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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c1260c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62119 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62119) diff --git a/old/62119-0.txt b/old/62119-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 04184b5..0000000 --- a/old/62119-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,29626 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Come Hither, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Come Hither - A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of all Ages - -Author: Various - -Contributor: Alec Buckels - -Editor: Walter de la Mare - -Release Date: May 13, 2020 [EBook #62119] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COME HITHER *** - - - - -Produced by Karin Spence, Tim Lindell and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - COME HITHER - - - - - [Illustration: - - COME - HITHER - - A - COLLECTION - OF RHYMES - AND POEMS - FOR THE - YOUNG OF - ALL AGES - - MADE BY - WALTER DE LA MARE - - AND EMBELLISHED - BY - ALEC BUCKELS - - - CONSTABLE & CO - LONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY - MCMXXIII. - ] - - - - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD. - THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, GLASGOW - - - - - [Illustration: - - TO - LAURA COLTMAN - - IN LOVE AND - GRATITUDE - ] - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - TABLE OF CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - THE STORY OF THIS BOOK vii - - MORNING AND MAY 1 - - MOTHER, HOME, AND SWEETHEART 19 - - FEASTS: FAIRS: BEGGARS: GIPSIES 63 - - BEASTS OF THE FIELD: FOWLS OF THE AIR 87 - - OUPH: ELPHIN: FAY 117 - - SUMMER: GREENWOOD: SOLITUDE 135 - - WAR 165 - - DANCE, MUSIC AND BELLS 195 - - AUTUMN LEAVES: WINTER SNOW 217 - - "LIKE STARS UPON SOME GLOOMY GROVE" 249 - - FAR 289 - - "LILY BRIGHT AND SHINE-A" 343 - - "ECHO THEN SHALL AGAIN - TELL HER I FOLLOW" 371 - - OLD TALES AND BALLADRY 413 - - EVENING AND DREAM 447 - - THE GARDEN 479 - - ABOUT AND ROUNDABOUT 495 - - ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 671 - - INDEX OF AUTHORS 677 - - INDEX OF POEMS 683 - - - [Illustration] - - - - - THE STORY OF THIS BOOK - - -In my rovings and ramblings as a boy I had often skirted the old stone -house in the hollow. But my first clear remembrance of it is of a hot -summer's day. I had climbed to the crest of a hill till then unknown to -me, and stood there, hot and breathless in the bright slippery grass, -looking down on its grey walls and chimneys as if out of a dream. And -as if out of a dream already familiar to me. - -My real intention in setting out from home that morning had been to -get to a place called East Dene. My mother had often spoken to me of -East Dene--of its trees and waters and green pastures, and the rare -birds and flowers to be found there. Ages ago, she had told me, an -ancestor of our family had dwelt in this place. But she smiled a little -strangely when I asked her to take me there. "All in good time, my -dear," she whispered into my ear, "all in very good time! Just follow -your small nose." What kind of time, I wondered, was _very good time_. -And _follow my nose_--how far? Such reflections indeed only made me the -more anxious to be gone. - -Early that morning, then, I had started out when the dew was still -sparkling, and the night mists had but just lifted. But my young legs -soon tired of the steep, boulder-strown hills, the chalky ravines, and -burning sun, and having, as I say, come into view of the house in the -valley, I went no further. Instead, I sat down on the hot turf--the -sweet smell of thyme in the air, a few harebells nodding around me--and -stared, down and down. - -After that first visit, scarcely a week passed but that I found myself -on this hill again. The remembrance of the house stayed in my mind; -would keep returning to me, like a bird to its nest. Sometimes even in -the middle of the night I would wake up and lie unable to sleep again -for thinking of it--seeing it in my head; solemn, secret, strange. - -There is a little flickering lizard called the Chameleon which, they -say, changes its colour according to the place where it happens to be. -So with this house. It was never the same for two hours together. I -have seen it gathered close up in its hollow in the livid and coppery -gloom of storm; crouched like a hare in winter under a mask of snow; -dark and silent beneath the changing sparkle of the stars; and like -a palace out of an Arabian tale in the milky radiance of the moon. -THRAE was the name inscribed on its gateway, but in letters so -faint and faded as to be almost illegible. - -In a sense I was, I suppose, a trespasser in this Thrae; until at least -I became acquainted with Miss Taroone, the lady who lived in it. For -I made pretty free with her valley, paddled and fished in its stream, -and now and then helped myself to a windfall in her green bird-haunted -orchards, where grew a particularly sharp and bright-rinded apple of -which I have never heard the name. As custom gave me confidence, I -ventured nearer and nearer to the house and would sometimes take a -rest squatting on a manger in the big empty barn, looking out into -the sunshine. The wings of the flies shone like glass in its shafts -of light, and the robins whistled under its timber roof so shrill as -almost to deafen one's ears. - -Few strangers passed that way. Now and then I saw in the distance -what might have been a beggar. To judge from his bundle he must have -done pretty well at the house. Once, as I turned out of a little wood -of birches, I met a dreadful-faced man in the lane who lifted up his -hand at sight of me, and with white glaring eyes, uttered a horrible -imprecation. He was chewing some fruit stolen out of the orchard, and -at the very sight of him I ran like Wat himself. - -Once, too, as my head looked over the hill-crest, there stood an old -carriage and a drowsy horse drawn up beside the porch--with its slender -wooden pillars and a kind of tray above, on which rambled winter -jasmine, tufts of self-sown weeds and Traveller's Joy. I edged near -enough to see there was a crown emblazoned on the panel of the carriage -door. Nobody sat inside, and the coachman asleep on the box made me -feel more solitary and inquisitive than ever. - -Yet in its time the old house must have seen plenty of company. Friends -of later years have spoken to me of it. Indeed, not far distant from -Thrae as the crow flies, there was a crossing of high roads, so that -any traveller from elsewhere not in haste could turn aside and examine -the place if he cared for its looks and was in need of a night's -lodging. Yet I do not think many such travellers--if they were men -merely of the Town--can have _chosen_ to lift that knocker or to set -ringing that bell. To any one already lost and benighted its looks -must have been forbidding. - -Well, as I say, again and again, my lessons done, morning or evening -would find me either on the grass slopes above Thrae, or actually in -its valley. If I was tired, I would watch from a good distance off its -small dark windows in their stone embrasures, and up above them the -round greenish tower or turret over which a winged weather-vane twirled -with the wind. I might watch: but the only person that I ever actually -observed at the windows was an old maid with flaps to her cap, who -would sometimes shake a duster out into the air as if for a signal to -someone up in the hills. - -Apart from her, I had occasionally seen Miss Taroone herself in the -overgrown garden, with her immense shears, or with her trencher of -bread-crumbs and other provender, feeding the birds. And I once stole -near enough under a hedge to watch this sight. They hopped and pecked -in a multitude beneath her hands, tits and robins, starlings and -blackbirds, and other much wilder and rarer birds, as if they had no -need here for wings, or were under an enchantment more powerful than -that of mere crumbs of bread. The meal done, the platter empty, Miss -Taroone would clap her hands, and off they would fly with a skirring of -wings, with shrill cries and snatches of song to their haunts. - -She seemed to mind no weather; standing bare-headed in heavy rain or -scorching sunlight. And I confess the sight of her never failed to -alarm me. But I made up my mind always to keep my wits about me and my -eyes open; and never to be _caught_ trespassing. - -Then one day, as I slid down from the roof of the barn from amid the -branches of a chestnut tree, green with its spiky balls of fruit, I -found Miss Taroone standing there in the entry, looking out on me as if -out of a frame, or like a stone figure in the niche of a church. She -made no stir herself, but her eyes did. Clear cold eyes of the colour -of pebbly water, in which I seemed to be of no more importance than a -boat floating on the sea. I could neither speak nor run away. I could -only gawk at her, my pockets bulging with the unripe chestnuts I had -pilfered, and a handsome slit in one leg of my breeches. - -She asked me what I did there; my name; why I was not at school; where -I lived; and did I eat the chestnuts. It appeared she had more often -seen me--I suppose from her windows--than I had seen her. She made -no movement, never even smiled while I stammered out answers to her -questions, but merely kept her eyes steadily fixed on me, while her own -lips just opened enough to let the words out of her mouth. She listened -to me with a severe face, and said, "Well, if you are happy to be here -with the rest, so much the better." - -It was a relief when she turned away, bidding me follow her--and a -foolish figure I must have cut as I clattered after her across the -cobbled yard under the old red-brick arch and so through the porch and -into the house. - -When I was sat down in one of the shaded rooms within the house, she -summoned the tall gaunt old maid with the cap-flaps I had seen at the -windows, and bade her bring me some fruit and a dish of cream. Miss -Taroone watched me while I ate it. And uncommonly good it was, though -I would rather have been enjoying it alone. From the way she looked at -me it might have been supposed it was a bird or a small animal that -was sitting up at her table. The last spoonful finished, she asked me -yet more questions and appeared to be not displeased with my rambling -answers, for she invited me to come again and watched me take up my cap -and retire. - -This was the first time I was ever in Miss Taroone's house--within its -solid walls I mean; and what a multitude of rooms, with their coffers -and presses and cabinets, containing I knew not what treasures and -wonders! But Thrae was not Miss Taroone's only house, for more than -once she spoke of another--named SURE VINE, as if of a family -mansion and estate, very ancient and magnificent. When, thinking of my -mother, I myself ventured a question about East Dene, her green-grey -eyes oddly settled on mine a moment, but she made no answer. I noticed -this particularly. - -Soon I was almost as free and familiar in Miss Taroone's old house as -in my own father's. Yet I cannot say that she was ever anything else -than curt with me in her manner. It was a long time before I became -accustomed to the still, secret way she had of looking at me. I liked -best being in her company when she appeared, as was usually so, not to -be aware that she was not alone. She had again asked me my name "for -a sign" as she said, "to know you by"; though she always afterwards -addressed me as Simon. Certainly in those days I was "simple" enough. - -My next friend was the woman whom I had seen shaking her duster out of -the upper windows. She, I discovered, was called Linnet Sara Queek -or Quek or Cuec or Cueque, I don't know how to spell it. She was an -exceedingly curious woman and looked as if she had never been any -different, though, of course, she must once have been young and have -grown up. She was bony, awkward, and angular, and when you spoke to -her, she turned on you with a look that was at the same time vacant and -piercing. At first she greeted me sourly, but soon became friendlier, -and would allow me to sit in her huge kitchen with her parrot, her -sleek tabby cat, and perhaps a dainty or two out of her larder. - -She was continually muttering--though I could never quite catch what -she said; never idle; and though slow and awkward in her movements, she -did a vast deal of work. With small short-sighted eyes fixed on her -mortar she would stand pounding and pounding; or stewing and seething -things in pots--strange-looking roots and fruits and fungi. Her pantry -was crammed with pans, jars, bottles, and phials, all labelled in her -queer handwriting. An extraordinary place--especially when the sunbeams -of evening struck into it from a high window in its white-washed wall. - -Linnet she might be called, but her voice was no bird's, unless the -crow's; and you would have guessed at once, at sight of her standing in -front of the vast open hearth, stooping a little, her long gaunt arms -beside her, that her other name was Sara. But she could tell curious -and rambling stories (as true as she could make them); and many of -them were about the old days in Thrae, older days in Sure Vine, and -about Miss Taroone, in whose service she had been since she was a small -child. - -She told me, too, some specially good tales--as good as Grimm--about -some villages she knew of called the Ten Laps; and gave me a custard -when I asked for more. I once mentioned East Dene to her, too, and she -said there was a short cut to it (though it seemed to me a long way -about) through the quarry, by the pits, and that way round. "And then -you come to a Wall," she said, staring at me. "And you climb over." - -"Did _you_?" said I, laughing; and at that she was huffed. - -Boy though I was, it occurred to me that in this immense house there -must be a great deal more work than Sara could manage unaided. -Something gave me the fancy that other hands must lend their help; -but if any maids actually came in to Thrae from East Dene, or from -elsewhere, they must have come and gone very late, or early. It seemed -bad manners to be too curious. On the other hand, I rarely saw much of -the back parts of the house. - -I have sometimes wondered if Thrae had not once in fact lain within -the borders of East Dene, and that being so, if Miss Taroone, like -myself, was unaware of it. It may have been merely pride that closed -her lips, for one day, she showed me, with a curious smile, how Thrae's -architect, centuries before, had planned its site. She herself led me -from room to room; and she talked as she had never talked before. - -Its southernmost window looked on a valley, beyond which on clear still -days was visible the sea, and perhaps a brig or a schooner on its -surface--placid blue as turquoise. Sheer against its easternmost window -the sun mounted to his summer solstice from in between a cleft of the -hills--like a large topaz between the forks of a catapult. On one side -of this cleft valley was a windmill, its sails lanking up into the sky, -and sometimes spinning in the wind with an audible faint clatter. Who -owned the mill and what he ground I never heard. - -Northwards, through a round bull's-eye window you could see, past -a maze of coppices and hills, and in the distance, the cock of a -cathedral spire. And to the west stood a wood of yew, its pool -partially greened over, grey with willows, and the haunt of rare birds. -On the one side of this pool spread exceedingly calm meadows; and on -the other, in a hollow, the graveyard lay. The stones and bones in it -were all apparently of Miss Taroone's kinsfolk. At least Linnet Sara -told me so. Nor was she mournful about it. She seemed to have nobody to -care for but her mistress; working for love, whatever her wages might -be. - -It is an odd thing to say, but though I usually tried to avoid meeting -Miss Taroone, and was a little afraid of her, there was a most curious -happiness at times in being in her company. She never once asked me -about my character, never warned me of anything, never said "You must"; -and yet I knew well that if in stupidity or carelessness I did anything -in her house which she did not approve of, my punishment would come. - -She once told me, "Simon, you have, I see, the beginnings of a bad -feverish cold. It is because you were stupid enough yesterday to -stand with the sweat on your face talking to me in a draught. It will -probably be severe." And so it was. - -She never said anything affectionate; she never lost her temper. I -never saw her show any pity or meanness or revenge. "Well, Simon," -she would say, "Good morning"; or "Good evening" (as the case might -be); "you are always welcome. Have a good look about you. Don't waste -your time here. Even when all is said, you will not see too much of me -and mine. But don't believe _everything_ you may hear in the kitchen. -Linnet Sara is a good servant, but still a groper." - -Not the least notion of what she meant occurred to me. But I peacocked -about for a while as if she had paid me a compliment. An evening or two -afterwards, and soon after sunset, I found her sitting in her westward -window. Perhaps because rain was coming, the crouching head-stones -under the hill looked to be furlongs nearer. "Sleeping, waking; waking, -sleeping, Simon;" she said, "sing while you can." Like a little owl I -fixed sober eyes on the yew-wood, but again I hadn't any inkling of -what she meant. - -She would sit patiently listening to me as long as I cared to unbosom -myself to her. Her calm, severe, and yet, I think, beautiful face -is clear in my memory. It resembles a little the figure in Albrecht -Dürer's picture of a woman sitting beneath the wall of a house, with a -hound couched beside her, an inclined ladder, the rain-bowed sea in the -distance, and a bat--a tablet of magic numbers and a pent-housed bell -over her head. - -Sometimes I would be questioned at home about my solitary wanderings, -but I never mentioned Miss Taroone's name, and spoke of her house a -little deceitfully, since I did not confess how much I loved being in -it. - -One evening--and it was already growing late--Miss Taroone, after -steadily gazing into my eyes for a few moments, asked me if I liked -pictures. I professed that I did, though I had never spent much time -in looking at the queer portraits and charts and mementoes that hung -thick and closely on her own walls. "Well," she replied, "if you like -pictures I must first tell you about Nahum." - -I could not at first make head or tail of Mr. Nahum. Even now I am -uncertain whether he was Miss