy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The stars of midnight shall be dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her; and she shall lean her ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In many a secret place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rivulets dance their wayward round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beauty born of murmuring sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall pass into her face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And vital feelings of delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall rear her form to stately height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her virgin bosom swell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such thoughts to Lucy I will give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she and I together live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in this happy dell.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus Nature spake—The work was done—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How soon my Lucy's race was run!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She died, and left to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This heath, this calm and quiet scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The memory of what has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never more will be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXIII" id="CCXXIII"></a>CCXXIII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A slumber did my spirit seal;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I had no human fears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seem'd a thing that could not feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The touch of earthly years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No motion has she now, no force;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She neither hears nor sees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With rocks, and stones, and trees.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXXIV" id="CCXXIV"></a>CCXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>A LOST LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I meet thy pensive, moonlight face;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy thrilling voice I hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And former hours and scenes retrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too fleeting, and too dear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then sighs and tears flow fast and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though none is nigh to share;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life has nought beside for me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So sweet as this despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are crush'd hearts that will not break;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mine, methinks, is one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or thus I should not weep and wake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou to slumber gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I little thought it thus could be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In days more sad and fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That earth could have a place for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou no longer there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet death cannot our hearts divide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or make thee less my own:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than watching here alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet never, never can we part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Memory holds her reign:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till we shall meet again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>H. F. Lyte</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXV" id="CCXXV"></a>CCXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A Chieftain to the Highlands bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cries 'Boatman, do not tarry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll give thee a silver pound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To row us o'er the ferry!'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This dark and stormy water?'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And fast before her father's men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three days we've fled together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For should he find us in the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My blood would stain the heather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'His horsemen hard behind us ride—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should they our steps discover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then who will cheer my bonny bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they have slain her lover?'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'I'll go, my chief, I'm ready:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not for your silver bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for your winsome lady:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And by my word! the bonny bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In danger shall not tarry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So though the waves are raging white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll row you o'er the ferry.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By this the storm grew loud apace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The water-wraith was shrieking;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the scowl of Heaven each face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grew dark as they were speaking.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But still as wilder blew the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the night grew drearer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adown the glen rode arméd men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their trampling sounded nearer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O haste thee, haste!' the lady cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Though tempests round us gather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll meet the raging of the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not an angry father.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The boat has left a stormy land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stormy sea before her,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, oh! too strong for human hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tempest gather'd o'er her.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And still they row'd amidst the roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of waters fast prevailing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wrath was changed to wailing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His child he did discover:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one was round her lover.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Across this stormy water:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll forgive your Highland chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My daughter!—Oh, my daughter!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return or aid preventing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waters wild went o'er his child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he was left lamenting.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXVI" id="CCXXVI"></a>CCXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>LUCY GRAY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I cross'd the wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I chanced to see at break of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solitary child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She dwelt on a wide moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweetest thing that ever grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside a human door!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You yet may spy the fawn at play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hare upon the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sweet face of Lucy Gray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will never more be seen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'To-night will be a stormy night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You to the town must go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take a lantern, Child, to light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mother through the snow.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'That, Father! will I gladly do:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis scarcely afternoon—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The minster-clock has just struck two,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yonder is the moon!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At this the father raised his hook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And snapp'd a faggot-band;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He plied his work;—and Lucy took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lantern in her hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not blither is the mountain roe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a wanton stroke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her feet disperse the powdery snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rises up like smoke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The storm came on before its time:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wander'd up and down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a hill did Lucy climb:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never reach'd the town.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wretched parents all that night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went shouting far and wide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there was neither sound nor sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve them for a guide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At day-break on a hill they stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That overlook'd the moor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thence they saw the bridge of wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A furlong from their door.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They wept—and, turning homeward, cried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'In heaven we all shall meet!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—When in the snow the mother spied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The print of Lucy's feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then downwards from the steep hill's edge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They track'd the footmarks small;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the broken hawthorn hedge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by the long stone-wall:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then an open field they cross'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The marks were still the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They track'd them on, nor ever lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the bridge they came:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They follow'd from the snowy bank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those footmarks, one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the middle of the plank;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And further there were none!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Yet some maintain that to this day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is a living child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you may see sweet Lucy Gray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the lonesome wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er rough and smooth she trips along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never looks behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sings a solitary song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whistles in the wind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXVII" id="CCXXVII"></a>CCXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>JOCK OF HAZELDEAN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why weep ye by the tide?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll wed ye to my youngest son,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ye sall be his bride:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye sall be his bride, ladie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sae comely to be seen'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye she loot the tears down fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Jock of Hazeldean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Now let this wilfu' grief be done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dry that cheek so pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young Frank is chief of Errington<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lord of Langley-dale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His step is first in peaceful ha',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His sword in battle keen'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye she loot the tears down fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Jock of Hazeldean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'A chain of gold ye sall not lack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor braid to bind your hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor palfrey fresh and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span><span class="i0">And you the foremost o' them a'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall ride our forest-queen'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But aye she loot the tears down fa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Jock of Hazeldean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tapers glimmer'd fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dame and knight are there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sought her baith by bower and ha';<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ladie was not seen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's o'er the Border, and awa'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXVIII" id="CCXXVIII"></a>CCXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fountains mingle with the river<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rivers with the ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds of heaven mix for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a sweet emotion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing in the world is single,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things by a law divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one another's being mingle—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why not I with thine?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See the mountains kiss high heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the waves clasp one another;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sister-flower would be forgiven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it disdain'd its brother:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sunlight clasps the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the moonbeams kiss the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are all these kissings worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou kiss not me?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXXIX" id="CCXXIX"></a>CCXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>ECHOES</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweet the answer Echo makes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Music at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far away o'er lawns and lakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goes answering light!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet Love hath echoes truer far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far more sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of horn or lute or soft guitar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The songs repeat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis when the sigh,—in youth sincere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sigh that's breathed for one to hear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is by that one, that only Dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed back again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Moore</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXX" id="CCXXX"></a>CCXXX</h2> + +<h2><i>A SERENADE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun has left the lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The orange-flower perfumes the bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The breeze is on the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lark, his lay who thrill'd all day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sits hush'd his partner nigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But where is County Guy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The village maid steals through the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her shepherd's suit to hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Beauty shy, by lattice high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sings high-born Cavalier.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span><span class="i0">The star of Love, all stars above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now reigns o'er earth and sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And high and low the influence know—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But where is County Guy?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXXI" id="CCXXXI"></a>CCXXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE EVENING STAR</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Companion of retiring day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why at the closing gates of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved Star, dost thou delay?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So fair thy pensile beauty burns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When soft the tear of twilight flows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So due thy plighted love returns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To chambers brighter than the rose;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So kind a star thou seem'st to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure some enamour'd orb above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descends and burns to meet with thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thine is the breathing, blushing hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all unheavenly passions fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chased by the soul-subduing power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love's delicious witchery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! sacred to the fall of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Queen of propitious stars, appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And early rise, and long delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Caroline herself is here!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shine on her chosen green resort<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose trees the sunward summit crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wanton flowers, that well may court<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An angel's feet to tread them down:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shine on her sweetly scented road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou star of evening's purple dome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lead'st the nightingale abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And guid'st the pilgrim to his home.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embalms the soft exhaling dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where dying winds a sigh bequeath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kiss the cheek of rosy hue:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where, winnow'd by the gentle air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her silken tresses darkly flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fall upon her brow so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like shadows on the mountain snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus, ever thus, at day's decline<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In converse sweet to wander far—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O bring with thee my Caroline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou shalt be my Ruling Star!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXXII" id="CCXXXII"></a>CCXXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE NIGHT</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Swiftly walk over the western wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">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="i6">Swift be thy flight!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wrap thy form in a mantle gray<br /></span> +<span class="i6">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="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="i6">Come, long-sought!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I arose and saw the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">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 turn'd to his rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lingering like an unloved guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">I sigh'd for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy brother Death came, and cried<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Wouldst thou me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmur'd 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="i6">No, not thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death will come when thou art dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">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, belovéd Night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift be thine approaching flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Come soon, soon!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXXIII" id="CCXXXIII"></a>CCXXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO A DISTANT FRIEND</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of absence withers what was once so fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound to thy service with unceasing care—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mind's least generous wish a mendicant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For nought but what thy happiness could spare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Speak!—though this soft warm heart, once free to hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be left more desolate, more dreary cold<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Than a forsaken bird's-nest fill'd with snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXXXIV" id="CCXXXIV"></a>CCXXXIV</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When we two parted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In silence and tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half broken-hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sever for years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale grew thy cheek and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Colder thy kiss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truly that hour foretold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow to this!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dew of the morning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunk chill on my brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It felt like the warning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of what I feel now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy vows are all broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And light is thy fame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear thy name spoken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And share in its shame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They name thee before me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A knell to mine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shudder comes o'er me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why wert thou so dear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They know not I knew thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knew thee too well:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long, long shall I rue thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too deeply to tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In secret we met:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In silence I grieve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thy heart could forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy spirit deceive.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I should meet thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After long years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How should I greet thee?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With silence and tears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lord Byron</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXXXV" id="CCXXXV"></a>CCXXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>HAPPY INSENSIBILITY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a drear-nighted December,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too happy, happy tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy branches ne'er remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their green felicity:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The north cannot undo them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a sleety whistle through them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor frozen thawings glue them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From budding at the prime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a drear-nighted December,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too happy, happy brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy bubblings ne'er remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo's summer look;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with a sweet forgetting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stay their crystal fretting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never, never petting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About the frozen time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! would 'twere so with many<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gentle girl and boy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But were there ever any<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Writhed not at passéd joy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know the change and feel it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When there is none to heal it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor numbéd sense to steal it—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was never said in rhyme.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXXVI" id="CCXXXVI"></a>CCXXXVI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where shall the lover rest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom the fates sever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his true maiden's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Parted for ever?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span><span class="i0">Where, through groves deep and high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sounds the far billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where early violets die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under the willow.<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Eleu loro</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Soft shall be his pillow.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There through the summer day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cool streams are laving:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, while the tempests sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scarce are boughs waving;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There thy rest shalt thou take,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Parted for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never again to wake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never, O never!<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Eleu loro</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Never, O never!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where shall the traitor rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He, the deceiver,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who could win maiden's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ruin, and leave her?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the lost battle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Borne down by the flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where mingles war's rattle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With groans of the dying;<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Eleu loro</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>There shall he be lying.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her wing shall the eagle flap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the falsehearted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His warm blood the wolf shall lap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere life be parted:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shame and dishonour sit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By his grave ever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessing shall hallow it<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never, O never!<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Eleu loro</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Never, O never!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXXXVII" id="CCXXXVII"></a>CCXXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alone and palely loitering?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sedge has wither'd from the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And no birds sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So haggard and so woe-begone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The squirrel's granary is full,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the harvest's done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I see a lily on thy brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With anguish moist and fever-dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on thy cheeks a fading rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast withereth too.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I met a lady in the meads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full beautiful—a faery's child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair was long, her foot was light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And her eyes were wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I made a garland for her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She look'd at me as she did love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And made sweet moan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I set her on my pacing steed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nothing else saw all day long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sidelong would she bend, and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A faery's song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'She found me roots of relish sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And honey wild and manna-dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sure in language strange she said<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I love thee true."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'She took me to her elfin grot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there she wept and sigh'd full sore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there I shut her wild wild eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With kisses four.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And there she lulléd me asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there I dream'd—Ah! woe betide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The latest dream I ever dream'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the cold hill's side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I saw pale kings and princes too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cried—"La belle Dame sans Merci<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath thee in thrall!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I saw their starved lips in the gloam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With horrid warning gapéd wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I awoke and found me here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the cold hill's side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And this is why I sojourn here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alone and palely loitering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And no birds sing.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXXVIII" id="CCXXXVIII"></a>CCXXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE ROVER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A weary lot is thine, fair maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A weary lot is thine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And press the rue for wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A feather of the blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A doublet of the Lincoln green—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No more of me you knew<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My Love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more of me you knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'This morn is merry June, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose is budding fain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she shall bloom in winter snow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere we two meet again.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span><span class="i0">He turn'd his charger as he spake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the river shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave the bridle-reins a shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said 'Adieu for evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My Love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adieu for evermore.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXXXIX" id="CCXXXIX"></a>CCXXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE FLIGHT OF LOVE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the lamp is shatter'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light in the dust lies dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the cloud is scatter'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rainbow's glory is shed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the lute is broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet tones are remember'd not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the lips have spoken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loved accents are soon forgot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As music and splendour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Survive not the lamp and the lute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart's echoes render<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No song when the spirit is mute—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No song but sad dirges,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the wind through a ruin'd cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the mournful surges<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ring the dead seaman's knell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When hearts have once mingled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love first leaves the well-built nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weak one is singled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To endure what it once possesst.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Love! who bewailest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frailty of all things here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why choose you the frailest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For your cradle, your home, and your bier?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Its passions will rock thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the storms rock the ravens on high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright reason will mock thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the sun from a wintry sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy nest every rafter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will rot, and thine eagle home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave thee naked to laughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When leaves fall and cold winds come.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXL" id="CCXL"></a>CCXL</h2> + +<h2><i>THE MAID OF NEIDPATH</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O lovers' eyes are sharp to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lovers' ears in hearing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love, in life's extremity,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can lend an hour of cheering.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disease had been in Mary's bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And slow decay from mourning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To watch her Love's returning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All sunk and dim her eyes so bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her form decay'd by pining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till through her wasted hand, at night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You saw the taper shining.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By fits a sultry hectic hue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across her cheek was flying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By fits so ashy pale she grew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her maidens thought her dying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet keenest powers to see and hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem'd in her frame residing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the watch-dog prick'd his ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She heard her lover's riding;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere scarce a distant form was kenn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She knew and waved to greet him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the battlement did bend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As on the wing to meet him.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He came—he pass'd—an heedless gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As o'er some stranger glancing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lost in his courser's prancing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The castle-arch, whose hollow tone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Returns each whisper spoken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could scarcely catch the feeble moan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which told her heart was broken.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXLI" id="CCXLI"></a>CCXLI</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earl March look'd on his dying child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, smit with grief to view her—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youth, he cried, whom I exiled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be restored to woo her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She's at the window many an hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His coming to discover:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he look'd up to Ellen's bower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she look'd on her lover—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah! so pale, he knew her not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though her smile on him was dwelling—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And am I then forgot—forgot?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It broke the heart of Ellen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her cheek is cold as ashes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lift their silken lashes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXLII" id="CCXLII"></a>CCXLII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watching, with eternal lids apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moving waters at their priestlike task<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of snow upon the mountains and the moors:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake for ever in a sweet unrest;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so live ever,—or else swoon to death.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXLIII" id="CCXLIII"></a>CCXLIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE TERROR OF DEATH</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I have fears that I may cease to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before high-piléd books, in charact'ry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when I feel, fair Creature of an hour!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I shall never look upon thee more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never have relish in the faery power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of unreflecting love—then on the shore<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> + +<p class="p1"><i>Keats</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXLIV" id="CCXLIV"></a>CCXLIV</h2> + +<h2><i>DESIDERIA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Surprized by joy—impatient as the wind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn'd to share the transport—Oh! with whom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Thee—deep buried in the silent tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spot which no vicissitude can find?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love, faithful love recall'd thee to my mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But how could I forget thee? Through what power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even for the least division of an hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I been so beguiled as to be blind<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To my most grievous loss!—That thought's return<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That neither present time, nor years unborn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXLV" id="CCXLV"></a>CCXLV</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When our voices, commingling, breathed like one on the ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span><span class="i0">I think, oh my Love! 'tis thy voice, from the Kingdom of Souls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Moore</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXLVI" id="CCXLVI"></a>CCXLVI</h2> + +<h2><i>ELEGY ON THYRZA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou art dead, as young and fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As aught of mortal birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forms so soft and charms so rare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too soon return'd to Earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Earth received them in her bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the spot the crowd may tread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In carelessness or mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is an eye which could not brook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moment on that grave to look.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will not ask where thou liest low<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor gaze upon the spot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There flowers or weeds at will may grow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So I behold them not:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is enough for me to prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That what I loved, and long must love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like common earth can rot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me there needs no stone to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet did I love thee to the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fervently as thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who didst not change through all the past<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And canst not alter now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love where Death has set his seal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor falsehood disavow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, what were worse, thou canst not see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The better days of life were ours;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The worst can be but mine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun that cheers, the storm that lours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall never more be thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silence of that dreamless sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I envy now too much to weep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor need I to repine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all those charms have pass'd away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might have watch'd through long decay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must fall the earliest prey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though by no hand untimely snatch'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The leaves must drop away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet it were a greater grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than see it pluck'd today;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since earthly eye but ill can bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trace the change to foul from fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know not if I could have borne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To see thy beauties fade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night that follow'd such a morn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had worn a deeper shade:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy day without a cloud hath past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou wert lovely to the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Extinguish'd, not decay'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As stars that shoot along the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine brightest as they fall from high.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As once I wept, if I could weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My tears might well be shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think I was not near, to keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One vigil o'er thy bed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fold thee in a faint embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Uphold thy drooping head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And show that love, however vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor thou nor I can feel again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet how much less it were to gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though thou hast left me free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loveliest things that still remain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than thus remember thee!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span><span class="i0">The all of thine that cannot die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through dark and dread Eternity<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Returns again to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And more thy buried love endears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than aught except its living years.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lord Byron</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXLVII" id="CCXLVII"></a>CCXLVII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One word is too often profaned<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For me to profane it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One feeling too falsely disdain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thee to disdain it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One hope is too like despair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For prudence to smother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pity from thee more dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than that from another.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I can give not what men call love;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wilt thou accept not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worship the heart lifts above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the Heavens reject not:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The desire of the moth for the star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the night for the morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The devotion to something afar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the sphere of our sorrow?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXLVIII" id="CCXLVIII"></a>CCXLVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pibroch of Donuil Dhu<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pibroch of Donuil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake thy wild voice anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Summon Clan Conuil.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span><span class="i0">Come away, come away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hark to the summons!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come in your war-array,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gentles and commons.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come from deep glen, and<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From mountain so rocky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The war-pipe and pennon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are at Inverlocky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come every hill-plaid, and<br /></span> +<span class="i2">True heart that wears one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come every steel blade, and<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strong hand that bears one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave untended the herd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flock without shelter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the corpse uninterr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bride at the altar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the deer, leave the steer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leave nets and barges:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come with your fighting gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Broadswords and targes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come as the winds come, when<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forests are rended,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come as the waves come, when<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Navies are stranded:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faster come, faster come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faster and faster,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chief, vassal, page and groom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tenant and master.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fast they come, fast they come;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See how they gather!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wide waves the eagle plume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blended with heather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast your plaids, draw your blades<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forward each man set!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pibroch of Donuil Dhu<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knell for the onset!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXLIX" id="CCXLIX"></a>CCXLIX</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wet sheet and a flowing sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wind that follows fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fills the white and rustling sail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bends the gallant mast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bends the gallant mast, my boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While like the eagle free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away the good ship flies, and leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">I heard a fair one cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But give to me the snoring breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And white waves heaving high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And white waves heaving high, my lads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The good ship tight and free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world of waters is our home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And merry men are we.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's tempest in yon hornéd moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lightning in yon cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hark the music, mariners!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wind is piping loud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind is piping loud, my boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lightning flashes free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the hollow oak our palace is,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our heritage the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>A. Cunningham</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCL" id="CCL"></a>CCL</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Mariners of England<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That guard our native seas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The battle and the breeze!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your glorious standard launch again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To match another foe:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span><span class="i0">And sweep through the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the battle rages loud and long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirits of your fathers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall start from every wave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the deck it was their field of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Ocean was their grave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your manly hearts shall glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ye sweep through the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the battle rages loud and long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Britannia needs no bulwarks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No towers along the steep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her home is on the deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thunders from her native oak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She quells the floods below—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they roar on the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the stormy winds do blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the battle rages loud and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The meteor flag of England<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall yet terrific burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till danger's troubled night depart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the star of peace return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our song and feast shall flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the fame of your name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the storm has ceased to blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the fiery fight is heard no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the storm has ceased to blow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCLI" id="CCLI"></a>CCLI</h2> + +<h2><i>BATTLE OF THE BALTIC</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of Nelson and the North<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing the glorious day's renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When to battle fierce came forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the might of Denmark's crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her arms along the deep proudly shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By each gun the lighted brand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a bold determined hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Prince of all the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led them on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like leviathans afloat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay their bulwarks on the brine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the sign of battle flew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the lofty British line:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was ten of April morn by the chime:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they drifted on their path<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was silence deep as death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the boldest held his breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the might of England flush'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To anticipate the scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her van the fleeter rush'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the deadly space between.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Hearts of oak!' our captains cried, when each gun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its adamantine lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread a death-shade round the ships,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the hurricane eclipse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again! again! again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the havoc did not slack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till a feeble cheer the Dane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To our cheering sent us back;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their shots along the deep slowly boom:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then ceased—and all is wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they strike the shatter'd sail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in conflagration pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light the gloom.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out spoke the victor then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he hail'd them o'er the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Ye are brothers! ye are men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we conquer but to save:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So peace instead of death let us bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yield, proud foe, thy fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the crews, at England's feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make submission meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To our King.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Denmark bless'd our chief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he gave her wounds repose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sounds of joy and grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her people wildly rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As death withdrew his shades from the day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the sun look'd smiling bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er a wide and woeful sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the fires of funeral light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Died away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now joy, old England, raise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the tidings of thy might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the festal cities' blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst the wine-cup shines in light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet amidst that joy and uproar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us think of them that sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full many a fathom deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy wild and stormy steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elsinore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brave hearts! to Britain's pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once so faithful and so true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the deck of fame that died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the gallant good Riou:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the billow mournful rolls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mermaid's song condoles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing glory to the souls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the brave!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCLII" id="CCLII"></a>CCLII</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE TO DUTY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Duty! if that name thou love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who art a light to guide, a rod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To check the erring, and reprove;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou who art victory and law<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When empty terrors overawe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From vain temptations dost set free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There are who ask not if thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be on them; who, in love and truth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where no misgiving is, rely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the genial sense of youth:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glad hearts! without reproach or blot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who do thy work, and know it not:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! if through confidence misplaced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Serene will be our days and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And happy will our nature be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When love is an unerring light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joy its own security.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And they a blissful course may hold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Live in the spirit of this creed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I, loving freedom, and untried,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No sport of every random gust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet being to myself a guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too blindly have reposed my trust:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oft, when in my heart was heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The task, in smoother walks to stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Through no disturbance of my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or strong compunction in me wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I supplicate for thy controul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But in the quietness of thought:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me this uncharter'd freedom tires;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I feel the weight of chance-desires:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hopes no more must change their name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I long for a repose that ever is the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Godhead's most benignant grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor know we anything so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As is the smile upon thy face:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fragrance in thy footing treads;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">To humbler functions, awful Power!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I call thee: I myself commend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto thy guidance from this hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh let my weakness have an end!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give unto me, made lowly wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spirit of self-sacrifice;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The confidence of reason give;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLIII" id="CCLIII"></a>CCLIII</h2> + +<h2><i>ON THE CASTLE OF CHILLON</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there thy habitation is the heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart which love of Thee alone can bind;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their country conquers with their martyrdom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Chillon! thy prison is a holy place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy sad floor an altar, for 'twas trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until his very steps have left a trace<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they appeal from tyranny to God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lord Byron</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLIV" id="CCLIV"></a>CCLIV</h2> + +<h2><i>ENGLAND AND SWITZERLAND, 1802</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of the Mountains; each a mighty voice:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They were thy chosen music, Liberty!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There came a tyrant, and with holy glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou fought'st against him,—but hast vainly striven:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, high-soul'd Maid, what sorrow would it be<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That Mountain floods should thunder as before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And neither awful Voice be heard by Thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLV" id="CCLV"></a>CCLV</h2> + +<h2><i>ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC.</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And was the safeguard of the West; the worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Venice did not fall below her birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Venice, the eldest child of Liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was a maiden city, bright and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No guile seduced, no force could violate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when she took unto herself a mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She must espouse the everlasting Sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And what if she had seen those glories fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those titles vanish, and that strength decay,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When her long life hath reach'd its final day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that which once was great is pass'd away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLVI" id="CCLVI"></a>CCLVI</h2> + +<h2><i>LONDON, 1802</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Friend! I know not which way I must look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For comfort, being, as I am, opprest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think that now our life is only drest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or groom!—We must run glittering like a brook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the open sunshine, or we are unblest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wealthiest man among us is the best:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No grandeur now in nature or in book<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is idolatry; and these we adore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plain living and high thinking are no more:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The homely beauty of the good old cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pure religion breathing household laws.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLVII" id="CCLVII"></a>CCLVII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE SAME</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">England hath need of thee: she is a fen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have forfeited their ancient English dower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of inward happiness. We are selfish men:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! raise us up, return to us again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So didst thou travel on life's common way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lowliest duties on herself did lay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLVIII" id="CCLVIII"></a>CCLVIII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I have borne in memory what has tamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great nations; how ennobling thoughts depart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When men change swords for ledgers, and desert<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The student's bower for gold,—some fears unnamed<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I had, my Country!—am I to be blamed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Verily, in the bottom of my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For dearly must we prize thee; we who find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee a bulwark for the cause of men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I by my affection was beguiled:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What wonder if a Poet now and then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the many movements of his mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Felt for thee as a lover or a child!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLIX" id="CCLIX"></a>CCLIX</h2> + +<h2><i>HOHENLINDEN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Linden, when the sun was low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dark as winter was the flow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></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="i2">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="i2">To join the dreadful revelry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then shook the hills with thunder riven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And louder than the bolts of Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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 stainéd snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bloodier yet the torrent flow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">Shout in their sulphurous 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="i2">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="i2">Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLX" id="CCLX"></a>CCLX</h2> + +<h2><i>AFTER BLENHEIM</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was a summer evening,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old Kaspar's work was done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he before his cottage door<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was sitting in the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by him sported on the green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His little grandchild Wilhelmine.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She saw her brother Peterkin<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roll something large and round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he beside the rivulet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In playing there had found;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He came to ask what he had found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was so large and smooth and round.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old Kaspar took it from the boy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who stood expectant by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the old man shook his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with a natural sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">''Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Who fell in the great victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I find them in the garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For there's many here about;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often when I go to plough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ploughshare turns them out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many thousand men,' said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Were slain in that great victory.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Now tell us what 'twas all about,'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young Peterkin he cries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little Wilhelmine looks up<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With wonder-waiting eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Now tell us all about the war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what they fought each other for.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'It was the English,' Kaspar cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Who put the French to rout;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what they fought each other for<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I could not well make out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But every body said,' quoth he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'That 'twas a famous victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'My father lived at Blenheim then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yon little stream hard by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They burnt his dwelling to the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he was forced to fly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So with his wife and child he fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor had he where to rest his head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'With fire and sword the country round<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was wasted far and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span><span class="i0">And many a childing mother then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And new-born baby died:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But things like that, you know, must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At every famous victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'They say it was a shocking sight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">After the field was won;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many thousand bodies here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lay rotting in the sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But things like that, you know, must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After a famous victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And our good Prince Eugene;'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Why 'twas a very wicked thing!'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said little Wilhelmine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Nay ... nay ... my little girl,' quoth he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'It was a famous victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And every body praised the Duke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who this great fight did win.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'But what good came of it at last?'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quoth little Peterkin:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Why that I cannot tell,' said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'But 'twas a famous victory.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Southey</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXI" id="CCLXI"></a>CCLXI</h2> + +<h2><i>PRO PATRIA MORI</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When he who adores thee has left out the name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of his fault and his sorrows behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a life that for thee was resign'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy tears shall efface their decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, Heaven can witness, though guilty to them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have been but too faithful to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With thee were the dreams of my earliest love;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Every thought of my reason was thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy name shall be mingled with mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The days of thy glory to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the pride of thus dying for thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Moore</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXII" id="CCLXII"></a>CCLXII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE AT CORUNNA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the grave where our hero we buried.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We buried him darkly at dead of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sods with our bayonets turning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the struggling moonbeam's misty light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lantern dimly burning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No useless coffin enclosed his breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With his martial cloak around him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Few and short were the prayers we said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we spoke not a word of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we bitterly thought of the morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And smoothed down his lonely pillow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we far away on the billow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the grave where a Briton has laid him.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But half of our heavy task was done<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the clock struck the hour for retiring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we heard the distant and random gun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the foe was sullenly firing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Slowly and sadly we laid him down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the field of his fame fresh and gory;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But we left him alone with his glory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>C. Wolfe</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXIII" id="CCLXIII"></a>CCLXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>SIMON LEE THE OLD HUNTSMAN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the sweet shire of Cardigan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not far from pleasant Ivor Hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An old man dwells, a little man,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis said he once was tall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full five-and-thirty years he lived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A running huntsman merry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still the centre of his cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is red as a ripe cherry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No man like him the horn could sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hill and valley rang with glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Echo bandied, round and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The halloo of Simon Lee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In those proud days he little cared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For husbandry or tillage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blither tasks did Simon rouse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sleepers of the village.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He all the country could outrun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could leave both man and horse behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often, ere the chase was done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He reel'd and was stone-blind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still there's something in the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At which his heart rejoices;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when the chiming hounds are out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dearly loves their voices.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But oh the heavy change!—bereft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of health, strength, friends and kindred, see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Simon to the world is left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In liveried poverty:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His master's dead, and no one now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwells in the Hall of Ivor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is the sole survivor.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he is lean and he is sick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His body, dwindled and awry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rests upon ankles swoln and thick;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His legs are thin and dry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One prop he has, and only one,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wife, an aged woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lives with him, near the waterfall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the village common.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beside their moss-grown hut of clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not twenty paces from the door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A scrap of land they have, but they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are poorest of the poor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This scrap of land he from the heath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enclosed when he was stronger;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what to them avails the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he can till no longer?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft, working by her husband's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruth does what Simon cannot do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she, with scanty cause for pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is stouter of the two.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, though you with your utmost skill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From labour could not wean them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis little, very little, all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they can do between them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Few months of life has he in store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he to you will tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For still, the more he works, the more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do his weak ankles swell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My gentle Reader, I perceive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How patiently you've waited,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now I fear that you expect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some tale will be related.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Reader! had you in your mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such stores as silent thought can bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O gentle Reader! you would find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tale in every thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What more I have to say is short,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you must kindly take it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is no tale; but, should you think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps a tale you'll make it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One summer-day I chanced to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This old Man doing all he could<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To unearth the root of an old tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stump of rotten wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mattock totter'd in his hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So vain was his endeavour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That at the root of the old tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He might have work'd for ever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'You're overtask'd, good Simon Lee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me your tool,' to him I said;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at the word right gladly he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Received my proffer'd aid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I struck, and with a single blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tangled root I sever'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At which the poor old man so long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vainly had endeavour'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tears into his eyes were brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thanks and praises seem'd to run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fast out of his heart, I thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never would have done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With coldness still returning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the gratitude of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath oftener left me mourning.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXIV" id="CCLXIV"></a>CCLXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></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 loved a Love once, fairest among women:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed 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> +</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 paced 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 wert 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">How some they have died, and some they have left me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some are taken from me; all are departed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>C. Lamb</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXV" id="CCLXV"></a>CCLXV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE JOURNEY ONWARDS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As slow our ship her foamy track<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against the wind was cleaving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her trembling pennant still look'd back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To that dear isle 'twas leaving.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So loth we part from all we love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From all the links that bind us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So turn our hearts, as on we rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To those we've left behind us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We talk with joyous seeming—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With smiles that might as well be tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So faint, so sad their beaming;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span><span class="i0">While memory brings us back again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each early tie that twined us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To those we've left behind us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when, in other climes, we meet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some isle or vale enchanting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nought but love is wanting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We think how great had been our bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If Heaven had but assign'd us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live and die in scenes like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With some we've left behind us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As travellers oft look back at eve<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When eastward darkly going,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaze upon that light they leave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still faint behind them glowing,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, when the close of pleasure's day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gloom hath near consign'd us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We turn to catch one fading ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of joy that's left behind us.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Moore</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXVI" id="CCLXVI"></a>CCLXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>YOUTH AND AGE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never stretch again.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or weep as I could once have wept o'er many a vanish'd scene,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lord Byron</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXVII" id="CCLXVII"></a>CCLXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>A LESSON</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shrinks like many more from cold and rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the first moment that the sun may shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as the sun himself, 'tis out again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or blasts the green field and the trees distrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In close self-shelter, like a thing at rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But lately, one rough day, this Flower I past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And recognized it, though an alter'd form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now standing forth an offering to the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And buffeted at will by rain and storm.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I stopp'd and said, with inly-mutter'd voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'It doth not love the shower, nor seek the cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This neither is its courage nor its choice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But its necessity in being old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The sunshine may not cheer it, nor the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It cannot help itself in its decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stiff in its members, wither'd, changed of hue,'—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was gray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To be a prodigal's favourite—then, worse truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A miser's pensioner—behold our lot!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Man! that from thy fair and shining youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age might but take the things Youth needed not!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXVIII" id="CCLXVIII"></a>CCLXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>PAST AND PRESENT</i></h2> + +<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="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> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></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 Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than when I was a boy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Hood</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXIX" id="CCLXIX"></a>CCLXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft in the stilly night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere slumber's chain has bound me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond Memory brings the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of other days around me:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The smiles, the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of boyhood's years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The words of love then spoken;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The eyes that shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now dimm'd and gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cheerful hearts now broken!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus in the stilly night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere slumber's chain has bound me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad Memory brings the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of other days around me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I remember all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The friends so link'd together<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've seen around me fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like leaves in wintry weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I feel like one<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who treads alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some banquet-hall deserted,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose lights are fled<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose garlands dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all but he departed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus in the stilly night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere slumber's chain has bound me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad Memory brings the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of other days around me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Moore</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCLXX" id="CCLXX"></a>CCLXX</h2> + +<h2><i>STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION<br /> +NEAR NAPLES</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The sun is warm, the sky is clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The waves are dancing fast and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blue isles and snowy mountains wear<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The purple noon's transparent might:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The breath of the moist earth is light<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Around its unexpanded buds;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like many a voice of one delight—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i4">I see the deep's untrampled floor<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With green and purple sea-weeds strown;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I see the waves upon the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I sit upon the sands alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The lightning of the noon-tide ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is flashing round me, and a tone<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i4">Alas! I have nor hope nor health,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nor peace within nor calm around,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nor that content, surpassing wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sage in meditation found,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And walk'd with inward glory crown'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Others I see whom these surround—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i4">Yet now despair itself is mild<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Even as the winds and waters are;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I could lie down like a tired child,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And weep away the life of care<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which I have borne, and yet must bear,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till death like sleep might steal on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And I might feel in the warm air<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCLXXI" id="CCLXXI"></a>CCLXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE SCHOLAR</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My days among the Dead are past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around me I behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er these casual eyes are cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">With them I take delight in weal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek relief in woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while I understand and feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My thoughts are with the Dead; with them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I live in long-past years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their virtues love, their faults condemn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">My hopes are with the Dead; anon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My place with them will be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I with them shall travel on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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> + +<p class="p1"><i>R. Southey</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXII" id="CCLXXII"></a>CCLXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE MERMAID TAVERN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Souls of Poets dead and gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Elysium have ye known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy field or mossy cavern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ye tippled drink more fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than mine host's Canary wine?