Taroone's brother or her nephew or a -cousin many times removed; or whether perhaps she was really and truly -Mrs. Taroone and he her only son; or she still Miss Taroone and he an -adopted one. I am not sure even whether or not she had much love for -him, though she appeared to speak of him with pride. What I do know is -that Miss Taroone had nurtured him from his cradle, and had taught him -all the knowledge that was not already his by right of birth. - -Before he was come even to be my own age, she told me, Nahum Taroone -had loved "exploring." As a boy he had ranged over the countryside for -miles around. I never dared ask her if he had sat on Linnet Sara's -"Wall"! He had scrawled plans and charts and maps, marking on them all -his wanderings. And not only the roads, paths, chaces, and tracks, the -springs and streams, but the rarer birds' nesting-places and the rarer -wild flowers, the eatable or poisonous fruits, trees, animal lairs, -withies for whips, clay for modelling, elder shoots for pitch pipes, -pebbles for his catapult, flint arrows, and everything of that kind. He -was a night-boy too; could guide himself by the stars, was a walking -almanac of the moon; and could decoy owls and nightjars, and find any -fox's or badger's earth he was after, even in a dense mist. - -I came to know Mr. Nahum pretty well--so far at any rate as one can -know anybody from hearsay--before Miss Taroone referred to the pictures -again. And I became curious about him, and hoped to see this strange -traveller, and frequently hung about Thrae in mere chance of that. - -Strangely enough, by the looks on her face and the tones of her voice, -Miss Taroone was inclined to mock a little at Mr. Nahum because of -his restlessness. She didn't seem to approve of his leaving her so -much--though she herself had come from Sure Vine. Her keys would jangle -at her chatelaine as if they said, "Ours secrets enough." And she -would stand listening, and mute, as if in expectation of voices or a -footfall. Then as secretly as I could, I would get away. - -All old memories resemble a dream. And so too do these of Miss Taroone -and Thrae. When I was most busy and happy and engrossed in it, it -seemed to be a house which might at any moment vanish before your eyes, -showing itself to be but the outer shell or hiding place of an abode -still more enchanting. - -This sounds nonsensical. But if you have ever sat and watched a -Transformation Scene in a pantomime, did you suppose, just before -the harlequin slapped with his wand on what looked like a plain -brick-and-mortar wall, that it would instantly after dissolve -into a radiant coloured scene of trees and fountains and hidden -beings--growing lovelier in their own showing as the splendour spread -and their haunts were revealed? Well, so at times I used to feel in -_Thrae_. - -At last, one late evening in early summer, beckoning me with her -finger, Miss Taroone lit a candle in an old brass stick and bade me -follow her down a long narrow corridor and up a steep winding stone -staircase. "You have heard, Simon, of Mr. Nahum's round room; now you -shall see it." - -On the wider step at the top, before a squat oak door, she stayed, -lifted her candle, and looked at me. "You will remember," she said, -"that what I am about to admit you into is Mr. Nahum's room; not mine. -You may look at the pictures, you may examine anything that interests -you, you may compose yourself to the view. But replace what you look -at, have a care in your handling, do nothing out of _idle_ curiosity, -and come away when you are tired. Remember that Mr. Nahum may be -returning at any hour. He would be pleased to find you here. But hasten -away out of his room the very instant you feel you have no right, lot -or pleasure to be in it. Hasten away, I mean, so that you may return to -it with a better mind and courage." - -She laid two fingers on my shoulder, cast another look into my face -under her candle, turned the key in the lock, gently thrust me beyond -the door, shut it: and left me to my own devices. - -What first I noticed, being for awhile a little alarmed at this strange -proceeding, was the evening light that poured in on the room from the -encircling windows. Below, by walking some little distance from room -to room, corridor to corridor, you could get (as I have said) a single -narrow view out north, south, east or west. Here, you could stand in -the middle, and turning slowly like a top on your heels, could watch -float by one after the other, hill and windmill, ocean, distant city, -dark yew-wood. - -The crooning of doves was audible on the roof, swallows were coursing -in the placid and rosy air, the whole world seemed to be turning softly -out of the day's sunshine, stretching long dark shadows across hill and -valley as if in delight to be on the verge of rest and slumber again, -now that the heats of full summer were so near. - -But I believe my first _thought_ was--What a boiling hot and glaring -place to sit in in the middle of the morning. And then I noticed that -heavy curtains hung on either side each rounded window, for shade, -concealment and solitude. As soon, however, as my eyes were accustomed -to the dazzle, I spent little time upon the great view, but immediately -peered about me at what was in this curious chamber. - -Never have I seen in any room--and this was none so large--such a -hugger-mugger of strange objects--odd-shaped coloured shells, fragments -of quartz, thunderbolts and fossils; skins of brilliant birds; -outlandish shoes; heads, faces, masks of stone, wood, glass, wax, and -metal; pots, images, glass shapes, and what not; lanterns and bells; -bits of harness and ornament and weapons. There were, besides, two -or three ships of different rigs in glass cases, and one in a green -bottle; peculiar tools, little machines; silent clocks, instruments -of music, skulls and bones of beasts, frowsy bunches of linen or silk -queerly marked, and a mummied cat (I think). And partly concealed, as -I twisted my head, there, dangling in an alcove, I caught sight of a -full-length skeleton, one hollow eye-hole concealed by a curtain looped -to the floor from the ceiling. - -I just cast my glance round on all these objects without of course -seeing them one by one. The air was clear as water in the evening -light, a little dust had fallen; all was in order, though at that first -hasty glance there seemed none. Last, but not least, there was row on -row of painted pictures. Wherever there was space on the walls free -of books, this round tower room was hung with them as close as their -frames and nails allowed. There I stood, hearing faintly the birds, -conscious of the pouring sunlight, the only live creature amidst this -departed traveller's treasures and possessions. - -I was so much taken aback by it all, so mystified by Miss Taroone's -ways, so cold at sight of the harmless bones above me, and felt so -suddenly out of my familiars, that without a moment's hesitation I -turned about, flung open the door and went helter skelter clattering -down the stairs--out of the glare into the gloom. - -There was no sign of Miss Taroone as I crossed through the house and -sneaked off hastily through the garden. And not until the barn had -shut me out from the lower windows behind me did I look back at the -upper ones of Mr. Nahum's tower. Until that moment I did not know how -frightened I had been. Yet why, or at what, I cannot even now decide. - -But I soon overcame this folly. Miss Taroone made no inquiry how I had -fared on this first visit to Mr. Nahum's fortress. As I have said, she -seldom asked questions--except with her eyes, expressions, and hands. -But some time afterwards, and after two or three spells of exploration, -I myself began to talk to her of the strange things up there. - -"I have looked at a good many, Miss Taroone. But the pictures! Some of -them are of places I _believe_ I know. I wish I could be a traveller -and see what the others are of. Did Mr. Nahum paint them all himself?" - -Miss Taroone was sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, her eyes -and face very intent, as always happened when Mr. Nahum's name was -mentioned. - -"I know very little about them, Simon. When Nahum was younger he used -to make pictures of Thrae, and of the woods and valleys hereabouts. -There are boxfulls put away. Others are pictures brought back from -foreign parts, but many of them, as I believe," she turned her face and -looked into a shadowy corner of the room, "are pictures of nothing on -earth. He has his two worlds. Take your time. Some day you too, I dare -say, will go off on your travels. Remember that, like Nahum, you are as -old as the hills which neither spend nor waste time, but dwell in it -for ages, as if it were light or sunshine. Some day perhaps Nahum will -shake himself free of Thrae altogether. I don't _know_, myself, Simon. -This house is enough for me, and what I remember of Sure Vine, compared -with which Thrae is but the smallest of bubbles in a large glass." - -I do not profess to have understood one half of what Miss Taroone meant -in these remarks. It was in English and yet in a hidden tongue. - -But by this time I had grown to be bolder in her company, and pounced -on this:--"What, please Miss Taroone, do you mean by the 'two worlds'? -Or shall I ask downstairs?" I added the latter question because now and -then in the past Miss Taroone had bidden me go down to Linnet Sara for -my answers. She now appeared at first not to have heard it. - -"Now I must say to you, Simon," she replied at last, folding her hands -on her knee, "wherever you may be in that body of yours, you feel you -look out of it, do you not?" - -I nodded. "Yes, Miss Taroone." - -"Now think, then, of Mr. Nahum's round room; where is that?" - -"Up there," said I, pointing up a rambling finger. - -"Ah!" cried Miss Taroone, "so it may be. But even if to-morrow you are -thousands of miles distant from here on the other side of this great -Ball, or in its bowels, or flying free--you will still carry a picture -of it, will you not? And that will be within you?" - -"Yes, in my mind, Miss Taroone?" I answered rather sheepishly. - -"In your mind," she echoed me, but not as if she were particularly -pleased at the fact. "Well, many of the pictures I take it in Mr. -Nahum's round tower are of _that_ world. His MIND. I have never -examined them. My duties are elsewhere. Your duty is to keep your -senses, heart and courage and to go where you are called. And in black -strange places you will at times lose yourself and find yourself, -Simon. Now Mr. Nahum is calling. Don't think of me too much. I have -great faith in him. Sit up there with him then. Share your eyes with -his pictures. And having seen them, compare them if you will. Say, This -is this, and that is that. And make of all that he has exactly what use -you can." - -With this counsel in my head I once more groped my way up the corkscrew -stone staircase, and once more passed on from picture to picture; in my -engrossment actually knocking my head against the dangling foot-bones -of Mr. Nahum's treasured and now unalarming skeleton. - -The pictures were of all kinds and sizes--in water colour, in chalks, -and in oil. Some I liked for their vivid colours and deep shadows, and -some I did not like at all. Nor could I always be sure even what they -were intended to represent. Many of them completely perplexed me. A few -of them seemed to me to be absurd; some made me stupidly ashamed; and -one or two of them terrified me. But I went on examining them when I -felt inclined, and a week or so after, as I was lifting out one of them -into the sunshine, by chance it twisted on its cord and disclosed its -wooden back. - -And there, pasted on to it, was a scrap of yellowing paper with the -letters BLAKE, followed by a number--CXLVII, in Roman figures. As with -this one, so with the others. Each had its name and a number. - -And even as I stood pondering what this might mean, my eyes rested on -a lower shelf of one of Mr. Nahum's cases of books--book-cases which -I have forgotten to say stood all round the lower part of the room. I -had already discovered that many of these books were the writings of -travellers in every part of the globe. One whole book-case consisted of -what Mr. Nahum appeared to call Kitchen Work. But the one on a lower -shelf which had now taken my attention was new to me--an enormous, -thick, home-made-looking volume covered in a greenish shagreen or -shark-skin. - -Scrawled in ungainly capitals on the strip of vellum pasted to the back -of this book was its title: THEOTHERWORLDE. Would you believe it?--at -first I was stupid enough to suppose this title was one word, a word -in a strange tongue, which I pronounced to myself as best I could, -THEEOTHAWORLDIE--saying the TH as in _thimble_. And that is what, -merely for old sake's sake, I have continued to call the book in my -mind to this day! - -I glanced out of the window. The upper boughs of the yew-wood and the -stones this side of it among the bright green grasses were impurpled by -the reflected sunlight. Nothing there but motionless shadows. I stood -looking vacantly out for a moment or two; then stooped and lugged out -the ponderous fusty old volume on to the floor and raised its clumsy -cover. - -To my surprise and pleasure, I found, that attached within was the -drawing of a boy of about my own age, but dressed like a traveller, -whose face faintly resembled a portrait I had noticed on the walls -downstairs, though this child had wings painted to his shoulders and -there was a half circle of stars around his head. Beneath this portrait -in the book, in small letters, was scrawled in a faded handwriting, -NAHUM TARUNE. This, then, was Mr. Nahum when he was a boy. It -pleased me to find that he was no better a speller than myself. He had -not even got his own name right! I liked his face. He looked out from -under his stars at me, full in the eyes. - -Next--after I had searched his looks and clothes and what he carried -pretty closely--I turned over a few of the stiff leaves and found more -of his writing with a big VII scrawled on the top. On page one of this -book you will find the writing. I should have been a stupider boy even -than I was if I had not at once turned over the pictures till I came to -that with VII on the label on the back of it. This picture was of a -Maze outlined in gaudy colours which faded towards the middle--a sort -of oasis in which grew a tree. Fabulous-looking animals and creatures -with wings sprawled around its margins. After repeated attempts I -found to my disappointment that your only way out of the oasis and the -maze was, after long groping, by the way you went in. Underneath it -was written "_This is the key._" And above it in green letters stood -this:--Behold upon the mountains the feet of him that bringeth good -tidings, that publisheth peace! - -It was unfortunate that so little more of daylight was now left dying -in the sky that evening; for as yet I had not the confidence to kindle -the wax candles that stood in their brass sticks in the round tower. -It was high time for me to be getting home. In my haste to be off I -nearly collided with Miss Taroone, who happened to be standing in the -dusklight looking out from under her porch. Too much excited even to -beg her pardon, I blurted out: "Miss Taroone, I have found out what -the pictures are of. It's a Book. _Theeothaworldie._ Mr. Nahum's -portrait's in it, but they've put wings to him; and it's all in his -writing--rhymes." - -She looked down at me, though I could not quite see her face. - -"Then, good-night to you, Simon; and happy dreams," she said, in her -unfriendly voice. - -"I like the round room better and better," I replied as heartily as I -could. "That picture of Mr. Nahum--and there are lots more, I think--is -a _little_ bit like an uncle of mine who died in Russia; my Uncle John." - -"John's as good a name, I suppose, as any other, Simon," said Miss -Taroone. She stood looking out on the dusky country scene. "There's a -heavy dew tonight, and the owls are busy." - -They were indeed. Their screechings sounded on all sides of me as I ran -off homewards, chanting over to myself the words that had somehow stuck -in my memory. - -Well, at last I began to read in Mr. Nahum's book--I won't say page -by page, but as the fancy took me. It consisted chiefly of rhymes and -poems, and some of them had pictured capitals and were decorated in -clear bright colours like the pages of the old books illuminated by -monks centuries ago. Apart from the poems were here and there pieces -of prose. These, I found, always had some bearing on the poems, and, -like them, many of them were queerly spelt. Occasionally Mr. Nahum had -jotted down his own thoughts in the margin. But the pictures were my -first concern. - -Sometimes I went off to them from the book in order to find the -particular one I wanted. And sometimes the other way round: I would -have a good long stare at a picture, then single out the proper rhyme -in the book. Often, either in one way or the other, I failed. For there -were far fewer pictures than there were pages in the book, and for -scores of pages I found no picture at all. It seemed Mr. Nahum had made -paintings only of those he liked best. - -The book itself, I found, was the first of three, the other two being -similar to itself but much thicker and heavier. Into these I dipped -occasionally, but found that the rhymes in them interested me less -or were less easily understandable. Even some of those in the first -book were a little beyond my wits at the time. But experience seems to -be like the shining of a bright lantern. It suddenly makes clear in -the mind what was already there perhaps, but dim. And often though I -immediately liked what I read, long years were to go by before I really -understood it, made it my own. There would come a moment, something -would happen; and I would say to myself:--"Oh, that, then, is what -_that_ meant!" - -Before going any further I must confess that I was exceedingly slow -over Mr. Nahum's writings. Even over Volume I. When first I opened its -pages I had had a poor liking for poetry because of a sort of contempt -for it. "Poetry!" I would scoff to myself, and would shut up the covers -of any such book with a kind of yawn inside me. Some of it had come my -way in lesson books. This I could gabble off like a parrot, and with as -much understanding; and I had just begun to grind out a little Latin -verse for my father. - -But I had never troubled to think about it; to share my Self with it; -to examine it in order to see whether or not it was true; or to ask -why it was written in this one way and in no other way. But apart -from this, there were many old rhymes in Mr. Nahum's book--nursery -things--which I had known since I knew anything. And I still have an -old childish love for rhymes and jingles like them. - -But what about the others? I began to ponder. After being so many hours -alone in Mr. Nahum's room, among his secret belongings, I almost felt -his presence there. When your mind is sunk in study, it is as if you -were in a dream. But you cannot tell where, or in whose company, you -may wake out of a dream. I remember one sultry afternoon being startled -out of my wits by a sudden clap of thunder. I looked up, to find the -whole room black, zigzag, and strange, and for a moment I fancied Mr. -Nahum was actually there behind me; and not a friendly Mr. Nahum. - -That is mere fancy; though in other ways he became so real to me at -last that I would do things as if he had asked me to do them. For this -reason, I think, I persevered with his book, swallowing some of the -poems as if they were physic, simply because he had written them there. -But the more I read, the more I came to enjoy them for their own sakes. -Not all of them, of course. But I did see this, that like a carpenter -who makes a table, a man who has written a poem has written it like -that _on purpose_. - -With this thought in my head I tried one day to alter the words of -one or two of the simple and easy poems; or to put the words in a -different order. And I found by so doing that you not only altered -the sound of the poem, but that even the slightest alteration in the -sound a little changed the sense. Either you lost something of the tune -and runningness; or the words did not clash right; or you blurred the -picture the words gave you; or some half-hidden meaning vanished away. -I don't mean that every poem is perfect; but only that when I changed -them it was almost always very much for the worse. I was very slow -in all this; but, still, I went on. No. III, I remember, was the old -nursery jingle, "Old King Cole":-- - - Old King Cole was a merry old soul, - And a merry old soul was he; - He called for his pipe, - And he called for his bowl, - And he called for his fiddlers three.... - -Now, suppose, instead of these four lines of the rhyme you put:-- - - Old King Cole was a jolly old man, - The jolliest old man alive; - He called for his cup, and he called for a pipe - And he called for his fiddlers five. - -By so doing you have actually added two extra fiddlers; and yet somehow -you have taken away some of the old three's music. Or you may put:-- - -'Cole the First was now a monarch advanced in age, and of a convivial -temperament. On any festive occasion he would bid his retainers bring -him his goblet and smoking materials, and would command his musicians -to entertain him on their violins: which they did.' - -Well, all the _facts_ are there and many more words, but scarcely a -trace of _my_ old King Cole, and not a single tweedle-eedle of the -fiddling. Would anyone trouble to learn that by heart? - -Now underneath this rhyme Mr. Nahum had written a sort of historical -account of King Cole, a good deal of it in German and other languages. -All I could make out of it was this: if ever a King Cole inhabited the -world, he probably had another name; that he lived too far back in -history for anyone to make sure when he had lived or that he had lived -at all; and that his "pipe" and "bowl" probably stand for objects much -more mysterious and far less common. - -Having the rhyme quite free to myself, I didn't mind reading this; but -if ever I have to give up either, I shall keep the rhyme. - -Having discovered, then, that every poem must have been written as it -was written, on purpose, I took a little more pains with those I cared -for least. In some even then I could not quite piece out the meaning; -in others I could not easily catch the beat and rhythm and tune. But I -learned to read them very slowly, so as fully and quietly to fill up -the time allowed for each line and to listen to its music, and to see -and hear all that the words were saying. - -Then, too, what Miss Taroone had said came back to my mind. Even when -Mr. Nahum's poems were about real things and places and people, they -were still only of places and people the words made for me in my -_mind_. I must, that is, myself imagine all they told. And I found that -the mention in a poem even of quite common and familiar things--such as -a star, or a buttercup, or a beetle--did not bring into the mind quite -the same kind of images of them as the things and creatures themselves -do in the naked eye. - - Now the day is over, - Night is drawing nigh; - Shadows of the evening - Steal across the sky.... - -This was one of the earliest poems in Mr. Nahum's book. I had often, of -course, seen the shadows of evening--every grass-blade or pebble casts -its own; but these words not only called them vividly into my mind, but -set shadows there (shadows across the sky) that I had never really seen -at all--with my own eyes I mean. I discovered afterwards, also, that -shadows are only the absence of light, though light is needed to make -them visible. Just the same, again, with the sailors in the same poem: - - Guard the sailors tossing - On the deep blue sea.... - -They are plain and common words, but their _order_ here is the poem's -only, and the effect they had on me, and still have, is different from -the effect of any other words on the same subject. Though, too, like -Mr. Nahum, I have now seen something of the world (have been seasick -and nearly drowned) I have never forgotten those imaginary sailors, -or that imaginary sea; can still hear the waves lapping against that -(unmentioned) ship's thin wooden walls, as if I myself were sleeping -there, down below. - -So what I then read has remained a clear and single remembrance, as if -I myself had seen it in a world made different, or in a kind of vision -or dream. And I think Mr. Nahum had chosen such poems in Volume I. -as carried away the imagination like that; either into the past, or -into another mind, or into the all-but-forgotten; at times as if into -another world. And this kind has been my choice in this book. - -Not that his picture to a particular poem was always the picture I -should have made of it. Take for example another nursery jingle in his -book: - - 'How many miles to Babylon?' - 'Three score and ten.' - 'Can I get there by candle-light?' - 'Ay, and back again.' - -Mr. Nahum's corresponding picture was not of Babylon or of a candle, or -of a traveller at all, but of a stone tomb, On its thick upper slab he -had drawn-in an old earthen lamp, with a serpent for handle--its wick -alight, and shining up on a small owl perched in the lower branches of -the thick tree above. - -That is one of the pleasures of reading--you may make any picture out -of the words you can and will; and a poem may have as many different -meanings as there are different minds. - -There I would sit, then, and Mr. Nahum's book made of "one little room -an everywhere." And though I was naturally rather stupid and dense, -I did in time realise that "rare poems ask rare friends," and that -even the simplest ones may have secrets which will need a pretty close -searching out. - -Of course I could not copy out all of the poems even in -THEEOTHAWORLDIE, Volume I., and I took very few from Volumes -II. and III. I chose what I liked best--those that, when I read them, -never failed to carry me away, as if on a Magic Carpet, or in Seven -League Boots, into a region of their own. When the nightingale sings, -other birds, it is said, will sit and listen to him: and I remember -very well hearing a nightingale so singing on a spray in a dewy hedge, -and there were many small birds perched mute and quiet near. The cock -crows at midnight; and for miles around his kinsmen answer. The fowler -whistles his decoy for the wild duck to come. So certain rhymes and -poems affected my mind when I was young, and continue to do so now that -I am old. - -To these (and the few bits of prose) which I chose from Mr. Nahum, I -added others afterwards, and they are in this book too. All of them are -in English; a few from over the ocean: but how very few they all are -by comparison with the multitudes even of their own kind. And there are -the whole world's languages besides! Even of my own favourites not all -have found a place. There was not room enough. I have left out others -also that may be found easily elsewhere. I am afraid, too, there may be -many mistakes in my copying, though I have tried to be careful. - -Miss Taroone knew that I was making use of Mr. Nahum's book; though she -never questioned me about it. I came and went in her house at last like -a rabbit in a warren, a mouse in a mousery. The hours I spent in those -far-gone days in Mr. Nahum's round room! At times I wearied of it, and -hated his books, and even wished I had never so much as set eyes on -Thrae at all. - -But after such sour moments, a gossip and an apple with Linnet Sara -in her kitchen, or a scamper home, or a bathe under the hazels in the -stream whose source, I believe, is in the hills beyond East Dene, -would set me to rights again. For sheer joy of return I could scarcely -breathe for a while after remounting the stone staircase, re-entering -Mr. Nahum's room, and closing the door behind me. - -From above his broad scrawled pages I would lift my eyes to his windows -and stare as if out of one dream into another. How strange from across -the sky was the gentle scented breeze blowing in on my cheek, softly -stirring the dried kingfisher skin that hung from its beam; how near -understanding then the tongues of the wild birds; how close the painted -scene--as though I were but a picture too, and this my frame. - -But there came a day that was to remove me out of the neighbourhood -of Miss Taroone's Thrae into a different kind of living altogether. I -was to be sent to school. After a hot debate with myself, and why I -scarcely know, I asked my father's permission to spend the night at -Miss Taroone's. He gave me a steady look and said, Yes. - -I found Miss Taroone seated on the steps of her porch, and now that I -look back at her then, she curiously reminds me--though she was ages -older--of a picture you will find in the second stanza of poem No. -233 in this book. Standing before her--it was already getting towards -dark--I said I was come to bid her goodbye; and might I spend the night -in Mr. Nahum's round room. She raised her eyes on me, luminous and -mysterious as the sky itself, even though in the dusk. - -"You may _say_, goodbye, Simon," she replied; "but unless I myself am -much mistaken in you, your feet will not carry you out of all thought -of me; and some day they will return to me whether you will or not." - -Inside I was already in a flutter at thought of the hours to come, and -I was accustomed to her strange speeches, though this struck on my mind -more coldly than usual. I made a little jerk forwards; "I must thank -you, please Miss Taroone, for having been so kind to me," I gulped in -an awkward voice. "And I hope," I added, as she made no answer, "I hope -I haven't been much of a bother--coming like this, I mean?" - -"None, Simon;" was her sole reply. The hand that I had begun to hold -out, went back into my pocket, and feeling extremely uncomfortable I -half turned away. - -"Why, who knows?--" said the solemn voice, "Mr. Nahum may at this very -moment be riding home. Have a candle alight." - -"Thank you, Miss Taroone. Thank you very much indeed." - -With that I turned about and hastened across the darkening garden into -the house. My candlestick and matches stood ready on the old oak bench -at the foot of the tower. I lit up, and began to climb the cold steps. -My heart in my mouth, I hesitated at the hob-nailed door; but managed -at last to turn the key in the lock. - -With two taller candles kindled, and its curtains drawn over the -western window, I at once began to copy out the last few things I -wanted for mine in Volume I. But there were two minds in me as midnight -drew on, almost two selves, the one busy with pen and ink, the other -stealthily listening to every faintest sound in my eyrie, a swift -glance now and then up at the darkened glass only setting me more -sharply to work. I had never before sat in so enormous a silence; the -scratching of my pen its only tongue. - -Steadily burned my candles; no sound of hoofs, no owl-cry, no knocking -disturbed my peace; the nightingales had long since journeyed South. -What I had hoped for, expected, dreaded in this long vigil, I cannot -recall; all that I remember of it is that I began to shiver a little at -last, partly because my young nerves were on the stretch, and partly -because the small hours grew chill. In the very middle of the night -there came to my ear what seemed a distant talking or gabbling. It -may have been fancy; it may have been Linnet Sara. What certainly was -fancy is the notion that, as I started up out of an instant's drowse, -a stooping shape had swiftly withdrawn itself from me. But this was -merely the shadow of a dream. - -I returned at last from the heavy sleep I had fallen into, my forehead -resting on the backs of my hands, and they flat on the huge open -volume, my whole body stiff with cold, and the first clear grey of -daybreak in the East. And suddenly, as my awakened eyes stared dully -about them in that thin light--the old windows, the strange outlandish -objects, the clustering pictures, the countless books, my own ugly -writing on my paper--an indescribable despair and anxiety--almost -terror even--seized upon me at the rushing thought of my own -_ignorance_; of how little I knew, of how unimportant I was. And, again -and again, my ignorance. Then I thought of Miss Taroone, of Mr. Nahum, -of the life before me, and everything yet to do. And a sullen misery -swept up in me at these reflections. And once more I wished from the -bottom of my heart that I had never come to this house. - -But gradually the light broadened. And with it, confidence began to -return. The things around me that had seemed strange and hostile became -familiar again. I stood up and stretched myself and, I think, muttered -a prayer. - -To this day I see the marvellous countryside of that morning with -its hills and low thick mists and woodlands stretched like a painted -scene beneath the windows--and that finger of light from the risen Sun -presently piercing across the dark air, and as if by a miracle causing -birds and water to awake and sing and shine. - -With a kind of grief that was yet rapture in my mind, I stood looking -out over the cold lichen-crusted shingled roof of Thrae--towards -the East and towards those far horizons. Yet again the apprehension -(that was almost a hope) drew over me that at any moment wall and -chimney-shaft might thin softly away, and the Transformation Scene -begin. I was but just awake: and so too was the world itself, and ever -is. And somewhere--Wall or no Wall--was my mother's East Dene.... - -In a while I crept softly downstairs, let myself out, and ran off into -the morning. Having climbed the hill from which I had first stared down -upon Thrae, I stopped for a moment to recover my breath, and looked -back. I looked back. - -The gilding sun-rays beat low upon the house in the valley. All was -still, wondrous, calm. For a moment my heart misgave me at this -farewell. The next, in sheer excitement--the cold sweet air, the -height, the morning, a few keen beckoning stars--I broke into a kind -of Indian war-dance in the thin dewy grass, and then, with a last wave -of my hand, like Mr. Nahum himself, I set off at a sharp walk on the -journey that has not yet come to an end. - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - MORNING AND MAY - - - 1 THIS IS THE KEY - - This is the Key of the Kingdom: - In that Kingdom is a city; - In that city is a town; - In that town there is a street; - In that street there winds a lane; - In that lane there is a yard; - In that yard there is a house; - In that house there waits a room; - In that room an empty bed; - And on that bed a basket-- - A Basket of Sweet Flowers: - _Of Flowers, of Flowers;_ - _A Basket of Sweet Flowers_. - - Flowers in a Basket; - Basket on the bed; - Bed in the chamber; - Chamber in the house; - House in the weedy yard; - Yard in the winding lane; - Lane in the broad street; - Street in the high town; - Town in the city; - City in the Kingdom-- - This is the Key of the Kingdom. - _Of the Kingdom this is the Key._ - - - 2 A NEW YEAR CAROL - - Here we bring new water - from the well so clear, - For to worship God with, - this happy New Year. - Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, - the water and the wine; - The seven bright gold wires - and the bugles that do shine. - - Sing reign of Fair Maid, - with gold upon her toe,-- - Open you the West Door, - and turn the Old Year go. - - Sing reign of Fair Maid - with gold upon her chin,-- - Open you the East Door, - and let the New Year in. - Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, - the water and the wine; - The seven bright gold wires - and the bugles they do shine. - - - 3 HEY! NOW THE DAY DAWNS - - "Hay, nou the day dauis; "Hey! now the day dawns; - The jolie Cok crauis; The jolly Cock crows; - Nou shroudis the shauis, Thick-leaved the greenshaws, - Throu Natur anone. Through Nature anon. - The thissell-cok cryis The thistle-cock cries - On louers wha lyis, On lovers who lies, - Nou skaillis the skyis; All cloudless the skies; - The nicht is neir gone. The night is near gone. - - "The feildis ouerflouis "The fields overflow - With gowans that grouis, With daisies a-blow, - - Quhair lilies lyk lou is, And lilies like fire shine, - Als rid as the rone. And red is the rowan. - The turtill that true is, The wood-dove that true is - With nots that reneuis, Her crooling reneweth, - Hir pairtie perseuis; And her sweet mate pursueth; - The nicht is neir gone. The night is near gone. - - "Nou Hairtis with Hyndis, "Now Harts with their Hinds - Conforme to thair kyndis, Conform to their kinds, - Hie tursis thair tyndis, They vaunt their branched antlers, - On grund whair they grone. They bell and they groan. - Nou Hurchonis, with Hairis, Now Urchins[1] and Hares - Ay passis in pairis; Keep apassing in pairs; - Quhilk deuly declaris Which duly declares - The nicht is neir gone...." The night is near gone...." - - ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE - - - 4 THE SLUGGARD - - 'Tis the voice of a sluggard; I heard him complain-- - "You have waked me too soon; I must slumber