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or are fruits of Paradise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeter than those dainty pies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of venison? O generous food!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drest as though bold Robin Hood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would, with his Maid Marian,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sup and bowse from horn and can.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I have heard that on a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine host's sign-board flew away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nobody knew whither, till<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An astrologer's old quill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a sheepskin gave the story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said he saw you in your glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Underneath a new-old sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sipping beverage divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pledging with contented smack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Mermaid in the Zodiac.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Souls of Poets dead and gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Elysium have ye known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy field or mossy cavern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXIII" id="CCLXXIII"></a>CCLXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE PRIDE OF YOUTH</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Proud Maisie is in the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Walking so early;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Robin sits on the bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Singing so rarely.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tell me, thou bonny bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When shall I marry me?'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—'When six braw gentlemen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kirkward shall carry ye.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Who makes the bridal bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Birdie, say truly?'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—'The gray-headed sexton<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That delves the grave duly<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The glowworm o'er grave and stone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall light thee steady;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The owl from the steeple sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Welcome, proud lady.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXIV" id="CCLXXIV"></a>CCLXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +<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="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> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></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="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="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="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></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> +</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="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> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Hood</i></p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCLXXV" id="CCLXXV"></a>CCLXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>ELEGY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh snatch'd away in beauty's bloom!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">And oft by yon blue gushing stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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 disturb'd the dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Away! we know that tears are vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Death nor heeds nor hears distress:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will this unteach us to complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or make one mourner weep the less?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou, who tell'st me to forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Lord Byron</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXVI" id="CCLXXVI"></a>CCLXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>HESTER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When maidens such as Hester die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their place ye may not well supply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though ye among a thousand try<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With vain endeavour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A month or more hath she been dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet cannot I by force be led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think upon the wormy bed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And her together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A springy motion in her gait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rising step, did indicate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pride and joy no common rate<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That flush'd her spirit:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not by what name beside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall it call: if 'twas not pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a joy to that allied<br /></span> +<span class="i4">She did inherit.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her parents held the Quaker rule,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which doth the human feeling cool;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she was train'd in Nature's school,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nature had blest her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A waking eye, a prying mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heart that stirs, is hard to bind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye could not Hester.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My sprightly neighbour! gone before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that unknown and silent shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we not meet, as heretofore<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Some summer morning—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from thy cheerful eyes a ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath struck a bliss upon the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bliss that would not go away,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A sweet fore-warning?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>C. Lamb</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXVII" id="CCLXXVII"></a>CCLXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO MARY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I had thought thou couldst have died,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I might not weep for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I forgot, when by thy side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou couldst mortal be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It never through my mind had past<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The time would e'er be o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I on thee should look my last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou shouldst smile no more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And still upon that face I look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And think 'twill smile again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still the thought I will not brook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I must look in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I speak—thou dost not say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now I feel, as well I may,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Mary! thou art dead!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All cold and all serene—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still might press thy silent heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And where thy smiles have been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou seemest still mine own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there I lay thee in thy grave—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I am now alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I do not think, where'er thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hast forgotten me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In thinking too of thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet there was round thee such a dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of light ne'er seen before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fancy never could have drawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never can restore!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>C. Wolfe</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXVIII" id="CCLXXVIII"></a>CCLXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>CORONACH</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is gone on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is lost to the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a summer-dried fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When our need was the sorest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The font reappearing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the raindrops shall borrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to us comes no cheering,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Duncan no morrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hand of the reaper<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Takes the ears that are hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the voice of the weeper<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wails manhood in glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The autumn winds rushing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waft the leaves that are searest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But our flower was in flushing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When blighting was nearest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fleet foot on the correi,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sage counsel in cumber,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red hand in the foray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How sound is thy slumber!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span><span class="i0">Like the dew on the mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the foam on the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the bubble on the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art gone; and for ever!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXIX" id="CCLXXIX"></a>CCLXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE DEATH BED</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We watch'd her breathing thro' the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her breathing soft and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in her breast the wave of life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">So slowly moved about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we had lent her half our powers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To eke her living out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our very hopes belied our fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our fears our hopes belied—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We thought her dying when she slept,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">And chill with early showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her quiet eyelids closed—she had<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Another morn than ours.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Hood</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXX" id="CCLXXX"></a>CCLXXX</h2> + +<h2><i>AGNES</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw her in childhood—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A bright, gentle thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the dawn of the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the dews of the spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daisies and hare-bells<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her playmates all day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herself as light-hearted<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And artless as they.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw her again—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fair girl of eighteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh glittering with graces<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mind and of mien.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her speech was all music;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like moonlight she shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The envy of many,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glory of one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Years, years fleeted over—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I stood at her foot:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bud had grown blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blossom was fruit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dignified mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her infant she bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look'd, I thought, fairer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than ever before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw her once more—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas the day that she died;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's light was around her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And God at her side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wants to distress her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No fears to appal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O then, I felt, then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She was fairest of all!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>H. F. Lyte</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXXI" id="CCLXXXI"></a>CCLXXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>ROSABELLE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O listen, listen, ladies gay!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No haughty feat of arms I tell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft is the note, and sad the lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, gentle ladye, deign to stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The blackening wave is edged with white;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To inch and rock the sea-mews fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Last night the gifted Seer did view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">''Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-night at Roslin leads the ball,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that my ladye-mother there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sits lonely in her castle-hall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not because the ring they ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Lindesay at the ring rides well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that my sire the wine will chide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—O'er Roslin all that dreary night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And redder than the bright moonbeam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It glared on Roslin's castled rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each Baron, for a sable shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sheathed in his iron panoply.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seem'd all on fire within, around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep sacristy and altar's pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone every pillar foliage-bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blazed battlement and pinnet high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So still they blaze, when fate is nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lordly line of high Saint Clair.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lie buried within that proud chapelle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each one the holy vault doth hold—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And each Saint Clair was buried there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With candle, with book, and with knell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXXII" id="CCLXXXII"></a>CCLXXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>ON AN INFANT DYING AS SOON AS BORN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw where in the shroud did lurk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A curious frame of Nature's work;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flow'ret crushéd in the bud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nameless piece of Babyhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was in her cradle-coffin lying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For darker closets of the tomb!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She did but ope an eye, and put<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A clear beam forth, then straight up shut<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the long dark: ne'er more to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through glasses of mortality.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Riddle of destiny, who can show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thy short visit meant, or know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thy errand here below?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we say, that Nature blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Check'd her hand, and changed her mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just when she had exactly wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A finish'd pattern without fault?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could she flag, or could she tire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or lack'd she the Promethean fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(With her nine moons' long workings sicken'd)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That should thy little limbs have quicken'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Limbs so firm, they seem'd to assure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life of health, and days mature:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woman's self in miniature!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span><span class="i0">Limbs so fair, they might supply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Themselves now but cold imagery)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sculptor to make Beauty by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or did the stern-eyed Fate descry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That babe or mother, one must die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in mercy left the stock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cut the branch; to save the shock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of young years widow'd, and the pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Single State comes back again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the lone man who, reft of wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thenceforward drags a maiméd life?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The economy of Heaven is dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wisest clerks have miss'd the mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why human buds, like this, should fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More brief than fly ephemeral<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That has his day; while shrivell'd crones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stiffen with age to stocks and stones;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crabbéd use the conscience sears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sinners of an hundred years.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Mother's prattle, mother's kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baby fond, thou ne'er wilt miss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rites, which custom does impose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silver bells, and baby clothes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coral redder than those lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which pale death did late eclipse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music framed for infants' glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whistle never tuned for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thou want'st not, thou shalt have them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loving hearts were they which gave them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not one be missing; nurse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See them laid upon the hearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of infant slain by doom perverse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should kings and nobles have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pictured trophies to their grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we, churls, to thee deny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy pretty toys with thee to lie—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A more harmless vanity?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>C. Lamb</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCLXXXIII" id="CCLXXXIII"></a>CCLXXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>IN MEMORIAM</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A child's a plaything for an hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its pretty tricks we try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that or for a longer space,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then tire, and lay it by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I knew one that to itself<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All seasons could control;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That would have mock'd the sense of pain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out of a grievéd soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou straggler into loving arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young climber up of knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I forget thy thousand ways<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then life and all shall cease!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>M. Lamb</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXXIV" id="CCLXXXIV"></a>CCLXXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where art thou, my beloved Son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where art thou, worse to me than dead?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh find me, prosperous or undone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if the grave be now thy bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why am I ignorant of the same<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I may rest; and neither blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sorrow may attend thy name?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seven years, alas! to have received<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tidings of an only child—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have despair'd, have hoped, believed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And been for evermore beguiled,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I catch at them, and then I miss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ever darkness like to this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He was among the prime in worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An object beauteous to behold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well born, well bred; I sent him forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If things ensued that wanted grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As hath been said, they were not base;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never blush was on my face.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! little doth the young-one dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When full of play and childish cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What power is in his wildest scream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard by his mother unawares!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows it not, he cannot guess;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Years to a mother bring distress;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But do not make her love the less.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Neglect me! no, I suffer'd long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that ill thought; and being blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said 'Pride shall help me in my wrong:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind mother have I been, as kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever breathed:' and that is true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've wet my path with tears like dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeping for him when no one knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Son, if thou be humbled, poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hopeless of honour and of gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! do not dread thy mother's door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think not of me with grief and pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I now can see with better eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worldly grandeur I despise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fortune with her gifts and lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blasts of heaven will aid their flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They mount—how short a voyage brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanderers back to their delight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chains tie us down by land and sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wishes, vain as mine, may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that is left to comfort thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maim'd, mangled by inhuman men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or thou upon a desert thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inheritest the lion's den;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or hast been summon'd to the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, thou, and all thy mates, to keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An incommunicable sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look for ghosts: but none will force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their way to me; 'tis falsely said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That there was ever intercourse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the living and the dead;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span><span class="i0">For surely then I should have sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him I wait for day and night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love and longings infinite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My apprehensions come in crowds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dread the rustling of the grass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very shadows of the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have power to shake me as they pass:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I question things, and do not find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One that will answer to my mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the world appears unkind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beyond participation lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My troubles, and beyond relief:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If any chance to heave a sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They pity me, and not my grief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come to me, my Son, or send<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some tidings that my woes may end!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have no other earthly friend.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXXV" id="CCLXXXV"></a>CCLXXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>HUNTING SONG</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Waken, lords and ladies gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the mountain dawns the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the jolly chase is here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hawk and horse and hunting-spear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hounds are in their couples yelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merrily merrily mingle they,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Waken, lords and ladies gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mist has left the mountain gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springlets in the dawn are steaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diamonds on the brake are gleaming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And foresters have busy been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To track the buck in thicket green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now we come to chant our lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Waken, lords and ladies gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the greenwood haste away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can show you where he lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleet of foot and tall of size;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can show the marks he made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall see him brought to bay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Louder, louder chant the lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waken, lords and ladies gay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell them youth and mirth and glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run a course as well as we;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of this, and rise with day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle lords and ladies gay!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXXVI" id="CCLXXXVI"></a>CCLXXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE SKYLARK</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or while the wings aspire, are heart and eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those quivering wings composed, that music still!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To the last point of vision, and beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mount, daring warbler!—that love-prompted strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All independent of the leafy Spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A privacy of glorious light is thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of harmony, with instinct more divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCLXXXVII" id="CCLXXXVII"></a>CCLXXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO A SKYLARK</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Bird thou never wert,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That from heaven, or near it<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Pourest thy full heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Higher still and higher<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the earth thou springest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a cloud of fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">In the golden lightning<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the sunken sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er which clouds are brightening,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">The pale purple even<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Melts around thy flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a star of heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the broad daylight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Keen as are the arrows<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of that silver sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose intense lamp narrows<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the white dawn clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">All the earth and air<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With thy voice is loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As, when night is bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From one lonely cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflow'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">What thou art we know not;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What is most like thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From rainbow clouds there flow not<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Drops so bright to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from thy presence showers a rain of melody;—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Like a poet hidden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the light of thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Singing hymns unbidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">Like a high-born maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a palace tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soothing her love-laden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Soul in secret hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Like a glow-worm golden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a dell of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scattering unbeholden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Its aerial 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="i2">Like a rose embower'd<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In its own green leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By warm winds deflower'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till the scent it gives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-wingéd thieves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sound of vernal showers<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the twinkling grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rain-awaken'd flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">Teach us, sprite or bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What sweet thoughts are thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have never heard<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">Chorus hymeneal<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or triumphal chaunt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Match'd with thine, would be all<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But an empty vaunt—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">What objects are the fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of thy happy strain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What fields, or waves, or mountains?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">With thy clear keen joyance<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Languor cannot be:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shadow of annoyance<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Never came near thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Waking or asleep<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou of death must deem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Things more true and deep<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">We look before and after,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And pine for what is not:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our sincerest laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">Yet if we could scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hate, and pride, and fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If we were things born<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">Better than all measures<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of delightful sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Better than all treasures<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">Teach me half the gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That thy brain must know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such harmonious madness<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From my lips would flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world should listen then, as I am listening now!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CCLXXXVIII" id="CCLXXXVIII"></a>CCLXXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE GREEN LINNET</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their snow-white blossoms on my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With brightest sunshine round me spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Spring's unclouded weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this sequester'd nook how sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sit upon my orchard-seat!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers and birds once more to greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My last year's friends together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One have I mark'd, the happiest guest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all this covert of the blest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hail to Thee, far above the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In joy of voice and pinion!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, Linnet! in thy green array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presiding Spirit here to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost lead the revels of the May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this is thy dominion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While birds, and butterflies, and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make all one band of paramours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, ranging up and down the bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art sole in thy employment;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Life, a Presence like the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scattering thy gladness without care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too blest with any one to pair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thyself thy own enjoyment.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amid yon tuft of hazel trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That twinkle to the gusty breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold him perch'd in ecstasies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet seeming still to hover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There! where the flutter of his wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon his back and body flings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadows and sunny glimmerings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cover him all over.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dazzled sight he oft deceives—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brother of the dancing leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pours forth his song in gushes;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span><span class="i0">As if by that exulting strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He mock'd and treated with disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voiceless Form he chose to feign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While fluttering in the bushes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCLXXXIX" id="CCLXXXIX"></a>CCLXXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE CUCKOO</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O blithe new-comer! I have heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear thee and rejoice:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or but a wandering Voice?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While I am lying on the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy twofold shout I hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hill to hill it seems to pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once far off and near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though babbling only to the vale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sunshine and of flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bringest unto me a tale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of visionary hours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even yet thou art to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bird, but an invisible thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice, a mystery;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The same whom in my school-boy days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I listen'd to; that Cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made me look a thousand ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bush, and tree, and sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To seek thee did I often rove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through woods and on the green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou wert still a hope, a love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still long'd for, never seen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I can listen to thee yet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can lie upon the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listen, till I do beget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That golden time again.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O blesséd Bird! the earth we pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again appears to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An unsubstantial, faery place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is fit home for Thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXC" id="CCXC"></a>CCXC</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">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="i2">But being too happy in thine happiness,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That thou, light-wingéd Dryad of the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In some melodious plot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Singest of summer in full-throated ease.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvéd earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tasting of Flora and the country green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And purple-stainéd mouth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What thou among the leaves hast never known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weariness, the fever, and the fret<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where but to think is to be full of sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And leaden-eyed despairs;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away! away! for I will fly to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on the viewless wings of Poesy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already with thee! tender is the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But here there is no light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, in embalméd darkness, guess each sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherewith the seasonable month endows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And mid-May's eldest child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Darkling I listen; and for many a time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have been half in love with easeful Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call'd him soft names in many a muséd rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">To cease upon the midnight with no pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In such an ecstasy!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To thy high requiem become a sod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No hungry generations tread thee down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice I hear this passing night was heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span><span class="i4">She stood in tears amid the alien corn;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The same that oft-times hath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forlorn! the very word is like a bell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Past the near meadows, over the still stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In the next valley-glades:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was it a vision, or a waking dream?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXCI" id="CCXCI"></a>CCXCI</h2> + +<h2><i>UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPT. 3, 1802</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth has not anything to show more fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dull would he be 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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXCII" id="CCXCII"></a>CCXCII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To one who has been long in city pent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis very sweet to look into the fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And open face of heaven,—to breathe a prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full in the smile of the blue firmament.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who is more happy, when, with heart's content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle tale of love and languishment?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Returning home at evening, with an ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Catching the notes of Philomel,—an eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He mourns that day so soon has glided by:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en like the passage of an angel's tear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That falls through the clear ether silently.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXCIII" id="CCXCIII"></a>CCXCIII</h2> + +<h2><i>OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I met a traveller from an antique land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell that its sculptor well those passions read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the pedestal these words appear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing beside remains. Round the decay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lone and level sands stretch far away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXCIV" id="CCXCIV"></a>CCXCIV</h2> + +<h2><i>COMPOSED AT NEIDPATH CASTLE, THE<br /> +PROPERTY OF LORD QUEENSBERRY,<br /> +1803</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy lord!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom mere despite of heart could so far please<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love of havoc, (for with such disease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame taxes him,) that he could send forth word<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To level with the dust a noble horde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brotherhood of venerable trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving an ancient dome, and towers like these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beggar'd and outraged!—Many hearts deplored<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fate of those old trees; and oft with pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The traveller at this day will stop and gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On wrongs, which Nature scarcely seems to heed:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For shelter'd places, bosoms, nooks, and bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the green silent pastures, yet remain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXCV" id="CCXCV"></a>CCXCV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE BEECH TREE'S PETITION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O leave this barren spot to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though bush or floweret never grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My dark unwarming shade below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor summer bud perfume the dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rosy blush, or yellow hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor fruits of autumn, blossom-born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My green and glossy leaves adorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor murmuring tribes from me derive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' ambrosial amber of the hive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet leave this barren spot to me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thrice twenty summers I have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sky grow bright, the forest green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a wintry wind have stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bloomless, fruitless solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since childhood in my pleasant bower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First spent its sweet and sportive hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since youthful lovers in my shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their vows of truth and rapture made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on my trunk's surviving frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carved many a long-forgotten name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First breathed upon this sacred ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all that Love has whisper'd here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Beauty heard with ravish'd ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Love's own altar honour me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXCVI" id="CCXCVI"></a>CCXCVI</h2> + +<h2><i>ADMONITION TO A TRAVELLER</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The lovely Cottage in the guardian nook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath stirr'd thee deeply; with its own dear brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its own small pasture, almost its own sky!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But covet not the abode; forbear to sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As many do, repining while they look;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intruders—who would tear from Nature's book<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This precious leaf with harsh impiety.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Think what the home must be if it were thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even thine, though few thy wants!—Roof, window, door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very flowers are sacred to the Poor,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The roses to the porch which they entwine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, all that now enchants thee, from the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which it should be touch'd, would melt away!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCXCVII" id="CCXCVII"></a>CCXCVII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE HIGHLAND GIRL OF INVERSNEYDE</i></h2> + +<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="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 ye do seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like something fashion'd 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 fill'd with tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With earnest feeling I shall pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee when I am far away;<br /></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 scatter'd, like a random seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remote from men, Thou dost not need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The embarrass'd look of shy distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And maidenly shamefacédness:<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="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></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 brook'd, 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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">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="i0">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 recompence.<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="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="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></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> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXCVIII" id="CCXCVIII"></a>CCXCVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE REAPER</i></h2> + +<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="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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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 listen'd, motionless and still;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></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> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCXCIX" id="CCXCIX"></a>CCXCIX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor Susan has pass'd by the spot, and has heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the silence of morning the song of the bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down which she so often has tripp'd with her pail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mist and the river, the hill and the shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the colours have all pass'd away from her eyes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCC" id="CCC"></a>CCC</h2> + +<h2><i>TO A LADY, WITH A GUITAR</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ariel to Miranda:—Take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This slave of music, for the sake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him, who is the slave of thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach it all the harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which thou canst, and only thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make the delighted spirit glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till joy denies itself again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, too intense, is turn'd to pain.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span><span class="i0">For by permission and command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thine own Prince Ferdinand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor Ariel sends this silent token<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of more than ever can be spoken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From life to life must still pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your happiness, for thus alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can Ariel ever find his own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Prospero's enchanted cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the mighty verses tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the throne of Naples he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit you o'er the trackless sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flitting on, your prow before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a living meteor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you die, the silent Moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her interlunar swoon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not sadder in her cell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than deserted Ariel:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you live again on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an unseen Star of birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ariel guides you o'er the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life from your nativity:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many changes have been run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Ferdinand and you begun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your course of love, and Ariel still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has track'd your steps and served your will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now in humbler, happier lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is all remember'd not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, alas! the poor Sprite is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imprison'd for some fault of his<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a body like a grave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From you he only dares to crave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his service and his sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A smile to-day, a song to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The artist who this idol wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To echo all harmonious thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell'd a tree, while on the steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woods were in their winter sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rock'd in that repose divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the wind-swept Apennine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreaming, some of Autumn past,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span><span class="i0">And some of Spring approaching fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some of April buds and showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some of songs in July bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all of love: And so this tree,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh that such our death may be!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Died in sleep, and felt no pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live in happier form again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which, beneath heaven's fairest star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The artist wrought this loved Guitar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taught it justly to reply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all who question skilfully<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In language gentle as thine own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering in enamour'd tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet oracles of woods and dells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summer winds in sylvan cells:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—For it had learnt all harmonies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the plains and of the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the forests and the mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the many-voicéd fountains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clearest echoes of the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The softest notes of falling rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The melodies of birds and bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The murmuring of summer seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pattering rain, and breathing dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And airs of evening; and it knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seldom-heard mysterious sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, driven on its diurnal round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it floats through boundless day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our world enkindles on its way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—All this it knows, but will not tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To those who cannot question well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Spirit that inhabits it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It talks according to the wit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its companions; and no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is heard than has been felt before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By those who tempt it to betray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These secrets of an elder day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, sweetly as its answers will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flatter hands of perfect skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It keeps its highest holiest tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For our beloved Friend alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CCCI" id="CCCI"></a>CCCI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE DAFFODILS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wander'd lonely as a cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That floats on high o'er vales and hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all at once I saw a crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A host of golden daffodils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the lake, beneath the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Continuous as the stars that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And twinkle on the milky way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stretch'd in never-ending line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the margin of a bay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ten thousand saw I at a glance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The waves beside them danced, but they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Poet could not but be gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such a jocund company!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gazed—and gazed—but little thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wealth the show to me had brought;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For oft, when on my couch I lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vacant or in pensive mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They flash upon that inward eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is the bliss of solitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then my heart with pleasure fills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dances with the daffodils.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCII" id="CCCII"></a>CCCII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE DAISY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With little here to do or see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of things that in the great world be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For thou art worthy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou unassuming Common-place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Nature, with that homely face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet with something of a grace<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which Love makes for thee!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft on the dappled turf at ease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit and play with similes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loose types of things through all degrees,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thoughts of thy raising;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a fond and idle name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I give to thee, for praise or blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As is the humour of the game,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While I am gazing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A nun demure, of lowly port;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy simplicity the sport<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of all temptations;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A queen in crown of rubies drest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A starveling in a scanty vest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all, as seems to suit thee best,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy appellations.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A little Cyclops, with one eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Staring to threaten and defy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thought comes next—and instantly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The freak is over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shape will vanish, and behold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silver shield with boss of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spreads itself, some faery bold<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In fight to cover.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see thee glittering from afar—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then thou art a pretty star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not quite so fair as many are<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In heaven above thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet like a star, with glittering crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May peace come never to his nest<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who shall reprove thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet Flower! for by that name at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all my reveries are past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I call thee, and to that cleave fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sweet silent Creature!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breath'st with me in sun and air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do thou, as thou art wont, repair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart with gladness, and a share<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of thy meek nature!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCIII" id="CCCIII"></a>CCCIII</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE TO AUTUMN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conspiring with him how to load and bless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spares the next swath and all its twinéd flowers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steady thy laden head across a brook;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While barréd clouds bloom the soft-dying day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Among the river-sallows, borne aloft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">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="i0">Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCIV" id="CCCIV"></a>CCCIV</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE TO WINTER</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Germany, December, 1800</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When first the fiery-mantled Sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heavenly race began to run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the earth and ocean blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His children four the Seasons flew.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First, in green apparel dancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young Spring smiled with angel-grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rosy Summer next advancing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush'd into her sire's embrace—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bright-hair'd sire, who bade her keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever nearest to his smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Calpe's olive-shaded steep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or India's citron-cover'd isles:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More remote, and buxom-brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Queen of vintage bow'd before his throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rich pomegranate gemm'd her crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ripe sheaf bound her zone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But howling Winter fled afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hills that prop the polar star;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loves on deer-borne car to ride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With barren darkness by his side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the shore where loud Lofoden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whirls to death the roaring whale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the hall where Runic Odin<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Howls his war-song to the gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save when adown the ravaged globe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He travels on his native storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deflowering Nature's grassy robe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And trampling on her faded form:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till light's returning Lord assume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shaft that drives him to his polar field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of power to pierce his raven plume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And crystal-cover'd shield.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sire of storms! whose savage ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lapland drum delights to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Frenzy with her blood-shot eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Implores thy dreadful deity—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span><span class="i0">Archangel! Power of desolation!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast descending as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, hath mortal invocation<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spells to touch thy stony heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, sullen Winter! hear my prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gently rule the ruin'd year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor chill the wanderer's bosom bare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor freeze the wretch's falling tear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shuddering Want's unmantled bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy horror-breathing agues cease to lend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gently on the orphan head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Innocence descend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But chiefly spare, O king of clouds!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sailor on his airy shrouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wrecks and beacons strew the steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spectres walk along the deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Milder yet thy snowy breezes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pour on yonder tented shores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the Rhine's broad billow freezes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the dark-brown Danube roars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, winds of Winter! list ye there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To many a deep and dying groan?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or start, ye demons of the midnight air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At shrieks and thunders louder than your own?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! ev'n your unhallow'd breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May spare the victim fallen low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Man will ask no truce to death,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No bounds to human woe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCV" id="CCCV"></a>CCCV</h2> + +<h2><i>YARROW UNVISITED</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>1803</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From Stirling Castle we had seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mazy Forth unravell'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the Tweed had travell'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when we came to Clovenford,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then said my 'winsome Marrow,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the Braes of Yarrow.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who have been buying, selling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each maiden to her dwelling!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Yarrow's banks let herons feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hares couch, and rabbits burrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we will downward with the Tweed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor turn aside to Yarrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There's Gala Water, Leader Haughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both lying right before us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Dryburgh, where with chiming Tweed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lintwhites sing in chorus;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made blithe with plough and harrow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why throw away a needful day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To go in search of Yarrow?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'What's Yarrow but a river bare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That glides the dark hills under?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are a thousand such elsewhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As worthy of your wonder.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Strange words they seem'd of slight and scorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My True-love sigh'd for sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look'd me in the face, to think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thus could speak of Yarrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O green,' said I, 'are Yarrow's holms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet is Yarrow flowing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we will leave it growing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er hilly path and open strath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll wander Scotland thorough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, though so near, we will not turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the dale of Yarrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Let beeves and home-bred kine partake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swan on still Saint Mary's Lake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Float double, swan and shadow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We will not see them; will not go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day, nor yet to-morrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough if in our hearts we know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's such a place as Yarrow.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It must, or we shall rue it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have a vision of our own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! why should we undo it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The treasured dreams of times long past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll keep them, winsome Marrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when we're there, although 'tis fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill be another Yarrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'If Care with freezing years should come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wandering seem but folly,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should we be loth to stir from home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet be melancholy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should life be dull, and spirits low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill soothe us in our sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That earth has something yet to show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bonny holms of Yarrow!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCVI" id="CCCVI"></a>CCCVI</h2> + +<h2><i>YARROW VISITED</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>September, 1814</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And is this—Yarrow?—This the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which my fancy cherish'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So faithfully, a waking dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An image that hath perish'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O that some minstrel's harp were near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To utter notes of gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chase this silence from the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fills my heart with sadness!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet why?—a silvery current flows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With uncontroll'd meanderings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor have these eyes by greener hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Been soothed, in all my wanderings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, through her depths, Saint Mary's Lake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is visibly delighted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For not a feature of those hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is in the mirror slighted.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow Vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save where that pearly whiteness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is round the rising sun diffused,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tender hazy brightness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mild dawn of promise! that excludes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All profitless dejection;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though not unwilling here to admit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pensive recollection.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where was it that the famous Flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bed perchance was yon smooth mound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which the herd is feeding:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And haply from this crystal pool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now peaceful as the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Water-wraith ascended thrice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave his doleful warning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Delicious is the lay that sings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haunts of happy lovers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The path that leads them to the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The leafy grove that covers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pity sanctifies the verse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That paints, by strength of sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The unconquerable strength of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear witness, rueful Yarrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou that didst appear so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fond imagination,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost rival in the light of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her delicate creation:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meek loveliness is round thee spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A softness still and holy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grace of forest charms decay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pastoral melancholy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That region left, the vale unfolds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich groves of lofty stature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Yarrow winding through the pomp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cultivated nature;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rising from those lofty groves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold a ruin hoary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shatter'd front of Newark's towers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renown'd in Border story.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sportive youth to stray in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For manhood to enjoy his strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And age to wear away in!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A covert for protection<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tender thoughts that nestle there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brood of chaste affection.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How sweet on this autumnal day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild-wood fruits to gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on my True-love's forehead plant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crest of blooming heather!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what if I enwreathed my own?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twere no offence to reason;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sober hills thus deck their brows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet the wintry season.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see—but not by sight alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loved Yarrow, have I won thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ray of Fancy still survives—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sunshine plays upon thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy ever-youthful waters keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A course of lively pleasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gladsome notes my lips can breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accordant to the measure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The vapours linger round the heights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They melt, and soon must vanish;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One hour is theirs, nor more is mine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad thought! which I would banish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that I know, where'er I go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy genuine image, Yarrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will dwell with me, to heighten joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cheer my mind in sorrow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCVII" id="CCCVII"></a>CCCVII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE INVITATION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Best and brightest, come away,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairer far than this fair Day,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span><span class="i0">Which, like thee, to those in sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the rough year just awake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its cradle on the brake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brightest hour of unborn Spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the winter wandering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found, it seems, the halcyon morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hoar February born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bending from heaven, in azure mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It kiss'd the forehead of the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiled upon the silent sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bade the frozen streams be free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waked to music all their fountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breathed upon the frozen mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a prophetess of May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strew'd flowers upon the barren way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making the wintry world appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Away, away, from men and towns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the wild wood and the downs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the silent wilderness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the soul need not repress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its music, lest it should not find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An echo in another's mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the touch of Nature's art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harmonizes heart to heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Radiant Sister of the Day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake! arise! and come away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the wild woods and the plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the pools where winter rains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Image all their roof of leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the pine its garland weaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sapless green, and ivy dun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round stems that never kiss the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the lawns and pastures be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sandhills of the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the melting hoar-frost wets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daisy-star that never sets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wind-flowers and violets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which yet join not scent to hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown the pale year weak and new;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span><span class="i0">When the night is left behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the deep east, dim and blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the blue noon is over us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the multitudinous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Billows murmur at our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the earth and ocean meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all things seem only one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the universal Sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCVIII" id="CCCVIII"></a>CCCVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE RECOLLECTION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the last day of many days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All beautiful and bright as thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loveliest and the last, is dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise, Memory, and write its praise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up—to thy wonted work! come, trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The epitaph of glory fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now the earth has changed its face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A frown is on the heaven's brow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We wander'd to the Pine Forest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That skirts the Ocean's foam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lightest wind was in its nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tempest in its home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whispering waves were half asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clouds were gone to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the bosom of the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The smile of heaven lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seem'd as if the hour were one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sent from beyond the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which scatter'd from above the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A light of Paradise!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We paused amid the pines that stood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The giants of the waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tortured by storms to shapes as rude<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As serpents interlaced,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soothed by every azure breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That under heaven is blown,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span><span class="i0">To harmonies and hues beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As tender as its own:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now all the tree-tops lay asleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like green waves on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As still as in the silent deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ocean-woods may be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How calm it was!—The silence there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By such a chain was bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That even the busy woodpecker<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made stiller with her sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The inviolable quietness;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The breath of peace we drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its soft motion made not less<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The calm that round us grew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There seem'd, from the remotest seat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the white mountain waste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the soft flower beneath our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A magic circle traced,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit interfused around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thrilling silent life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To momentary peace it bound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our mortal nature's strife;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still I felt the centre of<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The magic circle there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was one fair form that fill'd with love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lifeless atmosphere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We paused beside the pools that lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under the forest bough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each seem'd as 'twere a little sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gulf'd in a world below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A firmament of purple light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which in the dark earth lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More boundless than the depth of night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And purer than the day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which the lovely forests grew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As in the upper air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More perfect both in shape and hue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than any spreading there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And through the dark-green wood<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span><span class="i0">The white sun twinkling like the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out of a speckled cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet views which in our world above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can never well be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were imaged in the water's love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of that fair forest green:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all was interfused beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With an Elysian glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An atmosphere without a breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A softer day below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one beloved, the scene had lent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the dark water's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its every leaf and lineament<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With more than truth exprest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until an envious wind crept by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like an unwelcome thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from the mind's too faithful eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blots one dear image out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Though thou art ever fair and kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The forests ever green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less oft is peace in Shelley's mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than calm in waters seen!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCIX" id="CCCIX"></a>CCCIX</h2> + +<h2><i>BY THE SEA</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The holy time is quiet as a Nun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathless with adoration; the broad sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is sinking down in its tranquillity;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listen! the mighty Being is awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And doth with his eternal motion make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sound like thunder—everlastingly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with me here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou appear untouch'd by solemn thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy nature is not therefore less divine:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God being with thee when we know it not.