again;" - As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, - Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head. - - "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber"-- - Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number; - And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, - Or walks about saunt'ring, or trifling he stands. - - I passed by his garden, and saw the wild brier - The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher; - The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags; - And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs. - - I made him a visit, still hoping to find - That he took better care for improving his mind; - He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drinking, - But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking. - - Said I then to my heart: "Here's a lesson for me; - That man's but a picture of what I might be; - But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding, - Who taught me betimes to love working and reading." - - ISAAC WATTS - - - 5 HARK, HARK, THE LARK - - Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heaven's gate sings, - And Phoebus 'gins arise, - His Steeds to water at those Springs - On chaliced Flowres that lyes: - And winking Mary-buds begin - To ope their Golden eyes: - With every thing that pretty is, - My Lady sweet, arise: - Arise, arise! - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 6 THE LARK NOW LEAVES HIS WATERY NEST - - The lark now leaves his watery nest, - And climbing shakes his dewy wings; - He takes your window for the East, - And to implore your light, he sings: - Awake, awake! the morn will never rise - Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes. - - The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, - The ploughman from the sun his season takes; - But still the lover wonders what they are - Who look for day before his mistress wakes: - Awake, awake! break through your veils of lawn; - Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn! - - SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT - - - 7 EARLY MORN - - When I did wake this morn from sleep, - It seemed I heard birds in a dream; - Then I arose to take the air-- - The lovely air that made birds scream; - Just as a green hill launched the ship - Of gold, to take its first clear dip. - - And it began its journey then, - As I came forth to take the air; - The timid Stars had vanished quite, - The Moon was dying with a stare; - Horses, and kine, and sheep were seen - As still as pictures, in fields green. - - It seemed as though I had surprised - And trespassed in a golden world - That should have passed while men still slept! - The joyful birds, the ship of gold, - The horses, kine and sheep did seem - As they would vanish for a dream. - - WILLIAM H. DAVIES - - - 8 GOOD-MORROW - - Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day! - With night we banish sorrow. - Sweet air, blow soft, mount, lark, aloft - To give my Love good morrow. - Wings from the wind to please her mind, - Notes from the lark I'll borrow: - Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing, - To give my Love good morrow! - To give my Love good morrow - Notes from them all I'll borrow. - - Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast! - Sing, birds, in every furrow, - And from each bill let music shrill - Give my fair Love good morrow! - Blackbird and thrush in every bush, - Stare,[2] linnet, and cock-sparrow, - You pretty elves, amongst yourselves - Sing my fair Love good morrow! - To give my Love good morrow - Sing, birds, in every furrow! - - THOMAS HEYWOOD - - - 9 THE QUESTION - - I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, - Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, - And gentle odours led my steps astray, - Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring - Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay - Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling - Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, - But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream. - - There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, - Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, - The constellated flower that never sets; - Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth - The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets-- - Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth-- - Its mother's face with heaven's collected tears, - When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears. - - And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, - Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured May - And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine - Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day; - And wild roses, and ivy serpentine - With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; - And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, - Fairer than any wakened eyes behold. - - And nearer to the river's trembling edge - There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white, - And starry river-buds among the sedge, - And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, - Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge - With moonlight beams of their own watery light; - And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green - As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. - - Methought that of these visionary flowers - I made a nosegay, bound in such a way - That the same hues, which in their natural bowers - Were mingled or opposed, the like array - Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours - Within my hand,--and then, elate and gay, - I hastened to the spot whence I had come, - That I might there present it--oh! to Whom? - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 10 THE FRESH AIR - - The fresh air moves like water round a boat. - The white clouds wander. Let us wander too. - The whining, wavering plover flap and float. - That crow is flying after that cuckoo. - Look! Look!... They're gone. What are the great trees calling? - Just come a little farther, by that edge - Of green, to where the stormy ploughland, falling - Wave upon wave, is lapping to the hedge. - Oh, what a lovely bank! Give me your hand. - Lie down and press your heart against the ground. - Let us both listen till we understand, - Each through the other, every natural sound... - I can't hear anything to-day, can you, - But, far and near: "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"? - - HAROLD MONRO - - - 11 WEATHERS - - This is the weather the cuckoo likes, - And so do I; - When showers betumble the chestnut spikes, - And nestlings fly: - And the little brown nightingale bills his best, - And they sit outside at "The Travellers' Rest," - And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest, - And citizens dream of the south and west, - And so do I. - - This is the weather the shepherd shuns, - And so do I; - When beeches drip in browns and duns, - And thresh, and ply; - And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe, - And meadow rivulets overflow, - And drops on gate-bars hang in a row, - And rooks in families homeward go, - And so do I. - - THOMAS HARDY - - - 12 GREEN RAIN - - Into the scented woods we'll go, - And see the blackthorn swim in snow. - High above, in the budding leaves, - A brooding dove awakes and grieves; - The glades with mingled music stir, - And wildly laughs the woodpecker. - When blackthorn petals pearl the breeze, - There are the twisted hawthorn trees - Thick-set with buds, as clear and pale - As golden water or green hail-- - As if a storm of rain had stood - Enchanted in the thorny wood, - And, hearing fairy voices call, - Hung poised, forgetting how to fall. - - MARY WEBB - - - 13 SONG ON MAY MORNING - - Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger, - Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her - The Flowry _May_, who from her green lap throws - The yellow Cowslip and the pale Primrose. - Hail, bounteous _May_, that dost inspire - Mirth and youth and young desire, - Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing, - Hill and Dale doth boast thy blessing. - Thus we salute thee with our early Song, - And welcome thee, and wish thee long. - - JOHN MILTON - - - 14 SISTER, AWAKE! - - Sister, awake! close not your eyes. - The day her light discloses, - And the bright morning doth arise - Out of her bed of roses. - - See the clear sun, the world's bright eye, - In at our window peeping: - Lo, how he blusheth to espy - Us idle wenches sleeping! - - Therefore awake! make haste, I say, - And let us, without staying, - All in our gowns of green so gay - Into the park a-maying. - - - 15 HERE WE COME A-PIPING - - Here we come a-piping, - In Springtime and in May; - Green fruit a-ripening, - And Winter fled away. - - The Queen she sits upon the strand, - Fair as lily, white as wand; - Seven billows on the sea, - Horses riding fast and free, - And bells beyond the sand. - - - 16 AS WE DANCE ROUND - - As we dance round a-ring-a-ring, - A maiden goes a-maying; - And here a flower, and there a flower, - Through mead and meadow straying: - O gentle one, why dost thou weep?-- - Silver to spend with; gold to keep; - Till spin the green round World asleep, - And Heaven its dews be staying. - - - 17 OLD MAY SONG - - All in this pleasant evening, together come are we, - _For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay_; - We tell you of a blossoming and buds on every tree, - _Drawing near unto the merry month of May_. - - Rise up, the master of this house, put on your charm of gold, - _For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay_; - Be not in pride offended with your name we make so bold, - _Drawing near unto the merry month of May_. - - Rise up, the mistress of this house, with gold along your breast; - _For the summer springs so fresh, green and gay_; - And if your body be asleep, we hope your soul's at rest, - _Drawing near unto the merry month of May_. - - Rise up, the children of this house, all in your rich attire, - _For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay_; - And every hair upon your heads shines like the silver wire: - _Drawing near unto the merry month of May_. - - God bless this house and arbour, your riches and your store, - _For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay_; - We hope the Lord will prosper you, both now and evermore, - _Drawing near unto the merry month of May_. - - And now comes we must leave you, in peace and plenty here, - _For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay_; - We shall not sing you May again until another year, - _To draw you these cold winters away_. - - - 18 SONG OF THE MAYERS - - Remember us poor Mayers all, - And thus do we begin, - To lead our lives in righteousness, - Or else we die in sin. - - We have been rambling all the night, - And almost all the day, - And now returning back again, - We have brought you a bunch of May. - - A bunch of May we have brought you, - And at your door it stands, - It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out - By the work of our Lord's hands. - - The hedges and trees they are so green, - As green as any leek, - Our Heavenly Father, He watered them - With his heavenly dew so sweet. - - The heavenly gates are open wide, - Our paths are beaten plain, - And if a man be not too far gone, - He may return again. - - The life of man is but a span, - It flourishes like a flower; - We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow, - And are dead in an hour. - - The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light, - A little before it is day, - God bless you all, both great and small, - And send you a joyful May. - - - 19 AND AS FOR ME - - ... And as for me, thogh that I can but lyte,[3] - On bokÄ—s for to rede I me delyte, - And to hem yeve[4] I feyth and ful credènce, - And in myn herte have hem in reverence - So hertÄ—ley, that there is gamÄ— noon - That fro my bokÄ—s maketh me to goon, - But hit be seldom on the holyday, - Save, certeynly, whan that the month of May - Is comen, and that I here the foulÄ—s[5] singe - And that the flourÄ—s ginnen for to springe,-- - Farewel my boke, and my devocioun! - Now have I than swich[6] a condicioun, - That, of alle the flourÄ—s in the mede, - Than love I most these flourÄ—s whyte and rede, - Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. - To hem have I so greet affeccioun, - As I seyde erst, whan comen is the May, - That in my bed ther daweth me no day, - That I nam up, and walking in the mede, - To seen this flour agein the sonnÄ— sprede, - When hit uprysith erly by the morwe; - That blisful sightÄ— softneth all my sorwÄ—[7].... - And whan that hit is eve, I rennÄ— blyve,[8] - As soon as evere the sonnÄ— ginneth weste, - To seen this flour, how it wol go to reste, - For fere of nyght, so hateth she derknesse!... - - GEOFFREY CHAUCER - - - 20 THE SPRING - - What bird so sings, yet so does wail? - O, 'tis the ravished nightingale! - "_Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu_," she cries, - And still her woes at midnight rise. - Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear? - None but the lark so shrill and clear; - Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings, - The morn not waking till she sings. - Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat - Poor robin-redbreast tunes his note; - Hark, how the jolly cuckoos sing - _Cuckoo_--to welcome in the spring! - _Cuckoo_--to welcome in the spring! - - JOHN LYLY - - - 21 SPRING, THE SWEET SPRING - - Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; - Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, - Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing: - _Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo!_ - - The Palm and May make country houses gay, - Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, - And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay: - _Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo!_ - - The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, - Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, - In every street these tunes our ears do greet: - _Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo!_ - _Spring, the sweet Spring!_ - - THOMAS NASH - - - 22 A MAY DAY - - ... And now all nature seemed in love; - The lusty sap began to move; - New juice did stir the embracing vines, - And birds had drawn their valentines. - The jealous trout that now did lie, - Rose at a well-dissembled fly: - There stood my friend with patient skill, - Attending of his trembling quill.[9] - Already were the eaves possessed - With the swift pilgrim's daubèd nest: - The groves already did rejoice - In Philomel's triumphing voice. - The showers were short, the weather mild, - The morning fresh, the evening smiled. - Joan takes her neat-rubbed pail and now - She trips to milk the sand-red cow; - Where, for some sturdy football swain, - Joan strokes[10] a sillabub or twain. - The field and gardens were beset - With tulip, crocus, violet; - And now, though late, the modest rose - Did more than half a blush disclose. - Thus all looked gay, all full of cheer, - To welcome the new-liveried year. - - SIR HENRY WOTTON - - - 23 EASTER - - I got me flowers to straw thy way, - I got me boughs off many a tree: - But thou wast up by break of day, - And brought'st thy sweets along with thee. - - The Sun arising in the East, - Though he give light, and the East perfume,[11] - If they should offer to contest - With thy arising, they presume. - - Can there be any day but this, - Though many sunnes to shine endeavour? - We count three hundred, but we misse: - There is but one, and that one ever. - - GEORGE HERBERT - - - 24 PLEASURE IT IS - - Pleasure it is - To hear, iwis,[12] - The birdÄ—s sing. - The deer in the dale, - The sheep in the vale, - The corn springing; - God's purveyance - For sustenance - It is for man. - Then we always - To Him give praise, - And thank Him than, - And thank Him than. - - WILLIAM CORNISH - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - MOTHER, HOME AND SWEETHEART - - - 25 I SING OF A MAIDEN - - _I sing of a maiden_ - _That is makeless,_[13] - _King of all Kings_ - _To her son she ches._[14] - - He came all so still - Where his mother was, - As dew in April - That falleth on the grass. - - He came all so still - To his mother's bower, - As dew in April - That falleth on the flower. - - He came all so still - Where his mother lay, - As dew in April - That falleth on the spray. - - Mother and maiden - Was never none but she; - Well may such a lady - God's mother be. - - - ~26~ LULLABY - - Upon my lap my sovereign sits - And sucks upon my breast; - Meantime his love maintains my life - And gives my sense her rest. - _Sing lullaby, my little boy,_ - _Sing lullaby, mine only joy!_ - - When thou hast taken thy repast, - Repose, my babe, on me; - So may thy mother and thy nurse - Thy cradle also be. - _Sing lullaby, my little boy,_ - _Sing lullaby, mine only joy!_ - - I grieve that duty doth not work - All that my wishing would, - Because I would not be to thee - But in the best I should. - _Sing lullaby, my little boy,_ - _Sing lullaby, mine only joy!_ - - Yet as I am, and as I may, - I must and will be thine, - Though all too little for thy self - Vouchsafing to be mine. - _Sing lullaby, my little boy,_ - _Sing lullaby, mine only joy!_ - - RICHARD ROWLANDS - - - 27 THE LITTLE BLACK BOY - - My mother bore me in the southern wild, - And I am black, but O! my soul is white; - White as an angel is the English child, - But I am black, as if bereaved of light. - - My mother taught me underneath a tree, - And, sitting down before the heat of day, - She took me on her lap and kissèd me, - And, pointing to the east, began to say: - - "Look on the rising sun; there God does live, - And gives his light, and gives his heat away; - And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive - Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday. - - "And we are put on earth a little space, - That we may learn to bear the beams of love; - And these black bodies and this sunburnt face - Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove. - - "For when our souls have learned the heat to bear, - The cloud will vanish; we shall hear his voice, - Saying: 'Come out from the grove, my love and care, - And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.'" - - Thus did my mother say, and kissèd me; - And thus I say to little English boy. - When I from black and he from white cloud free, - And round the tent of God like lambs we joy, - - I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear - To lean in joy upon our Father's knee; - And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair, - And be like him, and he will then love me. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 28 THE ECHOING GREEN - - The Sun does arise, - And make happy the skies; - The merry bells ring - To welcome the Spring; - The skylark and thrush, - The birds of the bush, - Sing louder around - To the bells' cheerful sound, - While our sports shall be seen - On the Echoing Green. - - Old John, with white hair, - Does laugh away care, - Sitting under the oak, - Among the old folk, - They laugh at our play, - And soon they all say: - "Such, such were the joys - When we all, girls and boys, - In our youth time were seen - On the Echoing Green." - - Till the little ones, weary, - No more can be merry; - The sun does descend, - And our sports have an end. - Round the laps of their mothers - Many sisters and brothers, - Like birds in their nest, - Are ready for rest, - And sport no more seen - On the darkening Green. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 29 IF I HAD BUT TWO LITTLE WINGS - - If I had but two little wings - And were a little feathery bird, - To you I'd fly, my dear! - But thoughts like these are idle things, - And I stay here. - - But in my sleep to you I fly: - I'm always with you in my sleep! - The world is all one's own. - But then one wakes, and where am I? - All, all alone. - - Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids: - So I love to wake ere break of day: - For though my sleep be gone, - Yet while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids, - And still dreams on. - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - - 30 I REMEMBER - - I remember, I remember, - The house where I was born, - The little window where the sun - Came peeping in at morn; - He never came a wink too soon, - Nor brought too long a day; - But now, I often wish the night - Had borne my breath away. - - I remember, I remember, - The roses, red and white, - The violets, and the lily-cups!-- - Those flowers made of light! - The lilacs where the robin built, - And where my brother set - The laburnum on his birth-day,-- - The tree is living yet! - - I remember, I remember, - Where I was used to swing, - And thought the air must rush as fresh - To swallows on the wing; - My spirit flew in feathers then, - That is so heavy now, - And summer pools could hardly cool - The fever on my brow! - - I remember, I remember, - The fir trees dark and high; - I used to think their slender tops - Were close against the sky: - It was a childish ignorance, - But now 'tis little joy - To know I'm farther off from Heaven - Than when I was a boy. - - THOMAS HOOD - - - 31 MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN - - In the third-class seat sat the journeying boy, - And the roof-lamp's oily flame - Played down on his listless form and face, - Bewrapt past knowing to what he was going, - Or whence he came. - - In the band of his hat the journeying boy - Had a ticket stuck; and a string - Around his neck bore the key of his box, - That twinkled gleams of the lamp's sad beams - Like a living thing. - - What past can be yours, O journeying boy - Towards a world unknown, - Who calmly, as if incurious quite - On all at stake, can undertake - This plunge alone? - - Knows your soul a sphere, O journeying boy, - Our rude realms far above, - Whence with spacious vision you mark and mete - This region of sin that you find you in, - But are not of? - - THOMAS HARDY - - - 32 THE RUNAWAY - - Once when the sun of the year was beginning to fall - We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, "Whose colt? - A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall, - The other curled at his heart. He dipped his head - And snorted to us; and then he had to bolt. - We heard the muffled thunder when he fled - And we saw him or thought we saw him dim and grey - Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes. - We said, "The little fellow's afraid of the snow. - He isn't winter broken." "It isn't play - With the little fellow at all. He's running away. - I doubt if even his mother could tell him, 'Sakes, - It's only weather.' He'd think she didn't know. - Where is his mother? He can't be out alone." - And now he comes again with a clatter of stone - And mounts the wall again with whited eyes - And all his tail that isn't hair up straight. - He shudders his coat as if to throw off flies. - Whoever it is that leaves him out so late - When everything else has gone to stall and bin - Ought to be told to go and bring him in. - - ROBERT FROST - - - 33 ON EASTNOR KNOLL - - Silent are the woods, and the dim green boughs are - Hushed in the twilight: yonder, in the path through - The apple orchard, is a tired plough-boy - Calling the cows home. - - A bright white star blinks, the pale moon rounds, but - Still the red, lurid wreckage of the sunset - Smoulders in smoky fire, and burns on - The misty hill-tops. - - Ghostly it grows, and darker, the burning - Fades into smoke, and now the gusty oaks are - A silent army of phantoms thronging - A land of shadows. - - JOHN MASEFIELD - - - 34 "HOME NO MORE HOME TO ME" - - Home no more home to me, whither must I wander? - Hunger my driver, I go where I must. - Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather; - Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust. - Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree. - The true word of welcome was spoken in the door-- - Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight, - Kind folks of old, you come again no more. - - Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, - Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child, - Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland; - Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. - Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, - Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. - Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, - The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old. - - Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moor-fowl, - Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers; - Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley, - Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours; - Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood-- - Fair shine the day on the house with open door; - Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney-- - But I go for ever and come again no more. - - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON - - - 35 DALYAUNCE - - _Mundus._ Welcome, fayre chylde, what is thy name? - - _Infans._ I wote not, syr, withouten blame. - But ofte tyme my moder in her game - Callèd me dalyaunce. - - _Mundus._ Dalyaunce, my swetÄ— chylde, - It is a name that is ryght wylde, - For whan thou waxest olde. - It is a name of no substaunce - But, my fayre chylde, what woldest thou have? - - _Infans._ Syr of some comforte I you crave-- - Mete and clothe my lyfe to save: - And I your true servaunt shall be. - - _Mundus._ Fayre chylde, I graunte thee thyne askynge. - I wyll thee fynde[15] whyle thou art yinge[16] - So thou wylte be obedyent to my byddynge. - These garments gaye I gyve to thee. - And also I gyve to thee a name, - And clepe[17] thee Wanton, in every game; - Tyll XIII yere be come and gone, - And than come agayne to me. - - [_Infans is now called Wanton._] - - _Wanton._ Gramercy, Worlde, for myne araye, - For now I purpose me to playe. - - _Mundus._ Fare well, fayre chylde, and have good daye. - All rychelesnesse[18] is kynde[19] for thee. - - [_Mundus goes out leaving Wanton alone._] - - _Wanton._ Aha, Wanton is my name! - I can many a quayntÄ— game. - Lo, my toppe I dryve in same, - Se, it torneth rounde! - I can with my scorgÄ—-stycke - My felowe upon the heed hytte, - And wyghtly[20] from hym make a skyppe - And blere[21] on hym my tonge. - If brother or syster do me chyde - I wyll scratche and also byte. - I can crye, and also kyke, - And mocke them all berewe. - If fader or mother wyll me smyte, - I wyll wryngÄ—[22] with my lyppe; - And lyghtly from hym make a skyppe; - And call my damÄ— shrewe. - Aha, a newe game have I founde: - Se this gynne[23] it renneth rounde; - And here another have I founde, - And yet mo[24] can I fynde. - I can mowÄ—[25] on a man; - And make a lesynge[26] well I can, - And mayntayne it ryght well than. - This connynge[27] came me of kynde. - Ye, syrs,[28] I can well gelde a snayle; - And catche a cowe by the tayle; - This is a fayre connynge! - I can daunce, and also skyppe; - I can playe at the chery pytte; - And I can wystell you a fytte,[29] - Syres, in a whylowe ryne.[30] - Ye, syrs, and every daye - Whan I to scole shall take the waye - Some good mannes gardyn I wyll assaye, - Perys[31] and plommes to plucke. - I can spye a sparowes nest. - I wyll not go to scole but whan me lest, - For there begynneth a sory fest[32] - Whan the mayster sholde lyfte my docke.[33] - But, syrs, whan I was seven yere of age, - I was sent to the Worlde to takÄ— wage. - And this seven yere I have ben his page - And kept his commaundÄ—ment.... - - - 36 CHRISTMAS AT SEA - - The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand; - The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand; - The wind was a nor'wester, blowing squally off the sea; - And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee. - - They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day; - But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay. - We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout, - And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about. - - All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North; - All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth; - All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread, - For very life and nature we tacked from head to head. - - We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared; - But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard: - So's we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high, - And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye. - - The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam; - The good red fires were burning bright in every 'longshore home; - The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out; - And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about. - - The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer - For it's just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year) - This day of our adversity was blessèd Christmas morn, - And the house above the coastguard's was the house where I was born. - - O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there, - My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair; - And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves, - Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the shelves. - - And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me, - Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea; - And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way, - To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessèd Christmas Day. - - They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall. - "All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the captain call, - "By the Lord, she'll never stand it," our first mate, Jackson, cried. - ... "It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson," he replied. - - She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good. - And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood. - As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the night, - We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light. - - And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me, - As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea; - But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold, - Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old. - - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON - - - 37 TWILIGHT - - The twilight is sad and cloudy, - The wind blows wild and free, - And like the wings of sea-birds - Flash the white caps of the sea. - - But in the fisherman's cottage - There shines a ruddier light, - And a little face at the window - Peers out into the night. - - Close, close it is pressed to the window, - As if those childish eyes - Were looking into the darkness, - To see some form arise. - - And a woman's waving shadow - Is passing to and fro, - Now rising to the ceiling, - Now bowing and bending low. - - What tale do the roaring ocean, - And the night-wind, bleak and wild, - As they beat at the crazy casement, - Tell to that little child? - - And why do the roaring ocean, - And the night-wind, wild and bleak, - As they beat at the heart of the mother, - Drive the colour from her cheek? - - HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW - - - 38 "HOW'S MY BOY?" - - "Ho, sailor of the sea! - How's my boy--my boy?" - "What's your boy's name, good wife, - And in what good ship sailed he?" - "My boy John-- - He that went to sea-- - What care I for the ship, sailor? - My boy's my boy to me. - - "You come back from sea - And not know my John! - I might as well have asked some landsman - Yonder down in the town. - There's not an ass in all the parish - But he knows my John. - - "How's my boy--my boy? - And unless you let me know, - I'll swear you are no sailor, - Blue jacket or no, - Brass button or no, sailor, - Anchor and crown or no! - Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton."-- - "Speak low, woman, speak low!" - - "And why should I speak low, sailor, - About my own boy John? - If I was loud as I am proud - I'd sing him o'er the town! - Why should I speak low, sailor?" - "That good ship went down." - - "How's my boy--my boy? - What care I for the ship, sailor, - I never was aboard her. - Be she afloat, or be she aground, - Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound, - Her owners can afford her! - I say, how's my John?" - "Every man on board went down, - Every man aboard her." - - "How's my boy--my boy? - What care I for the men, sailor? - I'm not their mother-- - How's my boy--my boy? - Tell me of him and no other! - How's my boy--my boy?" - - SYDNEY DOBELL - - - 39 CAM' YE BY? - - Cam' ye by the salmon fishers? - Cam' ye by the roperee? - Saw ye a sailor laddie - Waiting on the coast for me? - - I ken fahr[34] I'm gyain,[35] - I ken fahs[36] gyain wi' me; - I ha'e a lad o' my ain, - Ye daurna tack 'im fae[37] me. - - Stockings of blue silk, - Shoes of patent leather, - Kid to tie them up, - And gold rings on his finger. - - Oh for six o'clock! - Oh for seven I weary! - Oh for eight o'clock! - And then I'll see my dearie. - - - 40 MY BOY TAMMY - - "Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy? - Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy?" - "I've been by burn and flow'ry brae, - Meadow green and mountain grey, - Courtin' o' this young thing just come frae her Mammy." - - "And whar gat ye that young thing, my boy Tammy?" - "I gat her down in yonder howe,[38] - Smiling on a broomy knowe,[39] - Herding ae wee Lamb and Ewe for her poor Mammy." - - "What said ye to the bonny bairn, my boy Tammy?" - "I hae a house, it cost me dear, - I've walth o' plenishen and gear,[40] - Yese get it a', war't ten times mair, gin[41] ye will leave your Mammy. - - "The smile gaed aff her bonny face--'I mauna leave my Mammy! - She's gi'en me meat, she's gi'en me claes,[42] - She's been my comfort a' my days, - My Father's death brought mony waes--I canna leave my Mammy.'" - - "We'll tak her hame and mak her fain, my ain kind-hearted Lammy, - We'll gie her meat, we'll gi'e her claes, - We'll be her comfort a' her days:" - The wee thing gi'es her hand, and says, "There, gang and ask my Mammy." - - "Has she been to kirk wi' thee, my boy Tammy?" - "She has been to kirk wi' me, - And the tear was in her ee, - But Oh! she's but a young thing just come frae her Mammy." - - HECTOR MACNEILL - - - 41 ROSY APPLE, LEMON, OR PEAR - - Rosy apple, lemon, or pear, - Bunch of roses she shall wear; - Gold and silver by her side, - I know who will be the bride. - Take her by her lily-white hand, - Lead her to the altar; - Give her kisses,--one, two, three,-- - Mother's runaway daughter. - - - 42 IN PRAISE OF ISABEL PENNELL - - By Saint Mary, my lady, - Your mammy and your daddy - Brought forth a goodly baby! - - My maiden Isabell,-- - Reflaring[43] rosabell, - The flagrant camamell, - - The ruddy rosary, - The sovereign rosemary, - The pretty strawberry, - - The columbine, the nepte,[44] - The ieloffer[45] well set, - The proper violet, - - Ennewèd, your colour - Is like the daisy flower - After the April shower! - - Star of the morrow gray, - The blossom on the spray, - The freshest flower of May; - - Maidenly demure, - Of womanhood the lure, - Wherefore I make you sure: - - It were an heavenly health, - It were an endless wealth, - A life for God himself, - - To hear this nightingale, - Among the birdÄ—s smale, - Warbling in the vale:-- - - _Dug, dug,_ - _Iug, iug,_ - _Good year and good luck,_ - _With chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk!_ - - JOHN SKELTON - - - 43 MY SWEET SWEETING - - She is so proper and so pure, - Full stedfast, stabill and demure, - There is none such, ye may be sure, - As my swete sweting. - - In all thys world, as thynketh me, - Is none so plesaunt to my e'e, - That I am glad soo ofte to see, - As my swete swetyng. - - When I behold my swetyng swete, - Her face, her hands, her minion fete, - They seme to me there is none so mete, - As my swete swetyng. - - Above all other prayse must I, - And love my pretty pygsnye, - For none I fynd so womanly - As my swete swetyng. - - - 44 SWEET STAY-AT-HOME - - Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, - Thou knowest of no strange continent: - Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep - A gentle motion with the deep; - Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, - Where scent comes forth in every breeze. - Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow - For miles, as far as eyes can go; - Thou hast not seen a summer's night - When maids could sew by a worm's light; - Nor the North Sea in spring send out - Bright hues that like birds flit about - In solid cages of white ice-- - Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Love-one-place. - Thou hast not seen black fingers pick - White cotton when the bloom is thick, - Nor heard black throats in harmony; - Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie - Flat on the earth, that once did rise - To hide proud kings from common eyes. - Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom - Where green things had such little room - They pleased the eye like fairer flowers-- - Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours. - Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place, - Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face; - For thou hast made more homely stuff - Nurture thy gentle self enough; - I love thee for a heart that's kind-- - Not for the knowledge in thy mind. - - WILLIAM H. DAVIES - - - 45 WAITING - - Rich in the waning light she sat - While the fierce rain on the window spat. - The yellow lamp-glow lit her face, - Shadows cloaked the narrow place - She sat adream in. Then she'd look - Idly upon an idle book; - Anon would rise and musing peer - Out at the misty street and drear; - Or with her loosened dark hair play, - Hiding her fingers' snow away; - And, singing softly, would sing on - When the desire of song had gone. - "O lingering day!" her bosom sighed, - "O laggard Time!" each motion cried. - Last she took the lamp and stood - Rich in its flood, - And looked and looked again at what - Her longing fingers' zeal had wrought; - And turning then did nothing say, - Hiding her thoughts away. - - JOHN FREEMAN - - - 46 THE SICK CHILD - - _Child._ O Mother, lay your hand on my brow! - O mother, mother, where am I now? - Why is the room so gaunt and great? - Why am I lying awake so late? - - _Mother._ Fear not at all: the night is still. - Nothing is here that means you ill-- - Nothing but lamps the whole town through, - And never a child awake but you. - - _Child._ Mother, mother, speak low in my ear, - Some of the things are so great and near, - Some are so small and far away, - I have a fear that I cannot say. - What have I done, and what do I fear, - And why are you crying, mother dear? - - _Mother._ Out in the city, sounds begin. - Thank the kind God, the carts come in! - An hour or two more, and God is so kind, - The day shall be blue in the window blind, - Then shall my child go sweetly asleep, - And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep. - - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON - - - 47 STILLNESS - - When the words rustle no more, - And the last work's done, - When the bolt lies deep in the door, - And Fire, our Sun, - Falls on the dark-laned meadows of the floor; - - When from the clock's last chime to the next chime - Silence beats his drum, - And Space with gaunt grey eyes and her brother Time - Wheeling and whispering come, - She with the mould of form and he with the loom of rhyme: - - Then twittering out in the night my thought-birds flee, - I am emptied of all my dreams: - I only hear Earth turning, only see - Ether's long bankless streams, - And only know I should drown if you laid not your hand on me. - - JAMES ELROY FLECKER - - - 48 LINES ON RECEIVING HIS MOTHER'S PICTURE - - O that those lips had language! Life has passed - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. - Those lips are thine--thy own sweet smiles I see, - The same that oft in childhood solaced me; - Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, - "Grieve not, my child--chase all thy fears away!"... - My Mother! when I learnt that thou wast dead, - Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? - Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, - Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? - Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss, - Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss-- - Ah, that maternal smile! it answers--Yes. - I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, - I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, - And, turning from my nursery window, drew - A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! - But was it such?--It was. Where thou art gone - Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. - May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, - The parting word shall pass my lips no more! - Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, - Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. - What ardently I wished, I long believed, - And, disappointed still, was still deceived, - By expectation every day beguiled, - Dupe of _to-morrow_ even from a child. - Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, - Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, - I learnt at last submission to my lot. - But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. - Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, - Children not thine have trod my nursery floor; - And where the gardener Robin, day by day, - Drew me to school along the public way, - Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped - In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet-capped, - 'Tis now become a history little known, - That once we called the pastoral house our own. - Short-lived possession! but the record fair - That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there, - Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced - A thousand other themes less deeply traced. - Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, - That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid; - Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, - The biscuit, or confectionery plum; - The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed - By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed; - All this, and more endearing still than all, - Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall.... - - WILLIAM COWPER - - - 49 THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER - - When my mother died I was very young, - And my father sold me while yet my tongue - Could scarcely cry "'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!" - So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep. - - There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, - That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved: so I said - "Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare - You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair." - - And so he was quiet, and that very night, - As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight! - That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack, - Were all of them locked up in coffins of black. - - And by came an Angel who had a bright key, - And he opened the coffins and set them all free; - Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run, - And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun. - - Then naked and white, all their bags left behind, - They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind; - And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy, - He'd have God for his father, and never want joy. - - And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark, - And got with our bags and our brushes to work. - Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm; - So if all do their duty they need not fear harm. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 50 BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL - - Hie upon Hielands, - and laigh upon Tay, - Bonnie George Campbell - rode out on a day. - - Saddled and briddled - and booted rade he; - Toom[46] hame cam' the saddle, - but never cam' he. - - Down cam' his auld mither, - greetin'[47] fu' sair, - And down cam' his bonny wife, - wringin' her hair:-- - - "My meadow lies green, - and my corn is unshorn, - My barn is to build - and my babe is unborn." - - Saddled and briddled - and booted rade he; - Toom hame cam' the saddle - but never cam' he. - - - 51 THE ORPHAN'S SONG - - I had a little bird, - I took it from the nest; - I prest it, and blest it, - And nurst it in my breast. - - I set it on the ground, - I danced round and round, - And sang about it so cheerly, - With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird, - And ho but I love thee dearly!" - - I make a little feast - Of food soft and sweet, - I hold it in my breast, - And coax it to eat; - - I pit, and I pat, - I call it this and that, - And sing about it so cheerly, - With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird, - And ho but I love thee dearly!" - - I may kiss, I may sing, - But I can't make it feed, - It taketh no heed - Of any pleasant thing. - - I scolded and I socked, - But it minded not a whit, - Its little mouth was locked, - And I could not open it. - - Tho' with pit, and with pat, - And with this, and with that, - I sang about it so cheerly, - With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird, - And ho but I love thee dearly!" - - But when the day was done, - And the room was at rest, - And I sat all alone - With my birdie in my breast, - - And the light had fled, - And not a sound was heard, - Then my little bird - Lifted up its head, - - And the little mouth - Loosed its sullen pride, - And it opened, it opened, - With a yearning strong and wide. - - Swifter than I speak - I brought it food once more, - But the poor little beak - Was locked as before. - - I sat down again, - And not a creature stirred; - I laid the little bird - Again where it had laid; - - And again when nothing stirred, - And not a word I said, - Then my little bird - Lifted up its head, - - And the little beak - Loosed its stubborn pride, - And it opened, it opened, - With a yearning strong and wide. - - It lay in my breast, - It uttered no cry, - 'Twas famished,'twas famished, - And I couldn't tell why. - - I couldn't tell why, - But I saw that it would die, - For all that I kept dancing round and round, - And singing about it so cheerly, - With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird, - And ho but I love thee dearly!" - - I never look sad, - I hear what people say, - I laugh when they are gay - And they think I am glad. - - My tears never start, - I never say a word, - But I think that my heart - Is like that little bird. - - Every day I read, - And I sing, and I play, - But thro' the long day - It taketh no heed. - - It taketh no heed - Of any pleasant thing, - I know it doth not read, - I know it doth not sing. - - With my mouth I read, - With my hands I play, - My shut heart is shut, - Coax it how you may. - - You may coax it how you may - While the day is broad and bright, - But in the dead night - When the guests are gone away, - - And no more the music sweet - Up the house doth pass, - Nor the dancing feet - Shake the nursery glass; - - And I've heard my aunt - Along the corridor, - And my uncle gaunt - Lock his chamber door; - - And upon the stair - All is hushed and still, - And the last wheel - Is silent in the square; - - And the nurses snore, - And the dim sheets rise and fall, - And the lamplight's on the wall, - And the mouse is on the floor; - - And the curtains of my bed - Are like a heavy cloud, - And the clock ticks loud, - And sounds are in my head; - - And little Lizzie sleeps - Softly at my side, - It opens, it opens, - With a yearning strong and wide! - - It yearns in my breast, - It utters no cry, - 'Tis famished, 'tis famished, - And I feel that I shall die, - I feel that I shall die, - And none will know why. - - Tho' the pleasant life is dancing round and round, - And singing about me so cheerly, - With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird, - And ho but I love thee dearly!" - - SYDNEY DOBELL - - - 52 THE FIRST GRIEF - - "Oh! call my brother back to me, - I cannot play alone; - The summer comes with flower and bee-- - Where is my brother gone? - - "The butterfly is glancing bright - Across the sunbeam's track; - I care not now to chase its flight-- - Oh! call my brother back. - - "The flowers run wild--the flowers we sowed - Around our garden tree; - Our vine is drooping with its load-- - Oh! call him back to me." - - "He would not hear my voice, fair child! - He may not come to thee; - The face that once like spring-time smiled - On earth no more thou'lt see. - - "A rose's brief, bright life of joy, - Such unto him was given; - Go--thou must play alone, my boy-- - Thy brother is in heaven!" - - "And has he left the birds and flowers, - And must I call in vain; - And through the long, long summer hours, - Will he not come again? - - "And by the brook, and in the glade, - Are all our wanderings o'er? - Oh! while my brother with me played, - Would I had loved him more!" - - FELICIA HEMANS - - - 53 THE POPLAR FIELD - - The poplars are felled; farewell to the shade - And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade; - The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, - Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives. - - Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view - Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew; - And now in the grass behold they are laid, - And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade. - - The blackbird has fled to another retreat - Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, - And the scene where his melody charmed me before - Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. - - My fugitive years are all hasting away, - And I must ere long lie as lowly as they - With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head, - Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead. - - 'Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can, - To muse on the perishing pleasures of man; - Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see, - Have a being less durable even than he. - - WILLIAM COWPER - - - 54 FAREWELL - - Not soon shall I forget--a sheet - Of golden water, cold and sweet, - The young moon with her head in veils - Of silver, and the nightingales. - - A wain of hay came up the lane-- - O fields I shall not walk again, - And trees I shall not see, so still - Against a sky of daffodil! - - Fields where my happy heart had rest, - And where my heart was heaviest, - I shall remember them at peace - Drenched in moon-silver like a fleece. - - The golden water sweet and cold, - The moon of silver and of gold, - The dew upon the gray grass-spears, - I shall remember them with tears. - - KATHARINE TYNAN - - - 55 "YE BANKS AND BRAES O' BONNIE DOON" - - Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, - How can ye bloom sae fair? - How can ye chant, ye little birds, - And I sae fu' o' care? - - Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird - That sings upon the bough; - Thou minds me o' the happy days - When my fause Luve was true. - - Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird - That sings beside thy mate; - For sae I sat, and sae I sang, - And wist na o' my fate. - - Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon - To see the woodbine twine, - And ilka[48] bird sang o' its love; - And sae did I o' mine. - - Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, - Frae aff its thorny tree; - And my fause luver staw[49] the rose, - But left the thorn wi' me. - - ROBERT BURNS - - - 56 TO A RIVER IN THE SOUTH - - Call me no more, O gentle stream, - To wander through thy sunny dream, - No more to lean at twilight cool - Above thy weir and glimmering pool. - - Surely I know thy hoary dawns, - The silver crisp on all thy lawns, - The softly swirling undersong - That rocks thy reeds the winter long. - - Surely I know the joys that ring - Through the green deeps of leafy spring; - I know the elfin cups and domes - That are their small and secret homes. - - Yet is the light for ever lost - That daily once thy meadows crossed, - The voice no more by thee is heard - That matched the song of stream and bird. - - Call me no more!--thy waters roll - Here, in the world that is my soul, - And here, though Earth be drowned in night, - Old love shall dwell with old delight. - - HENRY NEWBOLT - - - 57 THE DESERTED HOUSE - - There's no smoke in the chimney, - And the rain beats on the floor; - There's no glass in the window, - There's no wood in the door; - The heather grows behind the house, - And the sand lies before. - - No hand hath trained the ivy, - The walls are gray and bare; - The boats upon the sea sail by, - Nor ever tarry there. - No beast of the field comes nigh, - Nor any bird of the air. - - MARY COLERIDGE - - - 58 AN OLD WOMAN OF THE ROADS - - O, to have a little house! - To own the hearth and stool and all! - The heaped-up sods upon the fire, - The pile of turf against the wall! - - To have a clock with weights and chains - And pendulum swinging up and down! - A dresser filled with shining delph, - Speckled and white and blue and brown! - - I could be busy all the day - Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor, - And fixing on their shelf again - My white and blue and speckled store! - - I could be quiet there at night - Beside the fire and by myself, - Sure of a bed, and loth to leave - The ticking clock and the shining delph! - - Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark, - And roads where there's never a house or bush, - And tired I am of bog and road - And the crying wind and the lonesome hush! - - And I am praying to God on high, - And I am praying Him night and day, - For a little house--a house of my own-- - Out of the wind's and the rain's way. - - PADRAIC COLUM - - -~59~ A DESERTED HOME - - Here where the fields lie lonely and untended, - Once stood the old house grey among the trees, - Once to the hills rolled the waves of the cornland-- - Long waves and golden, softer than the sea's. - - Long, long ago has the ploughshare rusted, - Long has the barn stood roofless and forlorn; - But oh! far away are some who still remember - The songs of the young girls binding up the corn. - - Here where the windows shone across the darkness, - Here where the stars once watched above the fold, - Still watch the stars, but the sheepfold is empty; - Falls now the rain where the hearth glowed of old. - - Here where the leagues of melancholy lough-sedge - Moan in the wind round the grey forsaken shore, - Once waved the corn in the mid-month of autumn, - Once sped the dance when the corn was on the floor. - - SIDNEY ROYSE LYSAGHT - - - 60 UNDER THE WOODS - - When these old woods were young - The thrushes' ancestors - As sweetly sung - In the old years. - - There was no garden here, - Apples nor mistletoe; - No children dear - Ran to and fro. - - New then was this thatched cot, - But the keeper was old, - And he had not - Much lead or gold. - - Most silent beech and yew: - As he went round about - The woods to view - Seldom he shot. - - But now that he is gone - Out of most memories, - Still lingers on, - A stoat of his, - - But one, shrivelled and green, - And with no scent at all, - And barely seen - On this shed wall. - - EDWARD THOMAS - - - 61 "BLOWS THE WIND TO-DAY" - - Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying, - Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now, - Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying, - My