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCX" id="CCCX"></a>CCCX</h2> + +<h2><i>SONG TO THE EVENING STAR</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Star that bringest home the bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sett'st the weary labourer free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If any star shed peace, 'tis Thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That send'st it from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are sweet as hers we love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come to the luxuriant skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst the landscape's odours rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And songs when toil is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From cottages whose smoke unstirr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Curls yellow in the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Star of love's soft interviews,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parted lovers on thee muse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their remembrancer in Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thrilling vows thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too delicious to be riven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By absence from the heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXI" id="CCCXI"></a>CCCXI</h2> + +<h2><i>DATUR HORA QUIETI</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun upon the lake is low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wild birds hush their song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills have evening's deepest glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet Leonard tarries long.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now all whom varied toil and care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From home and love divide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the calm sunset may repair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each to the loved one's side.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The noble dame, on turret high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who waits her gallant knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks to the western beam to spy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flash of armour bright.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The village maid, with hand on brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The level ray to shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the footpath watches now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Colin's darkening plaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now to their mates the wild swans row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By day they swam apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the thicket wanders slow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hind beside the hart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woodlark at his partner's side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twitters his closing song—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All meet whom day and care divide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Leonard tarries long!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>Sir W. Scott</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXII" id="CCCXII"></a>CCCXII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO THE MOON</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Art thou pale for weariness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wandering companionless<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among the stars that have a different birth,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever-changing, like a joyless eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That finds no object worth its constancy?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXIII" id="CCCXIII"></a>CCCXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>TO SLEEP</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One after one; the sound of rain, and bees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I've thought of all by turns, and yet do lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must hear, first utter'd from my orchard trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So do not let me wear to-night away:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, blesséd barrier between day and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXIV" id="CCCXIV"></a>CCCXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE SOLDIER'S DREAM</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When reposing that night on my pallet of straw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far, far, I had roam'd on a desolate track:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas Autumn,—and sunshine arose on the way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From my home and my weeping friends never to part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Stay—stay with us!—rest!—thou art weary and worn!'—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXV" id="CCCXV"></a>CCCXV</h2> + +<h2><i>A DREAM OF THE UNKNOWN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle odours led my steps astray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou mightest in dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The constellated flower that never sets;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colour'd May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wild roses, and ivy serpentine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And nearer to the river's trembling edge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prank'd with white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And starry river-buds among the sedge,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With moonlight beams of their own watery light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Methought that of these visionary flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I made a nosegay, bound in such a way<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span><span class="i0">That the same hues, which in their natural bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were mingled or opposed, the like array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept these imprison'd children of the Hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might there present it—O! to Whom?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXVI" id="CCCXVI"></a>CCCXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>KUBLA KHAN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In Xanadu did Kubla Khan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stately pleasure-dome decree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Alph, the sacred river, ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through caverns measureless to man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down to a sunless sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So twice five miles of fertile ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With walls and towers were girdled round:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where blossom'd many an incense-bearing tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here were forests ancient as the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A savage place! as holy and enchanted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By woman wailing for her demon-lover!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mighty fountain momently was forced:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It flung up momently the sacred river.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Five miles meandering with a mazy motion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then reach'd the caverns measureless to man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ancestral voices prophesying war!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The shadow of the dome of pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Floated midway on the waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where was heard the mingled measure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the fountain and the caves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a miracle of rare device,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A damsel with a dulcimer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a vision once I saw:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was an Abyssinian maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on her dulcimer she play'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Singing of Mount Abora.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could I revive within me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her symphony and song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To such a deep delight 'twould win me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with music loud and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would build that dome in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sunny dome! those caves of ice!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all who heard should see them there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all should cry, Beware! Beware!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His flashing eyes, his floating hair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weave a circle round him thrice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And close your eyes with holy dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he on honey-dew hath fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drunk the milk of Paradise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>S. T. Coleridge</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXVII" id="CCCXVII"></a>CCCXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE INNER VISION</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pace the ground, if path be there or none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While a fair region round the traveller lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he forbears again to look upon;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The work of Fancy, or some happy tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of meditation, slipping in between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauty coming and the beauty gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—If Thought and Love desert us, from that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us break off all commerce with the Muse:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Thought and Love companions of our way—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whate'er the senses take or may refuse,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of inspiration on the humblest lay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXVIII" id="CCCXVIII"></a>CCCXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE REALM OF FANCY</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ever let the Fancy roam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasure never is at home:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to bubbles when rain pelteth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let wingéd Fancy wander<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the thought still spread beyond her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open wide the mind's cage-door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet Fancy! let her loose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summer's joys are spoilt by use,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the enjoying of the Spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fades as does its blossoming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Autumn's red-lipp'd fruitage too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blushing through the mist and dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cloys with tasting: What do then?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit thee by the ingle, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sear faggot blazes bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spirit of a winter's night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the soundless earth is muffled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the cakéd snow is shuffled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the ploughboy's heavy shoon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Night doth meet the Noon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a dark conspiracy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To banish Even from her sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit thee there, and send abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a mind self-overaw'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fancy, high-commission'd:—send her!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has vassals to attend her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will bring, in spite of frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauties that the earth hath lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will bring thee, all together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All delights of summer weather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the buds and bells of May,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span><span class="i0">From dewy sward or thorny spray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the heapéd Autumn's wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a still, mysterious stealth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will mix these pleasures up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like three fit wines in a cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou shalt quaff it:—thou shalt hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distant harvest-carols clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rustle of the reapéd corn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet birds antheming the morn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in the same moment—hark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the early April lark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the rooks, with busy caw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foraging for sticks and straw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt, at one glance, behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daisy and the marigold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White-plumed lilies, and the first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaded hyacinth, alway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sapphire queen of the mid-May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every leaf, and every flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pearléd with the self-same shower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meagre from its celléd sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the snake all winter-thin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast on sunny bank its skin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hatching in the hawthorn-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the hen-bird's wing doth rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quiet on her mossy nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the hurry and alarm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the bee-hive casts its swarm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Acorns ripe down-pattering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the autumn breezes sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Everything is spoilt by use:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where's the cheek that doth not fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too much gazed at? Where's the maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose lip mature is ever new?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where's the eye, however blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth not weary? Where's the face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One would meet in every place?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where's the voice, however soft,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span><span class="i0">One would hear so very oft?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let then wingéd Fancy find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee a mistress to thy mind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the God of Torment taught her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How to frown and how to chide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a waist and with a side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as Hebe's, when her zone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slipt its golden clasp, and down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell her kirtle to her feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she held the goblet sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jove grew languid.—Break the mesh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Fancy's silken leash;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quickly break her prison-string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such joys as these she'll bring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Let the wingéd Fancy roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasure never is at home.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXIX" id="CCCXIX"></a>CCCXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heard a thousand blended notes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in a grove I sate reclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring sad thoughts to the mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To her fair works did Nature link<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The human soul that through me ran;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And much it grieved my heart to think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Man has made of Man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'tis my faith that every flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enjoys the air it breathes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The birds around me hopp'd and play'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their thoughts I cannot measure,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the least motion which they made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seem'd a thrill of pleasure.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The budding twigs spread out their fan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To catch the breezy air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I must think, do all I can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That there was pleasure there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If this belief from heaven be sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If such be Nature's holy plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I not reason to lament<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Man has made of Man?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXX" id="CCCXX"></a>CCCXX</h2> + +<h2><i>RUTH: OR THE INFLUENCES OF NATURE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Ruth was left half desolate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her father took another mate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Ruth, not seven years old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A slighted child, at her own will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went wandering over dale and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thoughtless freedom, bold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And she had made a pipe of straw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And music from that pipe could draw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sounds of winds and floods;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had built a bower upon the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if she from her birth had been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An infant of the woods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath her father's roof, alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seem'd to live; her thoughts her own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herself her own delight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleased with herself, nor sad nor gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And passing thus the live-long day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She grew to woman's height.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There came a youth from Georgia's shore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A military casque he wore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With splendid feathers drest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He brought them from the Cherokees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The feathers nodded in the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made a gallant crest.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From Indian blood you deem him sprung:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no! he spake the English tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bore a soldier's name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when America was free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From battle and from jeopardy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'cross the ocean came.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With hues of genius on his cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In finest tones the youth could speak:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—While he was yet a boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon, the glory of the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And streams that murmur as they run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had been his dearest joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He was a lovely youth! I guess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The panther in the wilderness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was not so fair as he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when he chose to sport and play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No dolphin ever was so gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the tropic sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Among the Indians he had fought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with him many tales he brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pleasure and of fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such tales as, told to any maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By such a youth, in the green shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were perilous to hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He told of girls, a happy rout!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who quit their fold with dance and shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their pleasant Indian town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gather strawberries all day long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Returning with a choral song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When daylight is gone down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He spake of plants that hourly change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their blossoms, through a boundless range<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of intermingling hues;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With budding, fading, faded flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stand the wonder of the bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From morn to evening dews.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He told of the magnolia, spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High as a cloud, high over head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cypress and her spire;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span><span class="i0">—Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cover a hundred leagues, and seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To set the hills on fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The youth of green savannahs spake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many an endless, endless lake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all its fairy crowds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of islands, that together lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As quietly as spots of sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the evening clouds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'How pleasant,' then he said, 'it were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fisher or a hunter there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sunshine or in shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wander with an easy mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And build a household fire, and find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A home in every glade!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'What days and what bright years! Ah me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our life were life indeed, with thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So pass'd in quiet bliss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the while,' said he, 'to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we were in a world of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On such an earth as this!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then he sometimes interwove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond thoughts about a father's love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'For there,' said he, 'are spun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the heart such tender ties,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That our own children to our eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are dearer than the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Sweet Ruth! and could you go with me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My helpmate in the woods to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our shed at night to rear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or run, my own adopted bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sylvan huntress at my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drive the flying deer!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Beloved Ruth!'—No more he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wakeful Ruth at midnight shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A solitary tear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She thought again—and did agree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him to sail across the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drive the flying deer.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And now, as fitting is and right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We in the church our faith will plight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A husband and a wife.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so they did; and I may say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to sweet Ruth that happy day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was more than human life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through dream and vision did she sink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delighted all the while to think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, on those lonesome floods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And green savannahs, she should share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His board with lawful joy, and bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His name in the wild woods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, as you have before been told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Stripling, sportive, gay, and bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his dancing crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So beautiful, through savage lands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had roam'd about, with vagrant bands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Indians in the West.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wind, the tempest roaring high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tumult of a tropic sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might well be dangerous food<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For him, a youth to whom was given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much of earth—so much of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such impetuous blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whatever in those climes he found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Irregular in sight or sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did to his mind impart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kindred impulse, seem'd allied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his own powers, and justified<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The workings of his heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor less, to feed voluptuous thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauteous forms of Nature wrought,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair trees and gorgeous flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breezes their own languor lent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars had feelings, which they sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into those favour'd bowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, in his worst pursuits, I ween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sometimes there did intervene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure hopes of high intent:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span><span class="i0">For passions link'd to forms so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stately, needs must have their share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of noble sentiment.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ill he lived, much evil saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With men to whom no better law<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor better life was known;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deliberately and undeceived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those wild men's vices he received,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave them back his own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His genius and his moral frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were thus impair'd, and he became<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slave of low desires:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man who without self-control<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would seek what the degraded soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unworthily admires.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet he with no feign'd delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had woo'd the maiden, day and night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had loved her, night and morn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What could he less than love a maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart with so much nature play'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So kind and so forlorn?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sometimes most earnestly he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'O Ruth! I have been worse than dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False thoughts, thoughts bold and vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encompass'd me on every side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I, in confidence and pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had cross'd the Atlantic main.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Before me shone a glorious world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh as a banner bright, unfurl'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To music suddenly:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look'd upon those hills and plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seem'd as if let loose from chains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live at liberty!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'No more of this—for now, by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear Ruth! more happily set free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nobler zeal I burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul from darkness is released<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the whole sky when to the east<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morning doth return.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full soon that better mind was gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hope, no wish remain'd, not one,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stirr'd him now no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New objects did new pleasure give,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And once again he wish'd to live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lawless as before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile, as thus with him it fared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They for the voyage were prepared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And went to the sea-shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, when they thither came, the youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserted his poor bride, and Ruth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could never find him more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God help thee, Ruth!—Such pains she had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she in half a year was mad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a prison housed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, with many a doleful song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made of wild words, her cup of wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She fearfully caroused.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet sometimes milder hours she knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wanted sun, nor rain, nor dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor pastimes of the May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—They all were with her in her cell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a clear brook with cheerful knell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did o'er the pebbles play.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Ruth three seasons thus had lain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There came a respite to her pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She from her prison fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of the Vagrant none took thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where it liked her best she sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her shelter and her bread.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Among the fields she breathed again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The master-current of her brain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran permanent and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, coming to the banks of Tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There did she rest; and dwell alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the greenwood tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The engines of her pain, the tools<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shaped her sorrow, rocks and pools,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And airs that gently stir<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span><span class="i0">The vernal leaves—she loved them still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever tax'd them with the ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which had been done to her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A barn her Winter bed supplies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, till the warmth of Summer skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Summer days is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(And all do in this tale agree)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sleeps beneath the greenwood tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And other home hath none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An innocent life, yet far astray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Ruth will, long before her day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be broken down and old.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sore aches she needs must have! but less<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mind, than body's wretchedness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From damp, and rain, and cold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If she is prest by want of food<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She from her dwelling in the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repairs to a road-side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there she begs at one steep place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where up and down with easy pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The horsemen-travellers ride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That oaten pipe of hers is mute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or thrown away: but with a flute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her loneliness she cheers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This flute, made of a hemlock stalk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At evening in his homeward walk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Quantock woodman hears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I, too, have pass'd her on the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Setting her little water-mills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By spouts and fountains wild—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such small machinery as she turn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere she had wept, ere she had mourn'd,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A young and happy child!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell! and when thy days are told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ill-fated Ruth! in hallow'd mould<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy corpse shall buried be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee a funeral bell shall ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the congregation sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Christian psalm for thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXXI" id="CCCXXI"></a>CCCXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>WRITTEN AMONG THE EUGANEAN HILLS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Many a green isle needs must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the deep wide sea of Misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the mariner, worn and wan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never thus could voyage on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day and night, and night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drifting on his dreary way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the solid darkness black<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closing round his vessel's track;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst above, the sunless sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Big with clouds, hangs heavily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And behind the tempest fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurries on with lightning feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Riving sail, and cord, and plank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the ship has almost drank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death from the o'er-brimming deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sinks down, down, like that sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the dreamer seems to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weltering through eternity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dim low line before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a dark and distant shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still recedes, as ever still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Longing with divided will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no power to seek or shun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is ever drifted on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the unreposing wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the haven of the grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ah, many flowering islands lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the waters of wide Agony:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To such a one this morn was led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bark, by soft winds piloted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—'Mid the mountains Euganean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stood listening to the paean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which the legion'd rooks did hail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Sun's uprise majestical:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathering round with wings all hoar,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span><span class="i0">Through the dewy mist they soar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like gray shades, till the eastern heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bursts; and then,—as clouds of even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleck'd with fire and azure, lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the unfathomable sky,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So their plumes of purple grain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starr'd with drops of golden rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleam above the sunlight woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in silent multitudes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the morning's fitful gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the broken mist they sail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the vapours cloven and gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follow down the dark steep streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till all is bright, and clear, and still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the solitary hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Beneath is spread like a green sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waveless plain of Lombardy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bounded by the vaporous air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Islanded by cities fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Underneath Day's azure eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ocean's nursling, Venice lies,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A peopled labyrinth of walls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amphitrite's destined halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which her hoary sire now paves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his blue and beaming waves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! the sun upsprings behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the level quivering line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the waters crystalline;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And before that chasm of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As within a furnace bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Column, tower, and dome, and spire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine like obelisks of fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pointing with inconstant motion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the altar of dark ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sapphire-tinted skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the flames of sacrifice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the marble shrines did rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to pierce the dome of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Apollo spoke of old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sun-girt City! thou hast been<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span><span class="i0">Ocean's child, and then his queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now is come a darker day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou soon must be his prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the power that raised thee here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hallow so thy watery bier.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A less drear ruin then than now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thy conquest-branded brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stooping to the slave of slaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy throne among the waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou be,—when the sea-mew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flies, as once before if flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er thine isles depopulate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all is in its ancient state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save where many a palace-gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With green sea-flowers overgrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a rock of ocean's own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Topples o'er the abandon'd sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the tides change sullenly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fisher on his watery way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wandering at the close of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will spread his sail and seize his oar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he pass the gloomy shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest thy dead should, from their sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bursting o'er the starlight deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lead a rapid masque of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the waters of his path.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Noon descends around me now:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the noon of autumn's glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a soft and purple mist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a vaporous amethyst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or an air-dissolvéd star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingling light and fragrance, far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the curved horizon's bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the point of heaven's profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fills the overflowing sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the plains that silent lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Underneath; the leaves unsodden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the infant Frost has trodden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his morning-wingéd feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose bright print is gleaming yet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the red and golden vines<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span><span class="i0">Piercing with their trellised lines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rough, dark-skirted wilderness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dun and bladed grass no less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pointing from this hoary tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the windless air; the flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glimmering at my feet; the line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the olive-sandall'd Apennine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the south dimly islanded;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Alps, whose snows are spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High between the clouds and sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of living things each one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my spirit, which so long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darken'd this swift stream of song,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Interpenetrated lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the glory of the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be it love, light, harmony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Odour, or the soul of all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from heaven like dew doth fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the mind which feeds this verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peopling the lone universe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Noon descends, and after noon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Autumn's evening meets me soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leading the infantine moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that one star, which to her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Almost seems to minister<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half the crimson light she brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the sunset's radiant springs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the soft dreams of the morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Which like wingéd winds had borne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that silent isle, which lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid remember'd agonies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frail bark of this lone being),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass, to other sufferers fleeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its ancient pilot, Pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits beside the helm again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Other flowering isles must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the sea of Life and Agony:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Other spirits float and flee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er that gulf: Ev'n now, perhaps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On some rock the wild wave wraps,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span><span class="i0">With folded wings they waiting sit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my bark, to pilot it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some calm and blooming cove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where for me, and those I love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May a windless bower be built,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from passion, pain, and guilt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a dell 'mid lawny hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the wild sea-murmur fills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soft sunshine, and the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of old forests echoing round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the light and smell divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all flowers that breathe and shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—We may live so happy there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the Spirits of the Air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Envying us, may ev'n entice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To our healing paradise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The polluting multitude:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But their rage would be subdued<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By that clime divine and calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the winds whose wings rain balm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the uplifted soul, and leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under which the bright sea heaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While each breathless interval<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their whisperings musical<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The inspired soul supplies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its own deep melodies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Love which heals all strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Circling, like the breath of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things in that sweet abode<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its own mild brotherhood:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, not it, would change; and soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every sprite beneath the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would repent its envy vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Earth grow young again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXXII" id="CCCXXII"></a>CCCXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE TO THE WEST WIND</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><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> +<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> +<span class="i0">The wingéd 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> +<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> +<span class="i0">Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Destroyer and Preserver; Hear, oh hear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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> +<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> +<span class="i0">Of some fierce Maenad, ev'n 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> +<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> +<span class="i0">Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: Oh hear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thou who didst waken from his summer-dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside a pumice isle in Baiae'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> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span><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> +<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> +<span class="i0">Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tremble and despoil themselves: Oh hear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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="i0">The impulse of thy strength, only less free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Thou, O uncontrollable! If even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I were as in my boyhood, and could be<br /></span> +<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 seem'd a vision,—I would ne'er have striven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! 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> +<span class="i0">A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One too like thee—tameless, and swift, and proud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Make me thy lyre, ev'n 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> +<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="i0">Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, by the incantation of this verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth<br /></span> +<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> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXXIII" id="CCCXXIII"></a>CCCXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>NATURE AND THE POET</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm,<br /> +painted by Sir George Beaumont</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw thee every day; and all the while<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So pure the sky, so quiet was the air!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So like, so very like, was day to day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er I look'd, thy image still was there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It trembled, but it never pass'd away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How perfect was the calm! It seem'd no sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No mood, which season takes away, or brings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could have fancied that the mighty Deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was even the gentlest of all gentle things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! then—if mine had been the painter's hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light that never was on sea or land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The consecration, and the Poet's dream,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would have planted thee, thou hoary pile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid a world how different from this!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou shouldst have seem'd a treasure-house divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very sweetest had to thee been given.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A picture had it been of lasting ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No motion but the moving tide; a breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such, in the fond illusion of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such picture would I at that time have made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seen the soul of truth in every part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A steadfast peace that might not be betray'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So once it would have been,—'tis so no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have submitted to a new control:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A power is gone, which nothing can restore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A deep distress hath humanized my soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for a moment could I now behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A smiling sea, and be what I have been:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, which I know, I speak with mind serene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the friend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This work of thine I blame not, but commend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O 'tis a passionate work!—yet wise and well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well chosen is the spirit that is here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hulk which labours in the deadly swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And this huge Castle, standing here sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love to see the look with which it braves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such happiness, wherever it be known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And frequent sights of what is to be borne!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such sights, or worse, as are before me here:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXXIV" id="CCCXXIV"></a>CCCXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>THE POET'S DREAM</i></h2> + +<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="i2">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="i2">Nurslings of Immortality!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXV" id="CCCXXV"></a>CCCXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>GLEN-ALMAIN, THE NARROW GLEN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In this still place, remote from men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow Glen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this still place, where murmurs on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one meek streamlet, only one:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sang of battles, and the breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of stormy war, and violent death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And should, methinks, when all was past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have rightfully been laid at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rocks were rudely heap'd, and rent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As by a spirit turbulent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sights were rough, and sounds were wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And everything unreconciled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some complaining, dim retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fear and melancholy meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this is calm; there cannot be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A more entire tranquillity.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Does then the Bard sleep here indeed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is it but a groundless creed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What matters it?—I blame them not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fancy in this lonely spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was moved; and in such way express'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their notion of its perfect rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A convent, even a hermit's cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would break the silence of this Dell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not quiet, is not ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But something deeper far than these;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The separation that is here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is of the grave; and of austere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet happy feelings of the dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, therefore, was it rightly said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Ossian, last of all his race!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies buried in this lonely place.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXVI" id="CCCXXVI"></a>CCCXXVI</h2> + +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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-gather'd now like sleeping flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, for every thing, we are out of tune;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<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 wreathéd horn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXXVII" id="CCCXXVII"></a>CCCXXVII</h2> + +<h2><i>WITHIN KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL,<br /> +CAMBRIDGE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ill-match'd aims the Architect who plann'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Albeit labouring for a scanty band<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of white-robed Scholars only) this immense<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And glorious work of fine intelligence!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of nicely-calculated less or more:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So deem'd the man who fashion'd for the sense<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Self-poised, and scoop'd into ten thousand cells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where light and shade repose, where music dwells<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lingering—and wandering on as loth to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they were born for immortality.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXVIII" id="CCCXXVIII"></a>CCCXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE ON A GRECIAN URN</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sylvan historian, who canst thus express<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of deities or mortals, or of both,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In Tempé or the dales of Arcady?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span><span class="i0">Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i4">For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, happy melodist, unweariéd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever piping songs for ever new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More happy love! more happy, happy love!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For ever panting, and for ever young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All breathing human passion far above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who are these coming to the sacrifice?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">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="i2">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="i2">Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, little town, thy streets for evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will silent be; and not a soul to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of marble men and maidens overwrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With forest branches and the trodden weed;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When old age shall this generation waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,'—that is all<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXXIX" id="CCCXXIX"></a>CCCXXIX</h2> + +<h2><i>YOUTH AND AGE</i></h2> + +<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="i4">With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When I was young!<br /></span> +<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 flash'd 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 lived in't together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">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="i6">Ere I was old!<br /></span> +<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 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 alter'd 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> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Dew-drops are the gems of morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the tears of mournful eve!<br /></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="i6">When we are old:<br /></span> +<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 out-stay'd his welcome while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tells the jest without the smile.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>S. T. Coleridge</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXX" id="CCCXXX"></a>CCCXXX</h2> + +<h2><i>THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We walked along, while bright and red<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uprose the morning sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Matthew stopp'd, he look'd, and said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'The will of God be done!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A village schoolmaster was he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hair of glittering gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As blithe a man as you could see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a spring holiday.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And on that morning, through the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by the steaming rills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We travell'd merrily, to pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A day among the hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Our work,' said I, 'was well begun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, from thy breast what thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath so beautiful a sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sad a sigh has brought?'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A second time did Matthew stop;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fixing still his eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the eastern mountain-top,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me he made reply:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Yon cloud with that long purple cleft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings fresh into my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A day like this, which I have left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full thirty years behind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And just above yon slope of corn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such colours, and no other,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were in the sky that April morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this the very brother.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'With rod and line I sued the sport<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which that sweet season gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the church-yard come, stopp'd short<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside my daughter's grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Nine summers had she scarcely seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pride of all the vale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then she sang,—she would have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A very nightingale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Six feet in earth my Emma lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet I loved her more—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For so it seem'd,—than till that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I e'er had loved before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And turning from her grave, I met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the churchyard yew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With points of morning dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'A basket on her head she bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brow was smooth and white:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see a child so very fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a pure delight!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'No fountain from its rocky cave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'er tripp'd with foot so free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seem'd as happy as a wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dances on the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There came from me a sigh of pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I could ill confine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look'd at her, and look'd again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And did not wish her mine!'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Matthew is in his grave, yet now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks I see him stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As at that moment, with a bough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wilding in his hand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXXI" id="CCCXXXI"></a>CCCXXXI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE FOUNTAIN</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>A Conversation</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We talk'd with open heart, and tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affectionate and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pair of friends, though I was young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Matthew seventy-two.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We lay beneath a spreading oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside a mossy seat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the turf a fountain broke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gurgled at our feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Now, Matthew!' said I, 'let us match<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This water's pleasant tune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With some old border-song, or catch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That suits a summer's noon;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Or of the church-clock and the chimes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing here beneath the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That half-mad thing of witty rhymes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which you last April made!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In silence Matthew lay, and eyed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spring beneath the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus the dear old man replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gray-hair'd man of glee:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How merrily it goes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill murmur on a thousand years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flow as now it flows.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And here, on this delightful day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot choose but think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft, a vigorous man, I lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside this fountain's brink.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'My eyes are dim with childish tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is idly stirr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the same sound is in my ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in those days I heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Thus fares it still in our decay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet the wiser mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mourns less for what Age takes away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than what it leaves behind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The blackbird amid leafy trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lark above the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let loose their carols when they please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are quiet when they will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'With Nature never do they wage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A foolish strife; they see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A happy youth, and their old age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is beautiful and free:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'But we are press'd by heavy laws;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often, glad no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We wear a face of joy, because<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have been glad of yore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'If there be one who need bemoan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His kindred laid in earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The household hearts that were his own,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the man of mirth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'My days, my friend, are almost gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life has been approved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many love me; but by none<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am I enough beloved.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Now both himself and me he wrongs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man who thus complains!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I live and sing my idle songs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon these happy plains:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And Matthew, for thy children dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll be a son to thee!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At this he grasp'd my hand and said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Alas! that cannot be.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—We rose up from the fountain-side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the smooth descent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the green sheep-track did we glide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the wood we went;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And ere we came to Leonard's rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sang those witty rhymes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About the crazy old church-clock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bewilder'd chimes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXXII" id="CCCXXXII"></a>CCCXXXII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE RIVER OF LIFE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The more we live, more brief appear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our life's succeeding stages:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A day to childhood seems a year,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And years like passing ages.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gladsome current of our youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere passion yet disorders,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steals lingering like a river smooth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along its grassy borders.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But as the care-worn cheek grows wan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye Stars, that measure life to man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why seem your courses quicker?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When joys have lost their bloom and breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And life itself is vapid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, as we reach the Falls of Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Feel we its tide more rapid?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It may be strange—yet who would change<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time's course to slower speeding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When one by one our friends have gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And left our bosoms bleeding?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heaven gives our years of fading strength<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Indemnifying fleetness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those of youth, a seeming length,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proportion'd to their sweetness.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>T. Campbell</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXXIII" id="CCCXXXIII"></a>CCCXXXIII</h2> + +<h2><i>THE HUMAN SEASONS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are four seasons in the mind of man:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Takes in all beauty with an easy span:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has his Summer, when luxuriously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ruminate, and by such dreaming high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He furleth close; contented so to look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On mists in idleness—to let fair things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else he would forego his mortal nature.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>J. Keats</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXXIV" id="CCCXXXIV"></a>CCCXXXIV</h2> + +<h2><i>A DIRGE</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rough wind, that meanest loud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grief too sad for song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild wind, when sullen cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knells all the night long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad storm whose tears are vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bare woods whose branches stain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep caves and dreary main,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wail for the world's wrong!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXXXV" id="CCCXXXV"></a>CCCXXXV</h2> + +<h2><i>THRENOS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O World! O Life! O Time!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whose last steps I climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trembling at that where I had stood before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When will return the glory of your prime?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No more—Oh, never more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of the day and night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A joy has taken flight:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No more—Oh, never more!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXXVI" id="CCCXXXVI"></a>CCCXXXVI</h2> + +<h2><i>THE TROSACHS</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's not a nook within this solemn Pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But were an apt confessional for One<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Life is but a tale of morning grass<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wither'd at eve. From scenes of art which chase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Untouch'd, unbreathed upon:—Thrice happy quest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If from a golden perch of aspen spray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(October's workmanship to rival May),<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CCCXXXVII" id="CCCXXXVII"></a>CCCXXXVII</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart leaps up when I behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A rainbow in the sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So was it when my life began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So is it now I am a man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So be it when I shall grow old<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or let me die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Child is father of the Man:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I could wish my days to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound each to each by natural piety.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXXVIII" id="CCCXXXVIII"></a>CCCXXXVIII</h2> + +<h2><i>ODE ON INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY<br /> +FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY<br /> +CHILDHOOD</i></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth, and every common sight<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To me did seem<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Apparell'd 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="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="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="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="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></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="i4">And with the heart of May<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth every beast keep holiday;—<br /></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="i0">Ye blesséd 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="i4">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="i6">Oh evil day! if I were sullen<br /></span> +<span class="i6">While Earth herself is adorning<br /></span> +<span class="i8">This sweet May-morning;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And the children are culling<br /></span> +<span class="i8">On every side<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In a thousand valleys far and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">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="i6">I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">—But there's a tree, of many, one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A single field which I have look'd upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both of them speak of something that is gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The pansy at my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i8">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="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="i4">Hath had elsewhere its setting<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And cometh from afar;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></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="i6">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="i6">Upon the growing Boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">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="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="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="i6">And no unworthy aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The homely nurse doth all she can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">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="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="i0">Some fragment from his dream of human life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaped by himself with newly-learnéd art;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A wedding or a festival,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A mourning or a funeral;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And this hath now his heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And unto this he frames his song:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">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="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></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="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="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="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> +</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="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></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 realized,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High instincts, before which our mortal nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did tremble like a guilty thing surprized:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But for those first affections,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those shadowy recollections,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i6">Which brought us hither;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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> +</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="i2">We, in thought, will join your throng<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye that pipe and ye that play,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ye that through your hearts to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">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="i2">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="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></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> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forbode 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 relinquish'd 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 tripp'd 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> + +<p class="p1"><i>W. Wordsworth</i></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="CCCXXXIX" id="CCCXXXIX"></a>CCCXXXIX</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Music, when soft voices die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vibrates in the memory—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Odours, when sweet violets sicken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live within the sense they quicken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are heap'd for the beloved's bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so thy thoughts, when Thou art gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love itself shall slumber on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1"><i>P. B. Shelley</i></p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>End of the Golden Treasury</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="NOTES" id="NOTES"></a>NOTES</h2> + +<h2>INDEX OF WRITERS</h2> + +<h5>AND</h5> +<h2>INDEX OF FIRST LINES</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p> +<h2>NOTES</h2> + +<h3>(1861—1891)</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><i>Summary of Book First</i></h3> +<p>The Elizabethan Poetry, as it is rather vaguely termed, forms the +substance of this Book, which contains pieces from Wyat under Henry +VIII to Shakespeare midway through the reign of James I, and Drummond +who carried on the early manner to a still later period. There is here +a wide range of style;—from simplicity expressed in a language hardly +yet broken-in to verse,—through the pastoral fancies and Italian +conceits of the strictly Elizabethan time,—to the passionate reality +of Shakespeare: yet a general uniformity of tone prevails. Few readers +can fail to observe the natural sweetness of the verse, the +single-hearted straightforwardness of the thoughts:—nor less, the +limitation of subject to the many phases of one passion, which then +characterized our lyrical poetry,—unless when, as in especial with +Shakespeare, the 'purple light of Love' is tempered by a spirit of +sterner reflection. For the didactic verse of the century, although +lyrical in form, yet very rarely rises to the pervading emotion, the +golden cadence, proper to the lyric.</p> + +<p>It should be observed that this and the following Summaries apply in +the main to the Collection here presented, in which (besides its +restriction to Lyrical Poetry) a strictly representative or historical +Anthology has not been aimed at. Great excellence, in human art as in +human character, has from the beginning of things been even more +uniform than mediocrity, by virtue of the closeness of its approach to +Nature:—and so far as the standard of Excellence kept in view has +been attained in this volume, a comparative absence of extreme or +temporary phases in style, a similarity of tone and manner, will be +found throughout:—something neither modern nor ancient, but true and +speaking to the heart of man alike throughout all ages.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap f1">page no.</span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_2">2</a> 3 <i>whist</i>: hushed, quieted.</p> + +<p>— 4 <i>Rouse Memnon's mother</i>: Awaken the Dawn from the dark Earth and +the clouds where she is resting. This is one of that limited class of +early mythes which may be reasonably interpreted as representations of +natural phenomena. Aurora in the old mythology is mother of Memnon +(the East), and wife of Tithonus (the appearances of Earth and Sky +during the last hours of Night). She leaves him every morning in +renewed youth, to prepare the way for Phoebus (the Sun), whilst +Tithonus remains in perpetual old age and grayness.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_3">3</a> — l. 23 <i>by Peneus' stream</i>: Phoebus loved the Nymph Daphne whom he +met by the river Peneus in the vale of Tempe. L. 27 <i>Amphion's lyre</i>: +He was said to have built the walls of Thebes to the sound of his +music. L. 35 <i>Night like a drunkard reels</i>: Compare Romeo and Juliet, +Act II, Scene 3: 'The grey-eyed morn smiles,' &c.—It should be added +that three lines, which appeared hopelessly misprinted, have been +omitted in this Poem.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_4">4</a> 6 <i>Time's chest</i>: in which he is figuratively supposed to lay up +past treasures. So in Troilus, Act III, Scene 3, 'Time hath a wallet +at his back' &c. In the <i>Arcadia</i>, <i>chest</i> is used to signify <i>tomb</i>.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_5">5</a> 7 A fine example of the high wrought and conventional Elizabethan +Pastoralism, which it would be unreasonable to criticize on the ground +of the unshepherdlike or unreal character of some images suggested. +Stanza 6 was perhaps inserted by Izaak Walton.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_6">6</a> 8 This beautiful lyric is one of several recovered from the very +rare Elizabethan Song-books, for the publication of which our thanks +are due to Mr. A. H. Bullen (1887, 1888).</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_8">8</a> 12 One stanza has been here omitted, in accordance with the +principle noticed in the Preface. Similar omissions occur in a few +other poems. The more serious abbreviation by which it has been +attempted to bring Crashaw's 'Wishes' and Shelley's 'Euganean Hills,' +with one or two more, within the scheme of this selection, is +commended with much diffidence to the judgment of readers acquainted +with the original pieces.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_9">9</a> 13 Sidney's poetry is singularly unequal; his short life, his +frequent absorption in public employment, hindered doubtless the +development of his genius. His great contemporary fame, second only, +it appears, to Spenser's, has been hence obscured. At times he is +heavy and even prosaic; his simplicity is rude and bare; his verse +unmelodious. These, however, are the 'defects of his merits.' In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> a +certain depth and chivalry of feeling,—in the rare and noble quality +of disinterestedness (to put it in one word),—he has no superior, +hardly perhaps an equal, amongst our Poets; and after or beside +Shakespeare's Sonnets, his <i>Astrophel and Stella</i>, in the Editor's +judgment, offers the most intense and powerful picture of the passion +of love in the whole range of our poetry.—<i>Hundreds of years</i>: 'The +very rapture of love,' says Mr. Ruskin; 'A lover like this does not +believe his mistress can grow old or die.'</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_12">12</a> 19 Readers who have visited Italy will be reminded of more than one +picture by this gorgeous Vision of Beauty, equally sublime and pure in +its Paradisaical naturalness. Lodge wrote it on a voyage to 'the +Islands of Terceras and the Canaries;' and he seems to have caught, in +those southern seas, no small portion of the qualities which marked +the almost contemporary Art of Venice,—the glory and the glow of +Veronese, Titian, or Tintoret.—From the same romance is No. 71: a +charming picture in the purest style of the later Italian Renaissance.</p> + +<p><i>The clear</i> (l. 1) is the crystalline or outermost heaven of the old +cosmography. <i>For a fair there's fairer none</i>: If you desire a Beauty, +there is none more beautiful than Rosaline.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_14">14</a> 22 Another gracious lyric from an Elizabethan Song-book, first +reprinted (it is believed) in Mr. W. J. Linton's 'Rare Poems,' in +1883.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_15">15</a> 23 <i>that fair thou owest</i>: that beauty thou ownest.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_16">16</a> 25 From one of the three Song-books of T. Campion, who appears to +have been author of the words which he set to music. His merit as a +lyrical poet (recognized in his own time, but since then forgotten) +has been again brought to light by Mr. Bullen's taste and +research:—<i>swerving</i> (st. 2) is his conjecture for <i>changing</i> in the +text of 1601.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_20">20</a> 31 <i>the star Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken</i>: +apparently, Whose stellar influence is uncalculated, although his +angular altitude from the plane of the astrolabe or artificial horizon +used by astrologers has been determined.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_20">20</a> 32 This lovely song appears, as here given, in Puttenham's 'Arte of +English Poesie,' 1589. A longer and inferior form was published in the +'Arcadia' of 1590: but Puttenham's prefatory words clearly assign his +version to Sidney's own authorship.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_23">23</a> 37 <i>keel</i>: keep cooler by stirring round.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_24">24</a> 39 <i>expense</i>: loss.</p> + +<p>— 40 <i>prease</i>: press.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_25">25</a> 41 <i>Nativity, once in the main of light</i>: when a star has risen and +entered on the full stream of light;—another of the astrological +phrases no longer familiar.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Crooked</i> eclipses: as coming athwart the Sun's apparent course.</p> + +<p>Wordsworth, thinking probably of the 'Venus' and the 'Lucrece,' said +finely of Shakespeare: 'Shakespeare <i>could</i> not have written an Epic; +he would have died of plethora of thought.' This prodigality of nature +is exemplified equally in his Sonnets. The copious selection here +given (which from the wealth of the material, required greater +consideration than any other portion of the Editor's task),—contains +many that will not be fully felt and understood without some +earnestness of thought on the reader's part. But he is not likely to +regret the labour.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_26">26</a> 42 <i>upon misprision growing</i>: either, granted in error, or, on the +growth of contempt.</p> + +<p>— 43 With the tone of this Sonnet compare Hamlet's 'Give me that man +That is not passion's slave' &c. Shakespeare's writings show the +deepest sensitiveness to passion:—hence the attraction he felt in the +contrasting effects of apathy.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_26">26</a> 44 <i>grame</i>: sorrow. Renaissance influences long impeded the return +of English poets to the charming realism of this and a few other poems +by Wyat.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_28">28</a> 45 Pandion in the ancient fable was father to Philomela.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_29">29</a> 47 In the old legend it is now Philomela, now Procne (the swallow) +who suffers violence from Tereus. This song has a fascination in its +calm intensity of passion; that 'sad earnestness and vivid exactness' +which Cardinal Newman ascribes to the master-pieces of ancient poetry.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_31">31</a> 50 <i>proved</i>: approved.</p> + +<p>— 51 <i>censures</i>: judges.</p> + +<p>— 52 Exquisite in its equably-balanced metrical flow.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_32">32</a> 53 Judging by its style, this beautiful example of old simplicity +and feeling may, perhaps, be referred to the earlier years of +Elizabeth. <i>Late</i> forgot: lately.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_35">35</a> 57 Printed in a little Anthology by Nicholas Breton, 1597. It is, +however, a stronger and finer piece of work than any known to be +his.—St. 1 <i>silly</i>: simple; <i>dole</i>: grief; <i>chief</i>: chiefly. St. 3 +<i>If there be</i> ...: obscure: Perhaps, if there be any who speak harshly +of thee, thy pain may plead for pity from Fate.</p> + +<p>This poem, with 60 and 143, are each graceful variations of a long +popular theme.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_36">36</a> 58 <i>That busy archer:</i> Cupid. <i>Descries</i>: used actively; <i>points +out</i>.—'The last line of this poem is a little obscured by +transposition. He means, <i>Do they call ungratefulness there a +virtue?</i>' (C. Lamb).</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_37">37</a> 59 <i>White Iope</i>: suggested, Mr. Bullen notes, by a passage in +Propertius (iii, 20) describing Spirits in the lower world:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vobiscum est Iope, vobiscum candida Tyro.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></div></div> + +<p><a href="#Page_38">38</a> 62 <i>cypres</i> or cyprus,—used by the old writers for <i>crape</i>: +whether from the French <i>crespe</i> or from the Island whence it was +imported. Its accidental similarity in spelling to <i>cypress</i> has, here +and in Milton's Penseroso, probably confused readers.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_39">39</a> 63 <i>ramage</i>: confused noise.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_41">41</a> 66 'I never saw anything like this funeral dirge,' says Charles +Lamb, 'except the ditty which reminds Ferdinand of his drowned father +in the Tempest. As that is of the water, watery; so this is of the +earth, earthy. Both have that intenseness of feeling, which seems to +resolve itself into the element which it contemplates.'</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_43">43</a> 70 Paraphrased from an Italian madrigal</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">... Non so conoscer poi<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Se voi le rose, o sian le rose in voi.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><a href="#Page_44">44</a> 72 <i>crystal</i>: fairness.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_45">45</a> 73 <i>stare</i>: starling.</p> + +<p>— 74 This 'Spousal Verse' was written in honour of the Ladies +Elizabeth and Katherine Somerset. Nowhere has Spenser more +emphatically displayed himself as the very poet of Beauty: The +Renaissance impulse in England is here seen at its highest and purest.</p> + +<p>The genius of Spenser, like Chaucer's, does itself justice only in +poems of some length. Hence it is impossible to represent it in this +volume by other pieces of equal merit, but of impracticable +dimensions. And the same applies to such poems as the <i>Lover's Lament</i> +or the <i>Ancient Mariner</i>.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_46">46</a> — <i>entrailed</i>: twisted. Feateously: elegantly.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_48">48</a> — <i>shend</i>: shame.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_49">49</a> — <i>a noble peer</i>: Robert Devereux, second Lord Essex, then at the +height of his brief triumph after taking Cadiz: hence the allusion +following to the Pillars of Hercules, placed near Gades by ancient +legend.</p> + +<p>— — <i>Elisa</i>: Elizabeth.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_50">50</a> — <i>twins of Jove</i>: the stars Castor and Pollux: <i>baldric</i>, belt; +the zodiac.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_52">52</a> 79 This lyric may with very high probability be assigned to +Campion, in whose first Book of Airs it appeared (1601). The evidence +sometimes quoted ascribing it to Lord Bacon appears to be valueless.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3><i>Summary of Book Second.</i></h3> + +<p>This division, embracing generally the latter eighty years of the +Seventeenth century, contains the close of our Early poetical style +and the commencement of the Modern. In Dryden we see the first master +of the new: in Milton, whose genius dominates here as Shakespeare's in +the former book,—the crown and consummation of the early period. +Their splendid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> Odes are far in advance of any prior attempts, +Spenser's excepted: they exhibit that wider and grander range which +years and experience and the struggles of the time conferred on +Poetry. Our Muses now give expression to political feeling, to +religious thought, to a high philosophic statesmanship in writers such +as Marvell, Herbert, and Wotton: whilst in Marvell and Milton, again, +we find noble attempts, hitherto rare in our literature, at pure +description of nature, destined in our own age to be continued and +equalled. Meanwhile the poetry of simple passion, although before 1660 +often deformed by verbal fancies and conceits of thought, and +afterwards by levity and an artificial tone,—produced in Herrick and +Waller some charming pieces of more finished art than the Elizabethan: +until in the courtly compliments of Sedley it seems to exhaust itself, +and lie almost dormant for the hundred years between the days of +Wither and Suckling and the days of Burns and Cowper.—That the change +from our early style to the modern brought with it at first a loss of +nature and simplicity is undeniable; yet the bolder and wider scope +which Poetry took between 1620 and 1700, and the successful efforts +then made to gain greater clearness in expression, in their results +have been no slight compensation.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="smcap f1">page no.</span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_58">58</a> 85 l. 8 <i>whist</i>: hushed.</p> + +<p>— — l. 32 <i>than</i>: obsolete for <i>then</i>: <i>Pan</i>: used here for the Lord +of all.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_59">59</a> — l. 38 <i>consort</i>: Milton's spelling of this word, here and +elsewhere, has been followed, as it is uncertain whether he used it in +the sense of <i>accompanying</i>, or simply for <i>concert</i>.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_61">61</a> — l. 21 <i>Lars and Lemures</i>: household gods and spirits of +relations dead. <i>Flamens</i> (l. 24) Roman priests. <i>That twice-batter'd +god</i> (l. 29) Dagon.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_62">62</a> — l. 6 <i>Osiris</i>, the Egyptian god of Agriculture (here, perhaps by +confusion with Apis, figured as a Bull), was torn to pieces by Typho and +embalmed after death in a sacred chest. This mythe, reproduced in Syria +and Greece in the legends of Thammuz, Adonis, and perhaps Absyrtus, may +have originally signified the annual death of the Sun or the Year under +the influences of the winter darkness. Horus, the son of Osiris, as the +New Year, in his turn overcomes Typho. L. 8 <i>unshower'd</i> grass: as watered +by the Nile only. L. 33 <i>youngest-teemed</i>: last-born. <i>Bright-harness'd</i> +(l. 37) armoured.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_64">64</a> 87 <i>The Late Massacre</i>: the Vaudois persecution, carried on in 1655 +by the Duke of Savoy. No more mighty Sonnet than this 'collect in +verse,' as it has been justly named, probably can be found in any +language. Readers should observe that it is constructed on the +original Italian or Provençal model. This form, in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> language such as +ours, not affluent in rhyme, presents great difficulties; the rhymes +are apt to be forced, or the substance commonplace. But, when +successfully handled, it has a unity and a beauty of effect which +place the strict Sonnet above the less compact and less lyrical +systems adopted by Shakespeare, Sidney, Spenser, and other Elizabethan +poets.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_65">65</a> 88 Cromwell returned from Ireland in 1650, and Marvell probably +wrote his lines soon after, whilst living at Nunappleton in the +Fairfax household. It is hence not surprising that (st. 21-24) he +should have been deceived by Cromwell's professed submissiveness to +the Parliament which, when it declined to register his decrees, he +expelled by armed violence:—one despotism, by natural law, replacing +another. The poet's insight has, however, truly prophesied that result +in his last two lines.</p> + +<p>This Ode, beyond doubt one of the finest in our language, and more in +Milton's style than has been reached by any other poet, is +occasionally obscure from imitation of the condensed Latin syntax. The +meaning of st. 5 is 'rivalry or hostility are the same to a lofty +spirit, and limitation more hateful than opposition.' The allusion in +st. 11 is to the old physical doctrines of the non-existence of a +vacuum and the impenetrability of matter:—in st. 17 to the omen +traditionally connected with the foundation of the Capitol at +Rome:—<i>forced</i>, fated. The ancient belief that certain years in life +complete natural periods and are hence peculiarly exposed to death, is +introduced in st. 26 by the word <i>climacteric</i>.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_68">68</a> 89 <i>Lycidas</i>: The person here lamented is Milton's college +contemporary, Edward King, drowned in 1637 whilst crossing from +Chester to Ireland.</p> + +<p>Strict Pastoral Poetry was first written or perfected by the Dorian +Greeks settled in Sicily: but the conventional use of it, exhibited +more magnificently in <i>Lycidas</i> than in any other pastoral, is +apparently of Roman origin. Milton, employing the noble freedom of a +great artist, has here united ancient mythology, with what may be +called the modern mythology of Camus and Saint Peter,—to direct +Christian images. Yet the poem, if it gains in historical interest, +suffers in poetry by the harsh intrusion of the writer's narrow and +violent theological politics.—The metrical structure of this glorious +elegy is partly derived from Italian models.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_69">69</a> — l. 11 <i>Sisters of the sacred well</i>: the Muses, said to frequent +the Pierian Spring at the foot of Mount Olympus.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_70">70</a> — l. 10 <i>Mona</i>: Anglesea, called by the Welsh poets, the Dark +Island, from its dense forests. <i>Deva</i> (l. 11) the Dee: a river which +may have derived its magical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> character from Celtic traditions: it was +long the boundary of Briton and English.—These places are introduced, +as being near the scene of the shipwreck. <i>Orpheus</i> (l. 14) was torn +to pieces by Thracian women. <i>Amaryllis</i> and <i>Neaera</i> (l. 24, 25) +names used here for the love-idols of poets: as <i>Damoetas</i> previously +for a shepherd. L. 31 <i>the blind Fury</i>: Atropos, fabled to cut the +thread of life.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_71">71</a> 89 <i>Arethuse</i> (l. 1) and <i>Mincius</i>: Sicilian and Italian waters +here alluded to as representing the pastoral poetry of Theocritus and +Vergil. L. 4 <i>oat</i>: pipe, used here like Collins' <i>oaten stop</i> l. 1, +No. 186, for <i>Song</i>. L. 12 <i>Hippotades</i>: Aeolus, god of the Winds. +<i>Panope</i> (l. 15) a Nereid. Certain names of local deities in the +Hellenic mythology render some feature in the natural landscape, which +the Greeks studied and analysed with their usual unequalled insight +and feeling. <i>Panope</i> seems to express the boundlessness of the +ocean-horizon when seen from a height, as compared with the limited +sky-line of the land in hilly countries such as Greece or Asia Minor. +<i>Camus</i> (l. 19) the Cam: put for King's University. <i>The sanguine +flower</i> (l. 22) the Hyacinth of the ancients: probably our Iris. <i>The +Pilot</i> (l. 25) Saint Peter, figuratively introduced as the head of the +Church on earth, to foretell 'the ruin of our corrupted clergy,' as +Milton regarded them, 'then in their heighth' under Laud's primacy.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_72">72</a> — l. 1 <i>scrannel</i>: screeching; apparently Milton's coinage +(Masson). L. 5 <i>the wolf</i>: the Puritans of the time were excited to +alarm and persecution by a few conversions to Roman Catholicism which +had recently occurred. <i>Alpheus</i> (l. 9) a stream in Southern Greece, +supposed to flow underseas to join the Arethuse. <i>Swart star</i> (l. 15) +the Dog-star, called swarthy because its heliacal rising in ancient +times occurred soon after midsummer: l. 19 <i>rathe</i>: early. L. 36 +<i>moist vows</i>: either tearful prayers, or prayers for one at sea. +<i>Bellerus</i> (l. 37) a giant, apparently created here by Milton to +personify Belerium, the ancient title of the Land's End. <i>The great +Vision</i>:—the story was that the Archangel Michael had appeared on the +rock by Marazion in Mount's Bay which bears his name. Milton calls on +him to turn his eyes from the south homeward, and to pity Lycidas, if +his body has drifted into the troubled waters off the Land's End. +Finisterre being the land due south of Marazion, two places in that +district (then through our trade with Corunna probably less unfamiliar +to English ears), are named,—<i>Namancos</i> now Mujio in Galicia, +<i>Bayona</i> north of the Minho, or perhaps a fortified rock (one of the +<i>Cies</i> Islands) not unlike Saint Michael's Mount, at the entrance of +Vigo Bay.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_73">73</a> 89 l. 6 <i>ore</i>: rays of golden light. <i>Doric</i> lay (l. 25) Sicilian, +pastoral.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_75">75</a> 93 <i>The assault</i> was an attack on London expected in 1642, when the +troops of Charles I reached Brentford. 'Written on his door' was in +the original title of this sonnet. Milton was then living in +Aldersgate Street.</p> + +<p><i>The Emathian Conqueror</i>: When Thebes was destroyed (<span class="smcap">B.C.</span> 335) and the +citizens massacred by thousands, Alexander ordered the house of Pindar +to be spared.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_76">76</a> — l. 2, <i>the repeated air Of sad Electra's poet</i>: Plutarch has a +tale that when the Spartan confederacy in 404 B.C. took Athens, a +proposal to demolish it was rejected through the effect produced on +the commanders by hearing part of a chorus from the <i>Electra</i> of +Euripides sung at a feast. There is however no apparent congruity +between the lines quoted (167, 168 Ed. Dindorf) and the result +ascribed to them.</p> + +<p>— 95 A fine example of a peculiar class of Poetry;—that written by +thoughtful men who practised this Art but little. Jeremy Taylor, +Bishop Berkeley, Dr. Johnson, Lord Macaulay, have left similar +specimens.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_78">78</a> 98 These beautiful verses should be compared with Wordsworth's +great Ode on <i>Immortality</i>: and a copy of Vaughan's very rare little +volume appears in the list of Wordsworth's library.—In imaginative +intensity, Vaughan stands beside his contemporary Marvell.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_79">79</a> 99 <i>Favonius</i>: the spring wind.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_80">80</a> 100 <i>Themis</i>: the goddess of justice. Skinner was grandson by his +mother to Sir E. Coke:—hence, as pointed out by Mr. Keightley, +Milton's allusion to the <i>bench</i>. L. 8: Sweden was then at war with +Poland, and France with the Spanish Netherlands.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_82">82</a> 103 l. 28 <i>Sidneian showers</i>: either in allusion to the +conversations in the 'Arcadia,' or to Sidney himself as a model of +'gentleness' in spirit and demeanour.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_85">85</a> 105 Delicate humour, delightfully united to thought, at once simple +and subtle. It is full of conceit and paradox, but these are +imaginative, not as with most of our Seventeenth Century poets, +intellectual only.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_88">88</a> 110 <i>Elizabeth of Bohemia</i>: Daughter to James I, and ancestor of +Sophia of Hanover. These lines are a fine specimen of gallant and +courtly compliment.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_89">89</a> 111 Lady M. Ley was daughter to Sir J. Ley, afterwards Earl of +Marlborough, who died March, 1629, coincidently with the dissolution +of the third Parliament of Charles' reign. Hence Milton poetically +compares his death to that of the Orator Isocrates of Athens, after +Philip's victory in 328 B.C.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_93">93</a> 118 A masterpiece of humour, grace, and gentle feeling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> all, with +Herrick's unfailing art, kept precisely within the peculiar key which +he chose,—or Nature for him,—in his Pastorals. L. 2 <i>the god +unshorn</i>: Imberbis Apollo. St. 2 <i>beads</i>: prayers.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_96">96</a> 123 With better taste, and less diffuseness, Quarles might (one +would think) have retained more of that high place which he held in +popular estimate among his contemporaries.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_99">99</a> 127 <i>From Prison</i>: to which his active support of Charles I twice +brought the high-spirited writer. L. 7 <i>Gods</i>: thus in the original; +Lovelace, in his fanciful way, making here a mythological allusion. +<i>Birds</i>, commonly substituted, is without authority. St. 3, l. 1 +<i>committed</i>: to prison.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_100">100</a> 128 St. 2 l. 4 <i>blue-god</i>: Neptune.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_104">104</a> 133 <i>Waly waly</i>: an exclamation of sorrow, the root and the +pronunciation of which are preserved in the word <i>caterwaul</i>. <i>Brae</i>, +hillside: <i>burn</i>, brook: <i>busk</i>, adorn. <i>Saint Anton's Well</i>: below +Arthur's Seat by Edinburgh. <i>Cramasie</i>, crimson.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_105">105</a> 134 This beautiful example of early simplicity is found in a +Song-book of 1620.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_106">106</a> 135 <i>burd</i>, maiden.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_107">107</a> 136 <i>corbies</i>, crows: <i>fail</i>, turf: <i>hause</i>, neck: <i>theek</i>, +thatch.—If not in their origin, in their present form this, with the +preceding poem and 133, appear due to the Seventeenth Century, and +have therefore been placed in Book II.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_108">108</a> 137 The poetical and the prosaic, after Cowley's fashion, blend +curiously in this deeply-felt elegy.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_112">112</a> 141 Perhaps no poem in this collection is more delicately fancied, +more exquisitely finished. By placing his description of the Fawn in a +young girl's mouth, Marvell has, as it were, legitimated that +abundance of 'imaginative hyperbole' to which he is always partial: he +makes us feel it natural that a maiden's favourite should be whiter +than milk, sweeter than sugar—'lilies without, roses within,' The +poet's imagination is justified in its seeming extravagance by the +intensity and unity with which it invests his picture.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_113">113</a> 142 The remark quoted in the note to No. 65 applies equally to +these truly wonderful verses. Marvell here throws himself into the +very soul of the <i>Garden</i> with the imaginative intensity of Shelley in +his <i>West Wind</i>.—This poem appears also as a translation in Marvell's +works. The most striking verses in it, here quoted as the book is +rare, answer more or less to stanzas 2 and 6:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alma Quies, teneo te! et te, germana Quietis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simplicitas! vos ergo diu per templa, per urbes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quaesivi, regum perque alta palatia, frustra:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sed vos hortorum per opaca silentia, longe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Celarunt plantae virides, et concolor umbra.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> +</p> +<p><a href="#Page_115">115</a> 143 St. 3 <i>tutties</i>: nosegays. St. 4 <i>silly</i>: simple.</p> + +<p><i>L'Allégro</i> and <i>Il Penseroso</i>. It is a striking proof of Milton's +astonishing power, that these, the earliest great Lyrics of the +Landscape in our language, should still remain supreme in their style +for range, variety, and melodious beauty. The Bright and the +Thoughtful aspects of Nature and of Life are their subjects: but each +is preceded by a mythological introduction in a mixed Classical and +Italian manner.—With that of <i>L'Allégro</i> may be compared a similar +mythe in the first Section of the first Book of S. Marmion's graceful +<i>Cupid and Psyche</i>, 1637.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_116">116</a> 144 <i>The mountain-nymph</i>; compare Wordsworth's Sonnet, No. 254. L. +38 is in <i>apposition</i> to the preceding, by a syntactical license not +uncommon with Milton.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_118">118</a> — l. 14 <i>Cynosure</i>; the Pole Star. <i>Corydon</i>, <i>Thyrsis</i>, &c.: +Shepherd names from the old Idylls. <i>Rebeck</i> (l. 28) an elementary +form of violin.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_119">119</a> — l. 24 <i>Jonson's learned sock</i>: His comedies are deeply coloured +by classical study. L. 28 <i>Lydian airs</i>: used here to express a light +and festive style of ancient music. The 'Lydian Mode,' one of the +seven original Greek Scales, is nearly identical with our 'Major.'</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_120">120</a> 145 l. 3 <i>bestead</i>: avail. L. 10 <i>starr'd Ethiop queen</i>: +Cassiopeia, the legendary Queen of Ethiopia, and thence translated +amongst the constellations.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_121">121</a> — <i>Cynthia</i>: the Moon: Milton seems here to have transferred to +her chariot the dragons anciently assigned to Demeter and to Medea.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_122">122</a> — <i>Hermes</i>, called Trismegistus, a mystical writer of the +Neo-Platonist school. L. 27 <i>Thebes</i>, &c.: subjects of Athenian +Tragedy. <i>Buskin'd</i> (l. 30) tragic, in opposition to sock above. L. 32 +<i>Musaeus</i>: a poet in Mythology. L. 37 <i>him that left half-told</i>: +Chaucer in his incomplete 'Squire's Tale.'</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_123">123</a> — <i>great bards</i>: Ariosto, Tasso, and Spenser, are here presumably +intended. L. 9 <i>frounced</i>: curled. <i>The Attic Boy</i> (l. 10) Cephalus.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_124">124</a> 146 Emigrants supposed to be driven towards America by the +government of Charles I.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_125">125</a> — l. 9, 10. <i>But apples</i>, &c. A fine example of Marvell's +imaginative hyperbole.</p> + +<p>— 147 l. 6 <i>concent</i>: harmony.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_128">128</a> 149 A lyric of a strange, fanciful, yet solemn beauty:—Cowley's +style intensified by the mysticism of Henry More.—St. 2 <i>monument</i>: +the World.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_129">129</a> 151 Entitled 'A Song in Honour of St. Cecilia's Day: 1697.'</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span></p> + +<h3><i>Summary of Book Third</i></h3> + +<p>It is more difficult to characterize the English Poetry of the +Eighteenth century than that of any other. For it was an age not only +of spontaneous transition, but of bold experiment: it includes not +only such absolute contrasts as distinguish the 'Rape of the Lock' +from the 'Parish Register,' but such vast contemporaneous differences +as lie between Pope and Collins, Burns and Cowper. Yet we may clearly +trace three leading moods or tendencies:—the aspects of courtly or +educated life represented by Pope and carried to exhaustion by his +followers; the poetry of Nature and of Man, viewed through a +cultivated, and at the same time an impassioned frame of mind by +Collins and Gray:—lastly, the study of vivid and simple narrative, +including natural description, begun by Gay and Thomson, pursued by +Burns and others in the north, and established in England by +Goldsmith, Percy, Crabbe, and Cowper. Great varieties in style +accompanied these diversities in aim: poets could not always +distinguish the manner suitable for subjects so far apart: and the +union of conventional and of common language, exhibited most +conspicuously by Burns, has given a tone to the poetry of that century +which is better explained by reference to its historical origin than +by naming it artificial. There is, again, a nobleness of thought, a +courageous aim at high and, in a strict sense manly, excellence in +many of the writers:—nor can that period be justly termed tame and +wanting in originality, which produced poems such as Pope's Satires, +Gray's Odes and Elegy, the ballads of Gay and Carey, the songs of +Burns and Cowper. In truth Poetry at this, as at all times, was a more +or less unconscious mirror of the genius of the age: and the many +complex causes which made the Eighteenth century the turning-time in +modern European civilization are also more or less reflected in its +verse. An intelligent reader will find the influence of Newton as +markedly in the poems of Pope, as of Elizabeth in the plays of +Shakespeare. On this great subject, however, these indications must +here be sufficient.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="smcap f1">page no.</span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_134">134</a> 153 We have no poet more marked by rapture, by the ecstasy which +Plato held the note of genuine inspiration, than Collins. Yet but +twice or thrice do his lyrics reach that simplicity, that <i>sinceram +sermonis Attici gratiam</i> to which this ode testifies his enthusiastic +devotion. His style, as his friend Dr. Johnson truly remarks, was +obscure; his diction often harsh and unskilfully laboured; he +struggles nobly against the narrow, artificial manner of his age, but +his too scanty years did not allow him to reach perfect mastery.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> St. +3 <i>Hybla</i>: near Syracuse. <i>Her whose ... woe</i>: the nightingale, 'for +which Sophocles seems to have entertained a peculiar fondness'; +Collins here refers to the famous chorus in the <i>Oedipus at Colonus</i>. +St. 4 <i>Cephisus</i>: the stream encircling Athens on the north and west, +passing Colonus. St. 6 <i>stay'd to sing</i>: stayed her song when Imperial +tyranny was established at Rome. St. 7 refers to the Italian amourist +poetry of the Renaissance: In Collins' day, Dante was almost unknown +in England. St. 8 <i>meeting soul</i>: which moves sympathetically towards +Simplicity as she comes to inspire the poet. St. 9 <i>Of these</i>: Taste +and Genius.</p> + +<p><i>The Bard.</i> In 1757, when this splendid ode was completed, so very +little had been printed, whether in Wales or in England, in regard to +Welsh poetry, that it is hard to discover whence Gray drew his Cymric +allusions. The fabled massacre of the Bards (shown to be wholly +groundless in Stephens' <i>Literature of the Kymry</i>) appears first in +the family history of Sir John Wynn of Gwydir (cir. 1600), not +published till 1773; but the story seems to have passed in MS. to +Carte's History, whence it may have been taken by Gray. The references +to <i>high-born Hoel</i> and <i>soft Llewellyn</i>; to <i>Cadwallo</i> and <i>Urien</i>; +may, similarly, have been derived from the 'Specimens' of early Welsh +poetry, by the Rev. E. Evans:—as, although not published till 1764, +the MS., we learn from a letter to Dr. Wharton, was in Gray's hands by +July 1760, and may have reached him by 1757. It is, however, doubtful +whether Gray (of whose acquaintance with Welsh we have no evidence) +must not have been also aided by some Welsh scholar. He is one of the +poets least likely to scatter epithets at random: 'soft' or gentle is +the epithet emphatically and specially given to Llewelyn in +contemporary Welsh poetry, and is hence here used with particular +propriety. Yet, without such assistance as we have suggested, Gray +could hardly have selected the epithet, although applied to the King +(p. 141-3) among a crowd of others, in Llygad Gwr's Ode, printed by +Evans.—After lamenting his comrades (st. 2, 3) the Bard prophesies +the fate of Edward II, and the conquests of Edward III (4): his death +and that of the Black Prince (5): of Richard II, with the wars of York +and Lancaster, the murder of Henry VI (<i>the meek usurper</i>), and of +Edward V and his brother (6). He turns to the glory and prosperity +following the accession of the Tudors (7), through Elizabeth's reign +(8): and concludes with a vision of the poetry of Shakespeare and +Milton.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_140">140</a> 159 l. 13 <i>Glo'ster</i>: Gilbert de Clare, son-in-law to Edward. +<i>Mortimer</i>, one of the Lords Marchers of Wales.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_141">141</a> 159 <i>High-born Hoel, soft Llewellyn</i> (l. 15); the <i>Dissertatio de +Bardis</i> of Evans names the first as son to the King Owain Gwynedd: +Llewelyn, last King of North Wales, was murdered 1282. L. 16 +<i>Cadwallo</i>: Cadwallon (died 631) and Urien Rheged (early kings of +Gwynedd and Cumbria respectively) are mentioned by Evans (p. 78) as +bards none of whose poetry is extant. L. 20 <i>Modred</i>: Evans supplies +no <i>data</i> for this name, which Gray (it has been supposed) uses for +Merlin (Myrddin Wyllt), held prophet as well as poet.—The Italicized +lines mark where the Bard's song is joined by that of his predecessors +departed. L. 22 <i>Arvon</i>: the shores of Carnarvonshire opposite +Anglesey. Whether intentionally or through ignorance of the real +dates, Gray here seems to represent the <i>Bard</i> as speaking of these +poets, all of earlier days, Llewelyn excepted, as his own +contemporaries at the close of the thirteenth century.</p> + +<p>Gray, whose penetrating and powerful genius rendered him in many ways +an initiator in advance of his age, is probably the first of our poets +who made some acquaintance with the rich and admirable poetry in which +Wales from the Sixth Century has been fertile,—before and since his +time so barbarously neglected, not in England only. Hence it has been +thought worth while here to enter into a little detail upon his Cymric +allusions.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_142">142</a> — l. 5 <i>She-wolf</i>: Isabel of France, adulterous Queen of Edward +II.—L. 35 <i>Towers of Julius</i>: the Tower of London, built in part, +according to tradition, by Julius Caesar.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_143">143</a> — l. 2 <i>bristled boar</i>: the badge of Richard III. L. 7 <i>Half of +thy heart</i>: Queen Eleanor died soon after the conquest of Wales. L. 18 +<i>Arthur</i>: Henry VII named his eldest son thus, in deference to native +feeling and story.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_144">144</a> 161 The Highlanders called the battle of Culloden, Drumossie.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_145">145</a> 162 <i>lilting</i>, singing blithely: <i>loaning</i>, broad lane: <i>bughts</i>, +pens: <i>scorning</i>, rallying: <i>dowie</i>, dreary: <i>daffin'</i> and <i>gabbin'</i>, +joking and chatting: <i>leglin</i>, milkpail: <i>shearing</i>, reaping: +<i>bandsters</i>, sheaf-binders: <i>lyart</i>, grizzled: <i>runkled</i>, wrinkled: +<i>fleeching</i>, coaxing: <i>gloaming</i>, twilight: <i>bogle</i>, ghost: <i>dool</i>, +sorrow.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_147">147</a> 164 The Editor has found no authoritative text of this poem, to +his mind superior to any other of its class in melody and pathos. Part +is probably not later than the seventeenth century: in other stanzas a +more modern hand, much resembling Scott's, is traceable. Logan's poem +(163) exhibits a knowledge rather of the old legend than of the old +verses,—<i>Hecht</i>, promised; the obsolete <i>hight</i>: <i>mavis</i>, thrush:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span> +<i>ilka</i>, every: <i>lav'rock</i>, lark: <i>haughs</i>, valley-meadows: <i>twined</i>, +parted from: <i>marrow</i>, mate: <i>syne</i>, then.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_148">148</a> 165 The Royal George, of 108 guns, whilst undergoing a partial +careening at Spithead, was overset about 10 A.M. Aug. 29, 1782. The +total loss was believed to be nearly 1000 souls.—This little poem +might be called one of our trial-pieces, in regard to taste. The +reader who feels the vigour of description and the force of pathos +underlying Cowper's bare and truly Greek simplicity of phrase, may +assure himself <i>se valde profecisse</i> in poetry.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_151">151</a> 167 A little masterpiece in a very difficult style: Catullus +himself could hardly have bettered it. In grace, tenderness, +simplicity, and humour, it is worthy of the Ancients: and even more +so, from the completeness and unity of the picture presented.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_155">155</a> 172 Perhaps no writer who has given such strong proofs of the +poetic nature has left less satisfactory poetry than Thomson. Yet this +song, with 'Rule Britannia' and a few others, must make us regret that +he did not more seriously apply himself to lyrical writing.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_156">156</a> 174 With what insight and tenderness, yet in how few words, has +this painter-poet here himself told <i>Love's Secret!</i></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_157">157</a> 177 l. 1 <i>Aeolian lyre</i>: the Greeks ascribed the origin of their +Lyrical Poetry to the Colonies of Aeolis in Asia Minor.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_158">158</a> — <i>Thracia's hills</i> (l. 9) supposed a favourite resort of Mars. +<i>Feather'd king</i> (l. 13) the Eagle of Jupiter, admirably described by +Pindar in a passage here imitated by Gray. <i>Idalia</i> (l. 19) in Cyprus, +where <i>Cytherea</i> (Venus) was especially worshipped.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_159">159</a> — l. 6 <i>Hyperion</i>: the Sun. St. 6-8 allude to the Poets of the +Islands and Mainland of Greece, to those of Rome and of England.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_160">160</a> — l. 27 <i>Theban Eagle</i>: Pindar.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_163">163</a> 178 l. 5 <i>chaste-eyed Queen</i>: Diana.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_164">164</a> 179 From that wild rhapsody of mingled grandeur, tenderness, and +obscurity, that 'medley between inspiration and possession,' which +poor Smart is believed to have written whilst in confinement for +madness.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_165">165</a> 181 <i>the dreadful light</i>: of life and experience.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_166">166</a> 182 <i>Attic warbler</i>: the nightingale.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_168">168</a> 184 <i>sleekit</i>, sleek: <i>bickering brattle</i>, flittering flight: <i>laith</i>, +loth: <i>pattle</i>, ploughstaff: <i>whyles</i>, at times: <i>a daimenicker</i>, a +corn-ear now and then: <i>thrave</i>, shock: <i>lave</i>, rest: <i>foggage</i>, +after-grass: <i>snell</i>, biting: <i>but hald</i>, without dwelling-place: <i>thole</i>, +bear: <i>cranreuch</i>, hoar-frost: <i>thy lane</i>, alone: <i>a-gley</i>, off the right +line, awry.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_175">175</a> 188 <i>stoure</i>, dust-storm; <i>braw</i>, smart.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_176">176</a> 189 <i>scaith</i>, hurt: <i>tent</i>, guard: <i>steer</i>, molest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_177">177</a> 191 <i>drumlie</i>, muddy: <i>birk</i>, birch.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_178">178</a> 192 <i>greet</i>, cry: <i>daurna</i>, dare not.—There can hardly exist a +poem more truly tragic in the highest sense than this: nor, perhaps, +Sappho excepted, has any Poetess equalled it.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_180">180</a> 193 <i>fou</i>, merry with drink: <i>coost</i>, carried: <i>unco skeigh</i>, very +proud: <i>gart</i>, forced: <i>abeigh</i>, aside: <i>Ailsa craig</i>, a rock in the Firth +of Clyde: <i>grat his een bleert</i>, cried till his eyes were bleared: +<i>lowpin</i>, leaping: <i>linn</i>, waterfall: <i>sair</i>, sore: <i>smoor'd</i>, smothered: +<i>crouse</i> and <i>canty</i>, blithe and gay.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_181">181</a> 194 Burns justly named this 'one of the most beautiful songs in +the Scots or any other language.' One stanza, interpolated by Beattie, +is here omitted:—it contains two good lines, but is out of harmony +with the original poem. <i>Bigonet</i>, little cap: probably altered from +<i>béguinette</i>: <i>thraw</i>, twist: <i>caller</i>, fresh.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_182">182</a> 195 Burns himself, despite two attempts, failed to improve this +little absolute masterpiece of music, tenderness, and simplicity: this +'Romance of a life' in eight lines.—<i>Eerie</i>: strictly, scared: +uneasy.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_183">183</a> 196 <i>airts</i>, quarters: <i>row</i>, roll: <i>shaw</i>, small wood in a +hollow, spinney: <i>knowes</i>, knolls. The last two stanzas are not by +Burns.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_184">184</a> 197 <i>jo</i>, sweetheart: <i>brent</i>, smooth: <i>pow</i>, head.</p> + +<p>— 198 <i>leal</i>, faithful. St. 3 <i>fain</i>, happy.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_185">185</a> 199 Henry VI founded Eton.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_188">188</a> 200 Written in 1773, towards the beginning of Cowper's second +attack of melancholy madness—a time when he altogether gave up +prayer, saying, 'For him to implore mercy would only anger God the +more.' Yet had he given it up when sane, it would have been 'maior +insania.'</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_191">191</a> 203 The Editor would venture to class in the very first rank this +Sonnet, which, with 204, records Cowper's gratitude to the Lady whose +affectionate care for many years gave what sweetness he could enjoy to +a life radically wretched. Petrarch's sonnets have a more ethereal +grace and a more perfect finish; Shakespeare's more passion; Milton's +stand supreme in stateliness; Wordsworth's in depth and delicacy. But +Cowper's unites with an exquisiteness in the turn of thought which the +ancients would have called Irony, an intensity of pathetic tenderness +peculiar to his loving and ingenuous nature.—There is much mannerism, +much that is unimportant or of now exhausted interest in his poems: +but where he is great, it is with that elementary greatness which +rests on the most universal human feelings. Cowper is our highest +master in simple pathos.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_193">193</a> 205 Cowper's last original poem, founded upon a story told in +Anson's 'Voyages.' It was written March 1799; he died in next year's +April.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_195">195</a> 206 Very little except his name appears recoverable with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> regard +to the author of this truly noble poem, which appeared in the +'Scripscrapologia, or Collins' Doggerel Dish of All Sorts,' with three +or four other pieces of merit, Birmingham, 1804.—<i>Everlasting</i>; used +with side-allusion to a cloth so named, at the time when Collins +wrote.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3><i>Summary of Book Fourth</i></h3> + +<p>It proves sufficiently the lavish wealth of our own age in Poetry, +that the pieces which, without conscious departure from the standard +of Excellence, render this Book by far the longest, were with very few +exceptions composed during the first thirty years of the Nineteenth +century. Exhaustive reasons can hardly be given for the strangely +sudden appearance of individual genius: that, however, which assigns +the splendid national achievements of our recent poetry to an impulse +from the France of the first Republic and Empire is inadequate. The +first French Revolution was rather one result,—the most conspicuous, +indeed, yet itself in great measure essentially retrogressive,—of +that wider and more potent spirit which through enquiry and attempt, +through strength and weakness, sweeps mankind round the circles (not, +as some too confidently argue, of Advance, but) of gradual +Transformation: and it is to this that we must trace the literature of +Modern Europe. But, without attempting discussion on the motive causes +of Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley, and others, we may observe that these +Poets carried to further perfection the later tendencies of the +Century preceding, in simplicity of narrative, reverence for human +Passion and Character in every sphere, and love of Nature for +herself:—that, whilst maintaining on the whole the advances in art +made since the Restoration, they renewed the half-forgotten melody and +depth of tone which marked the best Elizabethan writers:—that, +lastly, to what was thus inherited they added a richness in language +and a variety in metre, a force and fire in narrative, a tenderness +and bloom in feeling, an insight into the finer passages of the Soul +and the inner meanings of the landscape, a larger sense of +Humanity,—hitherto scarcely attained, and perhaps unattainable even +by predecessors of not inferior individual genius. In a word, the +Nation which, after the Greeks in their glory, may fairly claim that +during six centuries it has proved itself the most richly gifted of +all nations for Poetry, expressed in these men the highest strength +and prodigality of its nature. They interpreted the age to +itself—hence the many phases of thought and style they present:—to +sympathize with each, fervently and impartially, without fear and +without fancifulness, is no doubtful step in the higher education of +the soul. For purity in taste is absolutely proportionate to +strength—and when once the mind has raised itself to grasp and to +delight in excellence, those who love most will be found to love most +wisely.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the gallery which this Book offers to the reader will aid him more +than any preface. It is a royal Palace of Poetry which he is invited +to enter:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adparet domus intus, et atria longa patescunt—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>though it is, indeed, to the sympathetic eye only that its treasures +will be visible.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="smcap f1">page no.</span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_197">197</a> 208 This beautiful lyric, printed in 1783, seems to anticipate in +its imaginative music that return to our great early age of song, +which in Blake's own lifetime was to prove,—how gloriously! that the +English Muses had resumed their 'ancient melody':—Keats, Shelley, +Byron,—he overlived them all.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_199">199</a> 210 <i>stout Cortez</i>: History would here suggest <i>Balbóa</i>: (A.T.) It +may be noticed, that to find in Chapman's Homer the 'pure serene' of +the original, the reader must bring with him the imagination of the +youthful poet;—he must be 'a Greek himself,' as Shelley finely said +of Keats.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_202">202</a> 212 The most tender and true of Byron's smaller poems.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_203">203</a> 213 This poem exemplifies the peculiar skill with which Scott +employs proper names:—a rarely misleading sign of true poetical +genius.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_213">213</a> 226 Simple as <i>Lucy Gray</i> seems, a mere narrative of what 'has +been, and may be again,' yet every touch in the child's picture is +marked by the deepest and purest ideal character. Hence, pathetic as +the situation is, this is not strictly a pathetic poem, such as +Wordsworth gives us in 221, Lamb in 264, and Scott in his <i>Maid of +Neidpath</i>,—'almost more pathetic,' as Tennyson once remarked, 'than a +man has the right to be.' And Lyte's lovely stanzas (224) suggest, +perhaps, the same remark.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_222">222</a> 235 In this and in other instances the addition (or the change) of +a Title has been risked, in hope that the aim of the piece following +may be grasped more clearly and immediately.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_228">228</a> 242 This beautiful Sonnet was the last word of a youth, in whom, +if the fulfilment may ever safely be prophesied from the promise, +England lost one of the most rarely gifted in the long roll of her +poets. Shakespeare and Milton, had their lives been closed at +twenty-five, would (so far as we know) have left poems of less +excellence and hope than the youth who, from the petty school and the +London surgery, passed at once to a place with them of 'high +collateral glory.'</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_230">230</a> 245 It is impossible not to regret that Moore has written so +little in this sweet and genuinely national style.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_231">231</a> 246 A masterly example of Byron's command of strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span> thought and +close reasoning in verse:—as the next is equally characteristic of +Shelley's wayward intensity.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_240">240</a> 253 Bonnivard, a Genevese, was imprisoned by the Duke of Savoy in +Chillon on the lake of Geneva for his courageous defence of his +country against the tyranny with which Piedmont threatened it during +the first half of the Seventeenth century.—This noble Sonnet is +worthy to stand near Milton's on the Vaudois massacre.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_241">241</a> 254 Switzerland was usurped by the French under Napoleon in 1800: +Venice in 1797 (255).</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_243">243</a> 259 This battle was fought Dec. 2, 1800, between the Austrians +under Archduke John and the French under Moreau, in a forest near +Munich. <i>Hohen Linden</i> means <i>High Limetrees</i>.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_247">247</a> 262 After the capture of Madrid by Napoleon, Sir J. Moore +retreated before Soult and Ney to Corunna, and was killed whilst +covering the embarkation of his troops.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_257">257</a> 272 The Mermaid was the club-house of Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and +other choice spirits of that age.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_258">258</a> 273 <i>Maisie</i>: Mary.—Scott has given us nothing more complete and +lovely than this little song, which unites simplicity and dramatic +power to a wild-wood music of the rarest quality. No moral is drawn, +far less any conscious analysis of feeling attempted:—the pathetic +meaning is left to be suggested by the mere presentment of the +situation. A narrow criticism has often named this, which maybe called +the Homeric manner, superficial, from its apparent simple facility; +but first-rate excellence in it is in truth one of the least common +triumphs of Poetry.—This style should be compared with what is not +less perfect in its way, the searching out of inner feeling, the +expression of hidden meanings, the revelation of the heart of Nature +and of the Soul within the Soul,—the analytical method, in +short,—most completely represented by Wordsworth and by Shelley.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_263">263</a> 277 Wolfe resembled Keats, not only in his early death by +consumption and the fluent freshness of his poetical style, but in +beauty of character:—brave, tender, energetic, unselfish, modest. Is +it fanciful to find some reflex of these qualities in the <i>Burial</i> and +<i>Mary</i>? Out of the abundance of the <i>heart</i> ...</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_264">264</a> 278 <i>correi</i>: covert on a hillside. <i>Cumber</i>: trouble.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_265">265</a> 250 This book has not a few poems of greater power and more +perfect execution than <i>Agnes</i> and the extract which we have ventured +to make from the deep-hearted author's <i>Sad Thoughts</i> (No. 224). But +none are more emphatically marked by the note of exquisiteness.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_266">266</a> 281 st. 3 <i>inch</i>: island.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_270">270</a> 283 From <i>Poetry for Children</i> (1809), by Charles and +Mary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span> Lamb. This tender and original little piece seems clearly to +reveal the work of that noble-minded and afflicted sister, who was at +once the happiness, the misery, and the life-long blessing of her +equally noble-minded brother.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_278">278</a> 289 This poem has an exaltation and a glory, joined with an +exquisiteness of expression, which place it in the highest rank among +the many masterpieces of its illustrious Author.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_289">289</a> 300 <i>interlunar swoon</i>: interval of the moon's invisibility.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_294">294</a> 304 <i>Calpe</i>: Gibraltar. <i>Lofoden</i>: the Maelstrom whirlpool off the +N.W. coast of Norway.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_295">295</a> 305 This lovely poem refers here and there to a ballad by Hamilton +on the subject better treated in 163 and 164.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_307">307</a> 315 <i>Arcturi</i>: seemingly used for <i>northern stars</i>. <i>And wild +roses, &c.</i> Our language has perhaps no line modulated with more +subtle sweetness.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_308">308</a> 316 Coleridge describes this poem as the fragment of a +dream-vision,—perhaps, an opium-dream?—which composed itself in his +mind when fallen asleep after reading a few lines about 'the Khan +Kubla' in Purchas' <i>Pilgrimage</i>.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_312">312</a> 318 <i>Ceres' daughter</i>: Proserpine. <i>God of Torment</i>: Pluto.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_320">320</a> 321 The leading idea of this beautiful description of a day's +landscape in Italy appears to be—On the voyage of life are many +moments of pleasure, given by the sight of Nature, who has power to +heal even the worldliness and the uncharity of man.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_321">321</a> — l. 23 Amphitrite was daughter to Ocean.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_325">325</a> 322 l. 21 <i>Maenad</i>: a frenzied Nymph, attendant on Dionysos in the +Greek mythology. May we not call this the most vivid, sustained, and +impassioned amongst all Shelley's magical personifications of Nature?</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_326">326</a> — l. 5 Plants under water sympathize with the seasons of the +land, and hence with the winds which affect them.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_327">327</a> 323 Written soon after the death, by shipwreck, of Wordsworth's +brother John. This poem may be profitably compared with Shelley's +following it. Each is the most complete expression of the innermost +spirit of his art given by these great Poets:—of that Idea which, as +in the case of the true Painter, (to quote the words of Reynolds,) +'subsists only in the mind: The sight never beheld it, nor has the +hand expressed it: it is an idea residing in the breast of the artist, +which he is always labouring to impart, and which he dies at last +without imparting.'</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_328">328</a> — <i>the Kind</i>: the human race.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_331">331</a> 327 <i>the Royal Saint</i>: Henry VI.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_331">331</a> 328 st. 4 <i>this</i> folk: <i>its</i> has been here plausibly but, perhaps, +unnecessarily, conjectured.—Every one knows the general story of the +Italian Renaissance, of the Revival of Letters.—From Petrarch's day +to our own, that ancient world has renewed its youth: Poets and +artists, students and thinkers, have yielded themselves wholly to its +fascination, and deeply penetrated its spirit. Yet perhaps no one more +truly has vivified, whilst idealizing, the picture of Greek country +life in the fancied Golden Age, than Keats in these lovely (if +somewhat unequally executed) stanzas:—his quick imagination, by a +kind of 'natural magic,' more than supplying the scholarship which his +youth had no opportunity of gaining.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_105">105</a> 134 These stanzas are by Richard Verstegan (—c. 1635), a poet and +antiquarian, published in his rare Odes (1601), under the title <i>Our +Blessed Ladies Lullaby</i>, and reprinted by Mr. Orby Shipley in his +beautiful <i>Carmina Mariana</i> (1893). The four stanzas here given form +the opening of a hymn of twenty-four.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="INDEX_OF_WRITERS" id="INDEX_OF_WRITERS"></a>INDEX OF WRITERS</h2> + +<p class="center">WITH DATES OF BIRTH AND DEATH</p> + + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Alexander</span>, William (1580-1640) <a href="#XXIX">29</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Barbauld</span>, Anna Laetitia (1743-1825) <a href="#CCVII">207</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Barnefield</span>, Richard (16th Century) <a href="#XLV">45</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Beaumont</span>, Francis (1586-1616) <a href="#XC">90</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Blake</span>, William (1757-1827) <a href="#CLXXIV">174</a>, <a href="#CLXXX">180</a>, <a href="#CLXXXI">181</a>, <a href="#CCVIII">208</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Burns</span>, Robert (1759-1796) <a href="#CLXI">161</a>, <a href="#CLXVIII">168</a>, <a href="#CLXXVI">176</a>, <a href="#CLXXXIV">184</a>, <a href="#CLXXXVIII">188</a>, <a href="#CLXXXIX">189</a>, <a href="#CXC">190</a>, <a href="#CXCI">191</a>, <a href="#CXCIII">193</a>, <a href="#CXCVI">196</a>, <a href="#CXCVII">197</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Byron</span>, George Gordon Noel (1788-1824) <a href="#CCXII">212</a>, <a href="#CCXIV">214</a>, <a href="#CCXVI">216</a>, <a href="#CCXXXIV">234</a>, <a href="#CCXLVI">246</a>, <a href="#CCLIII">253</a>, <a href="#CCLXVI">266</a>, <a href="#CCLXXV">275</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Campbell</span>, Thomas (1777-1844) <a href="#CCXXV">225</a>, <a href="#CCXXXI">231</a>, <a href="#CCXLI">241</a>, <a href="#CCL">250</a>, <a href="#CCLI">251</a>, <a href="#CCLIX">259</a>, <a href="#CCXCV">295</a>, <a href="#CCCIV">304</a>, <a href="#CCCX">310</a>, <a href="#CCCXIV">314</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXII">332</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Campion</span>, Thomas (c. 1567-1620) <a href="#XXV">25</a>, <a href="#XXVI">26</a>, <a href="#L">50</a>, <a href="#LII">52</a>, <a href="#LV">55</a>, <a href="#LIX">59</a>, <a href="#LXXVI">76</a>, <a href="#LXXIX">79</a>, <a href="#CI">101</a>, <a href="#CXLIII">143</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Carew</span>, Thomas (1589-1639) <a href="#CXII">112</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Carey</span>, Henry (—— -1743) <a href="#CLXVII">167</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Cibber</span>, Colley (1671-1757) <a href="#CLV">155</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Coleridge</span>, Hartley (1796-1849) <a href="#CCXVIII">218</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Coleridge</span>, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834) <a href="#CCXI">211</a>, <a href="#CCCXVI">316</a>, <a href="#CCCXXIX">329</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Collins</span>, John (18th Century) <a href="#CCVI">206</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Collins</span>, William (1720-1756) <a href="#CLIII">153</a>, <a href="#CLX">160</a>, <a href="#CLXXVIII">178</a>, <a href="#CLXXXVI">186</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Cowley</span>, Abraham (1618-1667) <a href="#CXXX">130</a>, <a href="#CXXXVII">137</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Cowper</span>, William (1731-1800) <a href="#CLXV">165</a>, <a href="#CLXX">170</a>, <a href="#CLXXXIII">183</a>, <a href="#CC">200</a>, <a href="#CCII">202</a>, <a href="#CCIII">203</a>, <a href="#CCIV">204</a>, <a href="#CCV">205</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Crashaw</span>, Richard (1615?-1652) <a href="#CIII">103</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>, Allan (1784-1842) <a href="#CCXLIX">249</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Daniel</span>, Samuel (1562-1619) <a href="#XLVI">46</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Dekker</span>, Thomas (—— -1638?) <a href="#LXXV">75</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Devereux</span>, Robert (1567-1601) <a href="#LXXXIII">83</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Donne</span>, John (1573-1631) <a href="#XII">12</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Drayton</span>, Michael (1563-1631) <a href="#XLIX">49</a><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span><span class="smcap">Drummond</span>, William (1585-1649) <a href="#IV">4</a>, <a href="#LXI">61</a>, <a href="#LXIII">63</a>, <a href="#LXXVII">77</a>, <a href="#LXXX">80</a>, <a href="#LXXXI">81</a>, <a href="#LXXXIV">84</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Dryden</span>, John (1631-1700) <a href="#LXXXVI">86</a>, <a href="#CLI">151</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Elliott</span>, Jane (18th Century) <a href="#CLXII">162</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Fletcher</span>, John (1576-1625) <a href="#CXXXII">132</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Gay</span>, John (1685-1732) <a href="#CLXVI">166</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Goldsmith</span>, Oliver (1728-1774) <a href="#CLXXV">175</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Graham</span>, Robert (1735-1797) <a href="#CLXIX">169</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Gray</span>, Thomas (1716-1771) <a href="#CLII">152</a>, <a href="#CLVI">156</a>, <a href="#CLIX">159</a>, <a href="#CLXXVII">177</a>, <a href="#CLXXXII">182</a>, <a href="#CLXXXVII">187</a>, <a href="#CXCIX">199</a>, <a href="#CCI">201</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Greene</span>, Robert (1561?-1592) <a href="#LX">60</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Habington</span>, William (1605-1645) <a href="#CXLVIII">148</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Herbert</span>, George (1593-1632) <a href="#XCVII">97</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Herrick</span>, Robert (1591-1674?) <a href="#CVIII">108</a>, <a href="#CXIII">113</a>, <a href="#CXVIII">118</a>, <a href="#CXIX">119</a>, <a href="#CXX">120</a>, <a href="#CXXIV">124</a>, <a href="#CXXXIX">139</a>, <a href="#CXL">140</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Heywood</span>, Thomas (—— -1649?) <a href="#LXXIII">73</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hood</span>, Thomas (1798-1845) <a href="#CCLXVIII">268</a>, <a href="#CCLXXIV">274</a>, <a href="#CCLXXIX">279</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Jonson</span>, Ben (1574-1637) <a href="#XCVI">96</a>, <a href="#CII">102</a>, <a href="#CXVI">116</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Keats</span>, John (1795-1821) <a href="#CCIX">209</a>, <a href="#CCX">210</a>, <a href="#CCXXXV">235</a>, <a href="#CCXXXVII">237</a>, <a href="#CCXLII">242</a>, <a href="#CCXLIII">243</a>, <a href="#CCLXXII">272</a>, <a href="#CCXC">290</a>, <a href="#CCXCII">292</a>, <a href="#CCCIII">303</a>, <a href="#CCCXVIII">318</a>, <a href="#CCCXXVIII">328</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXIII">333</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Lamb</span>, Charles (1775-1835) <a href="#CCLXIV">264</a>, <a href="#CCLXXVI">276</a>, <a href="#CCLXXXII">282</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lamb</span>, Mary (1764-1847) <a href="#CCLXXXIII">283</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lindsay</span>, Anne (1750-1825) <a href="#CXCII">192</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lodge</span>, Thomas (1556-1625) <a href="#XIX">19</a>, <a href="#LXXI">71</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Logan</span>, John (1748-1788) <a href="#CLXIII">163</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lovelace</span>, Richard (1618-1658) <a href="#CIX">109</a>, <a href="#CXXVII">127</a>, <a href="#CXXVIII">128</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lylye</span>, John (1554-1600) <a href="#LXXII">72</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lyte</span>, Henry Francis (1793-1847) <a href="#CCXXIV">224</a>, <a href="#CCLXXX">280</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Marlowe</span>, Christopher (1562-1593) <a href="#VII">7</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Marvell</span>, Andrew (1620-1678) <a href="#LXXXVIII">88</a>, <a href="#CV">105</a>, <a href="#CXLI">141</a>, <a href="#CXLII">142</a>, <a href="#CXLVI">146</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mickle</span>, William Julius (1734-1788) <a href="#CXCIV">194</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Milton</span>, John (1608-1674) <a href="#LXXXV">85</a>, <a href="#LXXXVII">87</a>, <a href="#LXXXIX">89</a>, <a href="#XCIII">93</a>, <a href="#XCIV">94</a>, <a href="#XCIX">99</a>, <a href="#C">100</a>, <a href="#CXI">111</a>, <a href="#CXLIV">144</a>, <a href="#CXLV">145</a>, <a href="#CXLVII">147</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Moore</span>, Thomas (1780-1852) <a href="#CCXXIX">229</a>, <a href="#CCXLV">245</a>, <a href="#CCLXI">261</a>, <a href="#CCLXV">265</a>, <a href="#CCLXIX">269</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Nairn</span>, Carolina (1766-1845) <a href="#CXCVIII">198</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Nash</span>, Thomas (1567-1601?) <a href="#I">1</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Norris</span>, John (1657-1711) <a href="#CXLIX">149</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Philips</span>, Ambrose (1671-1749) <a href="#CLVII">157</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Pope</span>, Alexander (1688-1744) <a href="#CLIV">154</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Prior</span>, Matthew (1662-1721) <a href="#CLXXIII">173</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Quarles</span>, Francis (1592-1644) <a href="#CXXIII">123</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Rogers</span>, Samuel (1762-1855) <a href="#CLXXI">171</a>, <a href="#CLXXXV">185</a><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Scott</span>, Walter (1771-1832) <a href="#CCXIII">213</a>, <a href="#CCXXVII">227</a>, <a href="#CCXXX">230</a>, <a href="#CCXXXVI">236</a>, <a href="#CCXXXVIII">238</a>, <a href="#CCXL">240</a>, <a href="#CCXLVIII">248</a>, <a href="#CCLXXIII">273</a>, <a href="#CCLXXVIII">278</a>, <a href="#CCLXXXI">281</a>, <a href="#CCLXXXV">285</a>, <a href="#CCCXI">311</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Sedley</span>, Charles (1639-1701) <a href="#CVI">106</a>, <a href="#CXXVI">126</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>, William (1564-1616) <a href="#II">2</a>, <a href="#III">3</a>, <a href="#V">5</a>, <a href="#VI">6</a>, <a href="#IX">9</a>, <a href="#X">10</a>, <a href="#XI">11</a>, <a href="#XIV">14</a>, <a href="#XV">15</a>, <a href="#XVI">16</a>, <a href="#XVII">17</a>, <a href="#XVIII">18</a>, <a href="#XXIII">23</a>, <a href="#XXIV">24</a>, <a href="#XXVII">27</a>, <a href="#XXXI">31</a>, <a href="#XXXV">35</a>, <a href="#XXXVII">37</a>, <a href="#XXXVIII">38</a>, <a href="#XXXIX">39</a>, <a href="#XLI">41</a>, <a href="#XLII">42</a>, <a href="#XLIII">43</a>, <a href="#XLVIII">48</a>, <a href="#LI">51</a>, <a href="#LVI">56</a>, <a href="#LXII">62</a>, <a href="#LXIV">64</a>, <a href="#LXV">65</a>, <a href="#LXVII">67</a>, <a href="#LXVIII">68</a>, <a href="#LXIX">69</a>, <a href="#LXXVIII">78</a>, <a href="#LXXXII">82</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Shelley</span>, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822) <a href="#CCXV">215</a>, <a href="#CCXIX">219</a>, <a href="#CCXXVIII">228</a>, <a href="#CCXXXII">232</a>, <a href="#CCXXXIX">239</a>, <a href="#CCXLVII">247</a>, <a href="#CCLXX">270</a>, <a href="#CCLXXXVII">287</a>, <a href="#CCXCIII">293</a>, <a href="#CCC">300</a>, <a href="#CCCVII">307</a>, <a href="#CCCVIII">308</a>, <a href="#CCCXII">312</a>, <a href="#CCCXV">315</a>, <a href="#CCCXXI">321</a>, <a href="#CCCXXII">322</a>, <a href="#CCCXXIV">324</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXIV">334</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXV">335</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXIX">339</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Shirley</span>, James (1596-1666) <a href="#XCI">91</a>, <a href="#XCII">92</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Sidney</span>, Philip (1554-1586) <a href="#XIII">13</a>, <a href="#XXXII">32</a>, <a href="#XL">40</a>, <a href="#XLVII">47</a>, <a href="#LVIII">58</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Smart</span>, Christopher (1722-1770) <a href="#CLXXIX">179</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Southey</span>, Robert (1774-1843) <a href="#CCLX">260</a>, <a href="#CCLXXI">271</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Spenser</span>, Edmund (1553-1598-9) <a href="#LXXIV">74</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Suckling</span>, John (1608-9-1641) <a href="#CXXIX">129</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Sylvester</span>, Joshua (1563-1618) <a href="#XXXIV">34</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Thomson</span>, James (1700-1748) <a href="#CLVIII">158</a>, <a href="#CLXXII">172</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Vaughan</span>, Henry (1621-1695) <a href="#XCVIII">98</a>, <a href="#CXXXVIII">138</a>, <a href="#CL">150</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Waller</span>, Edmund (1605-1687) <a href="#CXV">115</a>, <a href="#CXXII">122</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Webster</span>, John (—— -1638?) <a href="#LXVI">66</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wilmot</span>, John (1647-1680) <a href="#CVII">107</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wither</span>, George (1588-1667) <a href="#CXXXI">131</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wolfe</span>, Charles (1791-1823) <a href="#CCLXII">262</a>, <a href="#CCLXXVII">277</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>, William (1770-1850) <a href="#CCXVII">217</a>, <a href="#CCXX">220</a>, <a href="#CCXXI">221</a>, <a href="#CCXXII">222</a>, <a href="#CCXXIII">223</a>, <a href="#CCXXVI">226</a>, <a href="#CCXXXIII">233</a>, <a href="#CCXLIV">244</a>, <a href="#CCLII">252</a>, <a href="#CCLIV">254</a>, <a href="#CCLV">255</a>, <a href="#CCLVI">256</a>, <a href="#CCLVII">257</a>, <a href="#CCLVIII">258</a>, <a href="#CCLXIII">263</a>, <a href="#CCLXVII">267</a>, <a href="#CCLXXXIV">284</a>, <a href="#CCLXXXVI">286</a>, <a href="#CCLXXXVIII">288</a>, <a href="#CCLXXXIX">289</a>, <a href="#CCXCI">291</a>, <a href="#CCXCIV">294</a>, <a href="#CCXCVI">296</a>, <a href="#CCXCVII">297</a>, <a href="#CCXCVIII">298</a>, <a href="#CCXCIX">299</a>, <a href="#CCCI">301</a>, <a href="#CCCII">302</a>, <a href="#CCCV">305</a>, <a href="#CCCVI">306</a>, <a href="#CCCIX">309</a>, <a href="#CCCXIII">313</a>, <a href="#CCCXVII">317</a>, <a href="#CCCXIX">319</a>, <a href="#CCCXX">320</a>, <a href="#CCCXXIII">323</a>, <a href="#CCCXXV">325</a>, <a href="#CCCXXVI">326</a>, <a href="#CCCXXVII">327</a>, <a href="#CCCXXX">330</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXI">331</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXVI">336</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXVII">337</a>, <a href="#CCCXXXVIII">338</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wotton</span>, Henry (1568-1639) <a href="#XCV">95</a>, <a href="#CX">110</a><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wyat</span>, Thomas (1503-1542) <a href="#XXVIII">28</a>, <a href="#XLIV">44</a> +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">Anonymous</span>, <a href="#VIII">8</a>, <a href="#XX">20</a>, <a href="#XXI">21</a>, <a href="#XXII">22</a>, <a href="#XXX">30</a>, <a href="#XXXIII">33</a>, <a href="#XXXVI">36</a>, <a href="#LIII">53</a>, <a href="#LIV">54</a>, <a href="#LVII">57</a>, <a href="#LXX">70</a>, <a href="#CIV">104</a>, <a href="#CXIV">114</a>, <a href="#CXVII">117</a>, <a href="#CXXI">121</a>, <a href="#CXXV">125</a>, <a href="#CXXXIII">133</a>, <a href="#CXXXV">135</a>, <a href="#CXXXVI">136</a>, <a href="#CLXIV">164</a>, <a href="#CXCV">195</a> +</p><p> +<a href="#CXXXIV">134</a> is by Richard Verstegan (-c. 1635). +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES" id="INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES"></a>INDEX OF FIRST LINES</h2> + +<table class="tab2" summary="Index of First Lines"> +<tr><td></td><td class="tocpg f1">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>A Chieftain to the Highlands bound</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td>A child's a plaything for an hour</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>A slumber did my spirit seal</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>A sweet disorder in the dress</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>A weary lot is thine, fair maid</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>A wet sheet and a flowing sea</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Absence, hear thou this protestation</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>All thoughts, all passions, all delights</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>And are ye sure the news is true</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>And is this—Yarrow?—This the Stream</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>And thou art dead, as young and fair</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>And wilt thou leave me thus</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ariel to Miranda:—Take</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Art thou pale for weariness</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>As it fell upon a day</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>As I was walking all alane</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>As slow our ship her foamy track</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Awake, awake, my Lyre</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Bards of Passion and of Mirth</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Beauty sat bathing by a spring</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Behold her, single in the field</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Being your slave, what should I do but tend</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Best and brightest, come away</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Bid me to live, and I will live</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Blow, blow, thou winter wind</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Calm was the day, and through the trembling air</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Care-charmer Sleep, son of the Sable Night</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Come away, come away, Death</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Come little babe, come silly soul</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Come live with me and be my Love</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Come, Sleep: O Sleep! the certain knot of peace</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Come unto these yellow sands</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Crabbed Age and Youth</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cupid and my Campaspe play'd</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Daughter of Jove, relentless power</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Daughter to that good Earl, once President</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy lord</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Down in yon garden sweet and gay</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Drink to me only with thine eyes</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Duncan Gray cam here to woo</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Earl March look'd on his dying child</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Earth has not anything to show more fair</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>E'en like two little bank-dividing brooks</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ever let the Fancy roam</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_310">310</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Fain would I change that note</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Fair Daffodils, we weep to see</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Fair pledges of a fruitful tree</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Fear no more the heat o' the sun</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Forget not yet the tried intent</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Four Seasons fill the measure of the year</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>From Stirling Castle we had seen</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Full fathom five thy father lies</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Gather ye rose-buds while ye may</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Go fetch to me a pint o' wine</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Go, lovely Rose</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Hail thou most sacred venerable thing</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hail to thee, blithe Spirit</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Happy the man, whose wish and care</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Happy those early days, when I</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Happy were he could finish forth his fate</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>He that loves a rosy cheek</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>He is gone on the mountain</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hence, all you vain delights</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hence, loathéd Melancholy</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hence, vain deluding Joys</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>He sang of God, the mighty source</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>High-way, since you my chief Parnassus be</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>How happy is he born and taught</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>How like a winter hath my absence been</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>How sleep the brave who sink to rest</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>How sweet the answer Echo makes</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>How vainly men themselves amaze</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>I am monarch of all I survey</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I arise from dreams of Thee</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I cannot change, as others do</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I have had playmates, I have had companions</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I have no name</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I heard a thousand blended notes</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I meet thy pensive, moonlight face</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I met a traveller from an antique land</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I remember, I remember</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I saw Eternity the other night</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I saw her in childhood</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I saw my lady weep</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I saw where in the shroud did lurk</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I travell'd among unknown men</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I wander'd lonely as a cloud</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I wish I were where Helen lies</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>If doughty deeds my lady please</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>If I had thought thou couldst have died</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>If Thou survive my well-contented day</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>If to be absent were to be</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I'm wearing awa', Jean</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>In a drear-nighted December</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>In the sweet shire of Cardigan</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>In this still place, remote from men</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>In Xanadu did Kubla Khan</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>It is a beauteous evening, calm and free</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>It is not growing like a tree</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>It was a dismal and a fearful night</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>It was a lover and his lass</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>It was a summer evening</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Jack and Joan, they think no ill</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>John Anderson my jo, John</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Let me not to the marriage of true minds</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Life! I know not what thou art</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Like to the clear in highest sphere</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Love in my bosom, like a bee</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Love not me for comely grace</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Many a green isle needs must be</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Mary! I want a lyre with other strings</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Mine be a cot beside the hill</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Mortality, behold and fear</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_309">309</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Music, when soft voices die</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_346">346</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>My days among the Dead are past</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>My heart leaps up when I behold</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>My Love in her attire doth shew her wit</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>My thoughts hold mortal strife</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>My true-love hath my heart, and I have his</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Never love unless you can</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Never seek to tell thy love</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>No longer mourn for me when I am dead</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Not, Celia, that I juster am</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Now the golden Morn aloft</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Now the last day of many days</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_301">301</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>O blithe new-comer! I have heard</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O Brignall banks are wild and fair</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O Friend! I know not which way I must look</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O happy shades! to me unblest</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O leave this barren spot to me</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O listen, listen, ladies gay</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O lovers' eyes are sharp to see</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O Mary, at thy window be</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O me! what eyes hath love put in my head</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O Mistress mine, where are you roaming</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O my Luve's like a red, red rose</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O never say that I was false of heart</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O saw ye bonnie Lesley</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O say what is that thing call'd Light</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O talk not to me of a name great in story</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O Thou, by Nature taught</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O waly waly up the bank</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O wild West Wind, thou breath Of Autumn's being</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_325">325</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>O World! O Life! O Time</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Obscurest night involved the sky</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Of all the girls that are so smart</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Of a' the airts the wind can blaw</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Of Nelson and the North</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Of Neptune's empire let us sing</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Of this fair volume which we World do name</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Oft in the stilly night</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Oh snatch'd away in beauty's bloom</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>On a day, alack the day</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>On a Poet's lips I slept</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>One more Unfortunate</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>One word is too often profaned</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>On Linden, when the sun was low</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Over the mountains</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Phoebus, arise</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Pibroch of Donuil Dhu</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Proud Maisie is in the wood</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Rough Wind, that moanest loud</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ruin seize thee, ruthless King</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>See with what simplicity</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Shall I compare thee to a summer's day</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Shall I, wasting in despair</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>She dwelt among the untrodden ways</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>She is not fair to outward view</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>She walks in beauty, like the night</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>She was a Phantom of delight</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sleep, sleep, beauty bright</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Souls of Poets dead and gone</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Star that bringest home the bee</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Stern Daughter of the Voice of God</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Surprized by joy—impatient as the wind</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Swiftly walk over the western wave</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Take, O take those lips away</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Tell me not, Sweet, I an unkind</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Tell me where is Fancy bred</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>That time of year thou may'st in me behold</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>That which her slender waist confined</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The curfew tolls the knell of parting day</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The forward youth that would appear</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The fountains mingle with the river</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The glories of our blood and state</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The lovely lass o' Inverness</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The man of life upright</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The merchant, to secure his treasure</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The more we live, more brief appear</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_338">338</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The nightingale, as soon as April bringeth</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>There be none of Beauty's daughters</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>There is a flower, the lesser Celandine</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>There is a garden in her face</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>There's not a nook within this solemn Pass</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The sea hath many thousand sands</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The sun is warm, the sky is clear</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The sun upon the lake is low</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The twentieth year is well-nigh past</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>The world is too much with us; late and soon</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>They are all gone into the world of light</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>They that have power to hurt, and will do none</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>This is the month, and this the happy morn</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>This Life, which seems so fair</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Though others may her brow adore</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Three years she grew in sun and shower</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Timely blossom, Infant fair</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Tired with all these, for restful death I cry</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Toll for the Brave</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>To me, fair Friend, you never can be old</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>To one who has been long in city pent</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Turn back, you wanton flyer</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>'Twas on a lofty vase's side</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Under the greenwood tree</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Upon my lap my sovereign sits</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_333">333</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Victorious men of earth, no more</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Waken, lords and ladies gay</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Weep you no more, sad fountains</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Were I as base as is the lowly plain</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>We talk'd with open heart, and tongue</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_336">336</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>We walk'd along, while bright and red</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>We watch'd her breathing thro' the night</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Whenas in silks my Julia goes</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When Britain first at Heaven's command</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When first the fiery-mantled Sun</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When God at first made Man</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When he who adores thee has left but the name</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When icicles hang by the wall</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When I consider how my light is spent</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When I have borne in memory what has tamed</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When I have fears that I may cease to be</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When I survey the bright</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When I think on the happy days</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When in the chronicle of wasted time</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When lovely woman stoops to folly</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When Love with unconfinéd wings</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When maidens such as Hester die</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When Music, heavenly maid, was young</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When Ruth was left half desolate</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When the lamp is shatter'd</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When thou must home to shades of underground</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When to the sessions of sweet silent thought</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>When we two parted</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Where art thou, my beloved Son</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Where shall the lover rest</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Where the bee sucks, there suck I</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Where the remote Bermudas ride</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Whether on Ida's shady brow</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>While that the sun with his beams hot</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Whoe'er she be</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Why so pale and wan, fond lover</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Why weep ye by the tide, ladie</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>With little here to do or see</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>With sweetest milk and sugar first</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Ye banks and braes and streams around</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ye distant spires, ye antique towers</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ye Mariners of England</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>You meaner beauties of the night</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +</table> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><span class="smcap">Richard Clay and Sons, Limited,</span></h3> +<h4>LONDON AND BUNGAY.</h4> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Uniformly printed, with Vignette Titles by Sir <span class="smcap">J. E. +Millais</span>, Sir <span class="smcap">Noel Paton</span>, <span class="smcap">T. Woolner</span>, <span class="smcap">W. Holman Hunt</span>, <span class="smcap">Arthur +Hughes</span>, &c., engraved on Steel. In uniform binding. Pott +8vo, 2s. 6d. net each.</p></div> + +<p><b>THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF THE BEST SONGS AND LYRICAL</b></p> + +<p class="blockquot">Poems in the English Language. Selected and arranged, with Notes, by +Prof. <span class="smcap">F. T. Palgrave</span>. The First and Second Series, separately, or 2 +Vols. in box, 5s. net.</p> + + +<p><b>POET'S WALK.</b> An Introduction to English Poetry, chosen and arranged by +<span class="smcap">Mowbray Morris</span>. New and Revised Edition.</p> + +<p><b>LYRIC LOVE:</b> An Anthology. Edited by <span class="smcap">William Watson</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE CHILDREN'S GARLAND FROM THE BEST POETS.</b> Selected by <span class="smcap">Coventry +Patmore</span>.</p> + +<p><b>CHILDREN'S TREASURY OF LYRICAL POETRY.</b> Arranged by <span class="smcap">F. T. Palgrave</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE FAIRY BOOK.</b> The Best Popular Fairy Stories. Selected by Mrs. +<span class="smcap">Craik</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE JEST BOOK.</b> The Choicest Anecdotes and Sayings. Arranged by <span class="smcap">Mark +Lemon</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A BOOK OF GOLDEN THOUGHTS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Attwell</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE SUNDAY BOOK OF POETRY FOR THE YOUNG.</b> Selected by <span class="smcap">C. F. Alexander.</span></p> + +<p><b>GOLDEN TREASURY PSALTER.</b> The Student's Edition. Being an Edition with +briefer Notes of "The Psalms Chronologically arranged by Four +Friends."</p> + +<p><b>THE BOOK OF PRAISE.</b> From the best English Hymn Writers. Selected by +<span class="smcap">Roundell, Earl of Selborne</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THEOLOGIA GERMANICA.</b> Translated by <span class="smcap">S. Winkworth</span>. Preface by <span class="smcap">C. +Kingsley</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE BALLAD BOOK.</b> A Selection of the Choicest British Ballads. Edited +by <span class="smcap">William Allingham</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE SONG BOOK.</b> Words and Tunes selected and arranged by <span class="smcap">John Hullah</span>.</p> + +<p><b>LA LYRE FRANÇAISE.</b> Selected and arranged with Notes by <span class="smcap">G. Masson</span>.</p> + +<p><b>BALLADEN UND ROMANZEN.</b> Being a Selection of the Best German Ballads +and Romances. Edited with Introduction and Notes by Dr. <span class="smcap">Buchheim</span>.</p> + +<p><b>DEUTSCHE LYRIK.</b> The Golden Treasury of the best German Lyrical Poems. +Selected by Dr. <span class="smcap">Buchheim.</span></p> + +<p><b>HEINRICH HEINE'S LIEDER UND GEDICHTE.</b> Selected and arranged, with +Notes and a Literary Introduction, by <span class="smcap">C. A. Buchheim</span>, Ph.D. With +Portrait.</p> + +<p><b>THE ESSAYS OF JOSEPH ADDISON.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">J. R. Green</span>.</p> + +<p><b>SELECTED POEMS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD.</b></p> + +<p><b>BACON'S ESSAYS, AND COLOURS OF GOOD AND EVIL.</b> With Notes and +Glossarial Index by <span class="smcap">W. Aldis Wright</span>, M.A.</p> + +<p><b>SIR THOMAS BROWNE'S RELIGIO MEDICI; Letter to A Friend, &c., and +Christian Morals.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">W. A. Greenhill</span>, M.D.</p> + +<p><b>HYDRIOTAPHIA, AND THE GARDEN OF CYRUS.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">W. A. Greenhill</span>, M.D.</p> + +<p><b>THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT which is to come.</b> By +<span class="smcap">John Bunyan</span>.</p> + +<p><b>POETRY OF BYRON.</b> Chosen and arranged by <span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold</span>.</p> + +<p><b>SELECTED POEMS OF A. H. CLOUGH.</b></p> + +<p><b>TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS.</b> By <span class="smcap">An Old Boy</span>.</p> + +<p><b>LETTERS OF WILLIAM COWPER.</b> Edited, with Introduction, by Rev. <span class="smcap">W. +Benham</span>.</p> + +<p><b>SELECTIONS FROM COWPER'S POEMS.</b> With an Introduction by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Oliphant</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">J. W. Clark</span>, M.A.</p> + +<p><b>BALTHASAR GRACIAN.</b> Art of Worldly Wisdom. Translated by <span class="smcap">J. Jacobs</span>.</p> + +<p><b>CHRYSOMELA.</b> A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick. By +Prof. <span class="smcap">F. T. Palgrave</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN KEATS.</b> Edited by Prof. <span class="smcap">F. T. Palgrave</span>.</p> + +<p><b>KEBLE.</b> The Christian Year. Edited by <span class="smcap">C. M. Yonge</span>.</p> + +<p><b>LAMB'S TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.</b> Edited by Rev. <span class="smcap">Alfred Ainger</span>, M.A.</p> + +<p><b>SELECTIONS FROM WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Sidney Colvin</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE SPEECHES AND TABLE TALK OF THE PROPHET MOHAMMAD.</b> Translated by +<span class="smcap">Stanley Lane-Poole</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE CAVALIER AND HIS LADY.</b> Selections from the Works of the first Duke +and Duchess of Newcastle. With an Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Edward +Jenkins</span>.</p> + +<p><b>RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM.</b> The Astronomer-Poet of Persia. Rendered into +English Verse.</p> + +<p><b>MISCELLANIES (including Euphranor, Polonius, etc.).</b> By <span class="smcap">Edward +FitzGerald</span>.</p> + +<p><b>TWO ESSAYS ON OLD AGE AND FRIENDSHIP.</b> Translated from the Latin of +Cicero, with Introduction, by <span class="smcap">E. S. Shuckburgh</span>.</p> + +<p><b>MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS TO HIMSELF.</b> An English Version of the Works +of Marcus Aurelius. By Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">G. H. Rendall</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE HOUSE OF ATREUS:</b> being the Agamemnon, Libation-Bearers, and Furies +of Æschylus. Translated into English verse by <span class="smcap">E. D. A. Morshead</span>, M.A.</p> + +<p><b>THE REPUBLIC OF PLATO.</b> Translated by <span class="smcap">J. Ll. Davies</span>, M.A., and <span class="smcap">D. J. +Vaughan</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE TRIAL AND DEATH OF SOCRATES.</b> Being the Euthyphron, Apology, Crito, +and Phaedo of Plato. Translated by <span class="smcap">F. J. Church</span>.</p> + +<p><b>PHAEDRUS, LYSIS, AND PROTAGORAS OF PLATO.</b> A New Translation by <span class="smcap">J. +Wright</span>.</p> + +<p><b>SHAKESPEARE'S SONGS AND SONNETS.</b> Edited with Notes, by <span class="smcap">F. T. Palgrave</span>.</p> + +<p><b>POEMS OF SHELLEY.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">S. A. Brooke</span>.</p> + +<p><b>SOUTHEY. POEMS.</b> Chosen and arranged by <span class="smcap">E. Dowden</span>.</p> + +<p><b>LYRICAL POEMS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</span>. Selected and Annotated by <span class="smcap">F. +T. Palgrave</span>.</p> + +<p><b>IN MEMORIAM.</b> By <span class="smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE PRINCESS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THEOCRITUS, BION, AND MOSCHUS.</b> Rendered into English Prose by <span class="smcap">Andrew +Lang</span>.</p> + +<p><b>POEMS, RELIGIOUS AND DEVOTIONAL.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. G. Whittier</span>.</p> + +<p><b>POEMS OF WORDSWORTH.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A BOOK OF GOLDEN DEEDS OF ALL TIMES AND ALL COUNTRIES.</b> By <span class="smcap">C. M. Yonge</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A BOOK OF WORTHIES.</b> By <span class="smcap">C. M. Yonge</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE STORY OF THE CHRISTIANS AND MOORS IN SPAIN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charlotte M. Yonge</span>.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3>MACMILLAN & CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span>, LONDON.</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Treasury, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN TREASURY *** + +***** This file should be named 32373-h.htm or 32373-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/3/7/32373/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Juliet Sutherland, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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 distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/32373-h/images/seal.jpg b/32373-h/images/seal.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab48b68 --- /dev/null +++ b/32373-h/images/seal.jpg |