heart remembers how! - - Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places, - Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor, - Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races, - And winds, austere and pure: - - Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, - Hills of home! and to hear again the call; - Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying, - And hear no more at all. - - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON - - - 62 THE TWA BROTHERS - - There were twa brethren in the north, - They went[50] to the school thegither; - The one unto the other said, - "Will you try a warsle[51] afore?" - - They warsled up, they warsled down, - Till Sir John fell to the ground, - And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch, - Gied him a deadlie wound. - - "O brither dear, take me on your back, - Carry me to yon burn clear, - And wash the blood from off my wound, - And it will bleed nae mair." - - He took him up upon his back, - Carried him to yon burn clear, - And washd the blood from off his wound, - And aye it bled the mair. - - "O brither dear, take me on your back, - Carry me to yon kirk-yard, - And dig a grave baith wide and deep, - And lay my body there." - - He's taen him up upon his back, - Carried him to yon kirk-yard, - And dug a grave baith deep and wide, - And laid his body there. - - "But what will I say to my father dear, - Gin[52] he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" - "Oh say that he's to England gone, - To buy him a cask of wine." - - "And what will I say to my mother dear, - Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" - "Oh say that he's to England gone, - To buy her a new silk gown." - - "And what will I say to my sister dear, - Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" - "Oh say that he's to England gone, - To buy her a wedding ring." - - "But what will I say to her you lo'e dear, - Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?" - "Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair, - And home shall never come." - - - 63 THE DEAD KNIGHT - - The cleanly rush of the mountain air, - And the mumbling, grumbling humble-bees, - Are the only things that wander there, - The pitiful bones are laid at ease, - The grass has grown in his tangled hair, - And a rambling bramble binds his knees. - - To shrieve his soul from the pangs of hell, - The only requiem-bells that rang - Were the hare-bell and the heather-bell. - Hushed he is with the holy spell - In the gentle hymn the wind sang, - And he lies quiet, and sleeps well. - - He is bleached and blanched with the summer sun; - The misty rain and the cold dew - Have altered him from the kingly one - (That his lady loved, and his men knew) - And dwindled him to a skeleton. - - The vetches have twined about his bones, - The straggling ivy twists and creeps - In his eye-sockets; the nettle keeps - Vigil about him while he sleeps. - - Over his body the wind moans - With a dreary tune throughout the day, - In a chorus wistful, eerie, thin - As the gull's cry--as the cry in the bay, - The mournful word the seas say - When tides are wandering out or in. - - JOHN MASEFIELD - - - 64 SHEATH AND KNIFE - - One king's daughter said to anither, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - "We'll gae ride like sister and brither," - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair_. - - "We'll ride doun into yonder valley, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - Whare the greene green trees are budding sae gaily. - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair._ - - "Wi hawke and hounde we will hunt sae rarely, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - And we'll come back in the morning early." - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair._ - - They rade on like sister and brither, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - And they hunted and hawket in the valley thegether. - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair._ - - "Now, lady, hauld my horse and my hawk, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - For I maun na[53] ride, and I daur na[54] walk, - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair_." - - "But set me doun be the rute o' this tree, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - For there ha'e I dreamt that my bed sall be." - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair._ - - The ae king's daughter did lift doun the ither, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - She was licht in her armis like ony fether. - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair._ - - Bonnie Lady Ann sat doun be the tree, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - And a wide grave was houkit[55] whare nane suld be. - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair._ - - The hawk had nae lure, and the horse had nae master, - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - And the faithless hounds thro' the woods ran faster. - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair._ - - The one king's daughter has ridden awa', - _Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair_, - But bonnie Lady Ann lay in the deed-thraw.[56] - _And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair._ - - - 65 I HAVE A YOUNG SISTER - - I have a yong suster I have a young sister - fer beyondyn the se; Far beyond the sea; - Many be the drowryis Many are the keepsakes - that che sente me. That she's sent me. - - Che sente me the cherye, She sent me a cherry-- - withoutyn ony ston, It hadn't any stone; - And so che dede (the) dowe, And so she did a wood dove - withoutyn ony bon. Withouten any bone. - - Sche sente me the brere, She sent me a briar - withoutyn ony rynde, Withouten any rind; - Sche bad me love my lemman She bade me love my sweetheart - withoute longgyng. Without longing in my mind. - - How shuld ony cherye How should any cherry - be withoute ston? Be without a stone? - And how shuld ony dowe And how should any wood dove - ben withoute bon? Be without a bone? - - How shuld any brere How should any briar, - ben withoute rynde? Be without rind? - How shuld I love my lemman And how love a sweetheart - without longyng? Without longing in my mind? - - Quan the cherye was a flour, When the cherry was a flower - than hadde it non ston; Then it had no stone; - Quan the dowe was an ey, When the wood-dove was an egg - than hadde it non bon. Then it had no bone. - - Quan the brere was onbred, When the briar was unbred - than hadde it non rynd; Then it had no rind; - Quan the mayden hayt that che lovit, And when a maid hath that she loves, - che is without longing. She longs not in her mind. - - - 66 ANNABEL LEE - - It was many and many a year ago, - In a kingdom by the sea, - That a maiden there lived whom you may know - By the name of Annabel Lee; - And this maiden she lived with no other thought - Than to love and be loved by me. - - I was a child and she was a child, - In this kingdom by the sea; - But we loved with a love that was more than love-- - I and my Annabel Lee; - With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven - Coveted her and me. - - And this was the reason that, long ago, - In this kingdom by the sea, - A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling - My beautiful Annabel Lee; - So that her highborn kinsman came - And bore her away from me, - To shut her up in a sepulchre - In this kingdom by the sea. - - The angels, not half so happy in heaven, - Went envying her and me-- - Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know, - In this kingdom by the sea) - That the wind came out of the cloud by night, - Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. - - But our love it was stronger by far than the love - Of those who were older than we, - Of many far wiser than we; - And neither the angels in heaven above - Nor the demons down under the sea - Can ever dissever my soul from the soul - Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. - - For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams - Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; - And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes - Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; - And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side - Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride, - In the sepulchre there by the sea, - In her tomb by the sounding sea. - - EDGAR ALLAN POE - - - 67 THE SHELL - - And then I pressed the shell - Close to my ear - And listened well, - And straightway like a bell - Came low and clear - The slow, sad murmur of far distant seas, - Whipped by an icy breeze - Upon a shore - Wind-swept and desolate. - It was a sunless strand that never bore - The footprint of a man, - Nor felt the weight - Since time began - Of any human quality or stir - Save what the dreary winds and waves incur. - And in the hush of waters was the sound - Of pebbles rolling round, - For ever rolling with a hollow sound. - And bubbling sea-weeds as the waters go - Swish to and fro - Their long, cold tentacles of slimy grey. - There was no day, - Nor ever came a night - Setting the stars alight - To wonder at the moon: - Was twilight only and the frightened croon, - Smitten to whimpers, of the dreary wind - And waves that journeyed blind-- - And then I loosed my ear--oh, it was sweet - To hear a cart go jolting down the street! - - JAMES STEPHENS - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - FEASTS : FAIRS : - - BEGGARS : GIPSIES : - - - 68 LONDON BRIDGE - - London Bridge is broken down, - _Dance o'er my Lady Lee_, - London Bridge is broken down, - _With a gay lady_. - - How shall we build it up again? - _Dance o'er my Lady Lee_, - How shall we build it up again? - _With a gay lady_. - - Silver and gold will be stole away, - _Dance o'er my Lady Lee_, - Silver and gold will be stole away, - _With a gay lady_. - - Build it up with iron and steel, - _Dance o'er my Lady Lee_, - Build it up with iron and steel, - _With a gay lady_. - - Iron and steel will bend and bow, - _Dance o'er my Lady Lee_, - Iron and steel will bend and bow, - _With a gay lady_. - - Build it up with wood and clay, - _Dance o'er my Lady Lee_, - Build it up with wood and clay, - _With a gay lady_. - - Wood and clay will wash away, - _Dance o'er my Lady Lee_, - Wood and clay will wash away, - _With a gay lady_. - - Build it up with stone so strong, - _Dance o'er my Lady Lee_, - Huzza! 'twill last for ages long, - _With a gay lady_. - - - 69 HOLY THURSDAY - - 'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, - Came children walking two and two, in red and blue and green, - Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow, - Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames' waters flow. - - O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town! - Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own. - The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs, - Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands. - - Now, like a mighty wind they raise to Heaven the voice of song, - Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among. - Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor; - Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 70 THE MAYORS - - This city and this country has brought forth many mayors - To sit in state, and give forth laws out of their old oak chairs, - With face as brown as any nut with drinking of strong ale-- - Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail! - - With scarlet gowns and broad gold lace, would make a yeoman sweat; - With stockings rolled above their knees and shoes as black as jet; - With eating beef and drinking beer, O they were stout and hale-- - Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail! - - Thus sitting at the table wide the Mayor and Aldermen - Were fit to give law to the city; each ate as much as ten: - The hungry poor entered the hall to eat good beef and ale-- - Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail! - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 71 THE FINE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN - - I'll sing you a good old song, - Made by a good old pate, - Of a fine old English gentleman - Who had an old estate, - And who kept up his old mansion - At a bountiful old rate; - With a good old porter to relieve - The old poor at his gate, - Like a fine old English gentleman - All of the olden time. - - His hall so old was hung around - With pikes and guns and bows, - And swords, and good old bucklers, - That had stood some tough old blows; - 'Twas there _his worship_ held his state - In doublet and trunk hose, - And quaffed his cup of good old sack, - To warm his good old nose, - Like a fine old English gentleman - All of the olden time. - - When winter's cold brought frost and snow, - He opened house to all; - And though threescore and ten his years, - He featly led the ball; - Nor was the houseless wanderer - E'er driven from his hall; - For while he feasted all the great, - He ne'er forgot the small; - Like a fine old English gentleman - All of the olden time. - - But time, though old, is strong in flight, - And years rolled swiftly by; - And Autumn's falling leaves proclaimed - This good old man must die! - He laid him down right tranquilly, - Gave up life's latest sigh; - And mournful stillness reigned around, - And tears bedewed each eye, - For this fine old English gentleman - All of the olden time. - - Now surely this is better far - Than all the new parade - Of theatres and fancy balls, - "At home" and masquerade: - And much more economical, - For all his bills were paid. - Then leave your new vagaries quite, - And take up the old trade - Of a fine old English gentleman, - All of the olden time. - - - 72 BRING US IN GOOD ALE - - _Bring us in good ale, and bring us in good ale;_ - _For y sour blessed Ladake bring us in good ale!_ - - Bring us in no browne bred, for that is made of brane,[57] - Nor bring us in no white bred, for therein is no gane, - _But bring us in good ale!_ - - Bring us in no befe, for there is many bones, - But bring us in good ale, for that goth downe at ones, - _And bring us in good ale!_ - - Bring us in no bacon, for that is passing fat, - But bring us in good ale, and gife us enought of that; - _And bring us in good ale!_ - - Bring us in no mutton, for that is often lene, - Nor bring us in no tripes, for they be seldom clene, - _But bring us in good ale!_ - - Bring us in no egges, for there are many schelles, - But bring us in good ale, and gife us nothing elles; - _And bring us in good ale!_ - - Bring us in no butter, for therein are many hores,[58] - Nor bring us in no pigges flesch, for that will make us bores, - _But bring us in good ale!_ - - Bring us in no podinges, for therein is all Godes good,[59] - Nor bring us in no venesen, for that is not for our blod; - _But bring us in good ale!_ - - Bring us in no capons flesch, for that is oftÄ— dere, - Nor bring us in no dokes[60] flesch, for they slober in the mere, - _But bring us in good ale!_ - - - 73 THE VISION OF MAC CONGLINNE - - A vision that appeared to me, - An apparition wonderful - I tell to all: - There was a coracle all of lard - Within a Port of New-Milk Lake - Upon the world's smooth sea. - - We went into that man-of-war, - 'Twas warrior-like to take the road - O'er ocean's heaving waves. - Our oar-strokes then we pulled - Across the level of the main, - Throwing the sea's harvest up - Like honey, the sea-soil. - - The fort we reached was beautiful, - With works of custards thick, - Beyond the lake. - Fresh butter was the bridge in front, - The rubble dyke was fair white wheat, - Bacon the palisade. - - Stately, pleasantly it sat, - A compact house and strong. - Then I went in: - The door of it was hung beef, - The threshold was dry bread, - Cheese-curds the walls.... - - Behind it was a well of wine, - Beer and bragget in streams, - Each full pool to the taste. - Malt in smooth wavy sea - Over a lard-spring's brink - Flowed through the floor.... - - A row of fragrant apple-trees, - An orchard in its pink-tipped bloom, - Between it and the hill. - A forest tall of real leeks, - Of onions and of carrots, stood - Behind the house. - - Within, a household generous, - A welcome of red, firm-fed men, - Around the fire: - Seven bead-strings and necklets seven - Of cheeses and of bits of tripe - Round each man's neck. - - The Chief in cloak of beefy fat - Beside his noble wife and fair - I then beheld. - Below the lofty cauldron's spit - Then the Dispenser I beheld, - His fleshfork on his back. - - - 74 STOOL-BALL - - ... Now milkmaids' pails are deckt with flowers, - And men begin to drink in bowers, - The mackarels come up in shoals, - To fill the mouths of hungry souls; - Sweet sillabubs, and lip-loved tansey, - For William is prepared by Nancy. - Much time is wasted now away, - At pigeon-holes, and nine-pin play, - Whilst hob-nail Dick, and simp'ring Frances, - Trip it away in country dances; - At stool-ball and at barley-break, - Wherewith they harmless pastime make.... - - - 75 MILKING PAILS - - Mary's gone a-milking, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Mary's gone a-milking, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - Take your pails and go after her, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Take your pails and go after her, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_. - - Buy me a pair of new milking pails, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Buy me a pair of new milking pails, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - Where's the money to come from, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Where's the money to come from, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_? - - Sell my father's feather bed, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Sell my father's feather bed, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - What's your father to sleep on, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - What's your father to sleep on, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_? - - Put him in the truckle bed, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Put him in the truckle bed, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - What are the children to sleep on, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - What are the children to sleep on, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_? - - Put them in the pig-sty, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Put them in the pig-sty, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - What are the pigs to lie in, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - What are the pigs to lie in, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_? - - Put them in the washing-tubs, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Put them in the washing-tubs, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - What am I to wash in, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - What am I to wash in, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_? - - Wash in the thimble, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Wash in the thimble, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - Thimble won't hold your father's shirt, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Thimble won't hold your father's shirt, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_. - - Wash in the river, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Wash in the river, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - Suppose the clothes should blow away, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Suppose the clothes should blow away, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_? - - Set a man to watch them, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Set a man to watch them, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - Suppose the man should go to sleep, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Suppose the man should go to sleep, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_? - - Take a boat and go after them, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Take a boat and go after them, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_. - - Suppose the boat should be upset, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Suppose the boat should be upset, - _Gentle sweet daughter o' mine_? - - Then that would be an end of you, - _A rea, a ria, a roses_, - Then that would be an end of you, - _Gentle sweet mother o' mine_! - - - 76 THE PEDLAR'S SONG - - Lawne as white as driven Snow, - Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow, - Cloves as sweete as Damaske Roses, - Maskes for faces, and for noses, - Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber, - Perfume for a Ladies Chamber: - Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers - For my Lads, to give their deers: - Pins, and peaking-stickes of steele: - What Maids lacke from head to heele: - Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy, - Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 77 FINE KNACKS FOR LADIES - - Fine knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new, - Good pennyworths--but money cannot move: - I keep a fair but for the Fair to view-- - A beggar may be liberal of love. - Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true, - _The heart is true_. - - Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again; - My trifles come as treasures from my mind: - It is a priceless jewel to be plain; - Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find:-- - Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain! - _Of me a grain!..._ - - - 78 OH! DEAR! - - Oh! dear! what can the matter be? - Dear! dear! what can the matter be? - Oh! dear! what can the matter be? - Johnny's so long at the fair. - - He promised he'd buy me a fairing should please me, - And then for a kiss, oh! he vowed he would tease me, - He promised he'd bring me a bunch of blue ribbons - To tie up my bonny brown hair. - - And it's oh! dear! what can the matter be? - Dear! dear! what can the matter be? - Oh! dear! what can the matter be? - Johnny's so long at the fair. - - He promised he'd bring me a basket of posies, - A garland of lilies, a garland of roses, - A little straw hat, to set off the blue ribbons - That tie up my bonny brown hair. - - And it's oh! dear! what can the matter be? - Dear! dear! what can the matter be? - Oh! dear! what can the matter be? - Johnny's so long at the fair. - - - 79 SLEDBURN FAIR - - I'd oft heard tell of this Sledburn fair, - And fain I would gan thither, - 'Twere in the prime of summer-time, - In fine and pleasant weather; - My Dad and Mam they did agree - That Nell and I should gae - See for to view this Sledburn fair, - And ride on Dobbin, oh.... - - So Nell gat on and I gat on, - And we both rode off together, - And of everybody we did meet - Enquired how far 'twas thither? - Until we came to t'other field end, - 'Twas about steeple high, - "See yonder, Nell, see yonder, Nell, - There's Sledburn town," cried I. - - And when we reached this famous town - We enquirèd for an alehouse, - We lookèd up and saw a sign - As high as any gallows; - We called for Harry, the ostler, - To give our horse some hay, - For we had come to Sledburn Fair - And meant to stop all day. - - The landlord then himself came out - And led us up an entry; - He took us in the finest room - As if we'd been quite gentry. - And puddings and sauce they did so smell, - Pies and roast beef so rare, - "Oh, Zooks!" says Nell, "we've acted well - In coming to Sledburn Fair." - - - 80 WIDDECOMBE FAIR - - "Tom Pearse, Tom Pearse, lend me your gray mare," - All along, down along, out along, lee. - "For I want for to go to Widdecombe Fair, - Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, - Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk, - Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all." - _Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all._ - - "And when shall I see again my gray mare?" - All along, down along, out along, lee. - "By Friday soon, or Saturday noon, - Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, - Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk, - Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all." - _Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all._ - - Then Friday came and Saturday noon, - All along, down along, out along, lee. - But Tom Pearse's old mare hath not trotted home, - Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, - Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk, - Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. - _Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all._ - - So Tom Pearse he got up to the top o' the hill, - All along, down along, out along, lee. - And he seed his old mare down a-making her will, - Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, - Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk, - Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. - _Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all._ - - So Tom Pearse's old mare her took sick and her died, - All along, down along, out along, lee. - And Tom he sat down on a stone, and he cried - Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, - Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk, - Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. - _Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all._ - - But this isn't the end o' this shocking affair, - All along, down along, out along, lee. - Nor, though they be dead, of the horrid career - Of Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, - Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk, - Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. - _Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all._ - - When the wind whistles cold on the moor of a night, - All along, down along, out along, lee. - Tom Pearse's old mare doth appear, gashly white, - Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, - Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk, - Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. - _Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all._ - - And all the long night be heard skirling and groans, - All along, down along, out along, lee. - From Tom Pearse's old mare in her rattling bones, - And from Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, - Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk, - Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. - _Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all._ - - - 81 GIPSIES - - The snow falls deep; the forest lies alone; - The boy goes hasty for his load of brakes,[61] - Then thinks upon the fire and hurries back; - The gipsy knocks his hands and tucks them up, - And seeks his squalid camp, half hid in snow, - Beneath the oak which breaks away the wind, - And bushes close in snow-like hovel warm; - There tainted mutton wastes upon the coals, - And the half-wasted dog squats close and rubs, - Then feels the heat too strong, and goes aloof; - He watches well, but none a bit can spare, - And vainly waits the morsel thrown away. - Tis thus they live--a picture to the place, - A quiet, pilfering, unprotected race. - - JOHN CLARE - - - 82 THE IDLERS - - The gipsies lit their fires by the chalk-pit gate anew, - And the hoppled horses supped in the further dusk and dew; - The gnats flocked round the smoke like idlers as they were - And through the goss and bushes the owls began to churr. - - An ell above the woods the last of sunset glowed - With a dusky gold that filled the pond beside the road; - The cricketers had done, the leas all silent lay, - And the carrier's clattering wheels went past and died away. - - The gipsies lolled and gossiped, and ate their stolen swedes, - Made merry with mouth-organs, worked toys with piths of reeds: - The old wives puffed their pipes, nigh as black as their hair, - And not one of them all seemed to know the name of care. - - EDMUND BLUNDEN - - - 83 THE WRAGGLE TAGGLE GIPSIES - - There were three gipsies a-come to my door, - And down-stairs ran this a-lady, O! - One sang high, and another sang low, - And the other sang, Bonny, bonny Biscay, O! - - Then she pulled off her silk-finished gown - And put on hose of leather, O! - The ragged, ragged rags about our door-- - She's gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O! - - It was late last night, when my lord came home, - Enquiring for his a-lady, O! - The servants said, on every hand: - "She's gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!" - - "O saddle to me my milk-white steed. - Go and fetch me my pony, O! - That I may ride and seek my bride, - Who is gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!" - - O he rode high and he rode low, - He rode through woods and copses too, - Until he came to an open field, - And there he espied his a-lady, O! - - "What makes you leave your house and land? - What makes you leave your money, O? - What makes you leave your new-wedded lord; - To go with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O?" - - "What care I for my house and my land? - What care I for my money, O? - What care I for my new-wedded lord? - I'm off with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!" - - "Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed, - With the sheet turned down so bravely, O! - And to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field, - Along with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!" - - "What care I for a goose-feather bed, - With the sheet turned down so bravely, O? - For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field, - Along with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!" - - - 84 WHERE DO THE GIPSIES COME FROM? - - Where do the gipsies come from? - The gipsies come from Egypt. - The fiery sun begot them, - Their dam was the desert dry. - She lay there stripped and basking, - And gave them suck for the asking, - And an Emperor's bone to play with, - Whenever she heard them cry. - - What did the gipsies do there? - They built a tomb for Pharaoh, - They built a tomb for Pharaoh, - So tall it touched the sky. - They buried him deep inside it, - Then let what would betide it, - They saddled their lean-ribbed ponies - And left him there to die. - - What do the gipsies do now? - They follow the Sun, their father, - They follow the Sun, their father, - They know not whither nor why. - Whatever they find they take it, - And if it's a law they break it. - So never you talk to a gipsy, - Or look in a gipsy's eye. - - H. H. BASHFORD - - - 85 BEGGARS - - What noise of viols is so sweet - As when our merry clappers ring? - What mirth doth want when beggars meet? - A beggar's life is for a king. - Eat, drink, and play, sleep when we list, - Go where we will--so stocks be missed. - Bright shines the sun; play, beggars, play! - Here's scraps enough to serve to-day. - - The world is ours, and ours alone; - For we alone have world at will. - We purchase not--all is our own; - Both fields and street we beggars fill. - Bright shines the sun; play, beggars, play! - Here's scraps enough to serve to-day. - - FRANK DAVIDSON - - - 86 "WEEP, WEEP, YE WOODMEN!" - - Weep, weep, ye woodmen! wail; - Your hands with sorrow wring! - Your master Robin Hood lies dead, - Therefore sigh as you sing. - - Here lie his primer and his beads, - His bent bow and his arrows keen, - His good sword and his holy cross: - Now cast on flowers fresh and green. - - And, as they fall, shed tears and say - Well, well-a-day! well, well-a-day! - Thus cast ye flowers fresh, and sing, - And on to Wakefield take your way. - - ANTHONY MUNDAY - - - 87 MY HANDSOME GILDEROY - - Gilderoy was a bonnie boy, - Had roses tull[62] his shoone, - His stockings were of silken soy, - Wi' garters hanging doune: - It was, I weene, a comelie sight, - To see sae trim a boy; - He was my joy and heart's delight, - My handsome Gilderoy. - - Oh! sike twe[63] charming een he had, - A breath as sweet as rose; - He never ware a Highland plaid, - But costly silken clothes. - He gained the luve of ladies gay, - Nane eir tull him was coy, - Ah! wae is mee! I mourn the day, - For my dear Gilderoy. - - My Gilderoy and I were born - Baith in one toun together; - We scant[64] were seven years beforn - We gan to luve each other; - Our daddies and our mammies thay - Were fill'd wi' mickle joy, - To think upon the bridal day - 'Twixt me and Gilderoy. - - For Gilderoy, that luve of mine, - Gude faith! I freely bought - A wedding sark of Holland fine - Wi' silken flowers wrought: - And he gied me a wedding ring, - Which I received with joy, - Nae lad nor lassie eir could sing - Like me and Gilderoy. - - Wi' mickle joy we spent our prime, - Till we were baith sixteen, - And aft we past the langsome time - Among the leaves sae green: - Aft on the banks we'd sit us thair, - And sweetly kiss and toy; - Wi' garlands gay wad deck my hair - My handsome Gilderoy. - - Oh! that he still had been content - Wi' me to lead his life; - But, ah! his manfu' heart was bent - To stir in feats of strife. - And he in many a venturous deed - His courage bauld wad try; - And now this gars[65] mine heart to bleed - For my dear Gilderoy. - - And when of me his leave he tuik, - The tears they wet mine ee; - I gave tull him a parting luik, - "My benison gang wi' thee! - God speed thee weil, mine ain dear heart, - For gane is all my joy; - My heart is rent, sith we maun part, - My handsome Gilderoy!" - - My Gilderoy, baith far and near, - Was feared in ev'ry toun, - And bauldly bare away the gear - Of many a lawland loun: - Nane eir durst meet him man to man, - He was sae brave a boy; - At length wi' numbers he was tane, - My winsome Gilderoy. - - Wae worth the loun that made the laws, - To hang a man for gear, - To 'reave of life for ox or ass, - For sheep, or horse, or mare: - Had not their laws been made sae strick, - I neir had lost my joy; - Wi' sorrow neir had wat my cheek - For my dear Gilderoy. - - Giff[66] Gilderoy had done amisse, - He mought hae banisht been, - Ah, what fair cruelty is this, - To hang sike handsome men! - To hang the flower o' Scottish land, - Sae sweet and fair a boy; - Nae lady had so white a hand - As thee, my Gilderoy. - - Of Gilderoy sae fraid they were, - They bound him mickle strong, - Tull Edenburrow they led him thair, - And on a gallows hung: - They hung him high aboon the rest, - He was so trim a boy: - Thair dyed the youth whom I lued best, - My handsome Gilderoy. - - Thus having yielded up his breath, - I bare his corpse away; - Wi' tears, that trickled for his death, - I washt his comely clay; - And siker[67] in a grave sae deep - I laid the dear-lued boy, - And now for evir maun I weep - My winsome Gilderoy. - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - BEASTS OF THE FIELD FOWLS OF THE AIR. - - - 88 BINGO - - The miller's mill-dog lay at the mill-door, - And his name was Little Bingo. - B with an I, I with an N, N with a G, G with an O, - And his name was Little Bingo. - - The miller he bought a cask of ale, - And he called it right good Stingo. - S with a T, T with an I, I with an N, N with a G, G with an O, - And he called it right good Stingo. - - The miller he went to town one day, - And he bought a wedding Ring-o! - R with an I, I with an N, N with a G, G with an O, - And he bought a wedding Ring-o! - - - 89 THE IRISH HARPER AND HIS DOG - - On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, - No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I; - No harp like my own could so cheerily play, - And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray. - - When at last I was forced from my Sheelah to part, - She said--while the sorrow was big at her heart-- - "Oh! remember your Sheelah, when far, far away, - And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray." - - Poor dog! he was faithful and kind, to be sure, - And he constantly loved me, although I was poor; - When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away, - I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray. - - When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold, - And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old, - How snugly we slept in my old coat of grey, - And he licked me for kindness--my poor dog Tray. - - Though my wallet was scant, I remembered his case, - Nor refused my last crust to his pitiful face; - But he died at my feet on a cold winter day, - And I played a lament for my poor dog Tray. - - Where now shall I go, poor, forsaken, and blind? - Can I find one to guide me, so faithful and kind? - To my sweet native village, so far, far away, - I can never return with my poor dog Tray. - - THOMAS CAMPBELL - - - 90 POOR OLD HORSE - - My clothing was once of the linsey woolsey fine, - My tail it grew at length, my coat did likewise shine; - But now I'm growing old; my beauty does decay, - My master frowns upon me; one day I heard him say, - _Poor old horse: poor old horse._ - - Once I was kept in the stable snug and warm, - To keep my tender limbs from any cold or harm; - But now, in open fields, I am forced for to go, - In all sorts of weather, let it be hail, rain, freeze, or snow. - _Poor old horse: poor old horse._ - - Once I was fed on the very best corn and hay - That ever grew in yon fields, or in yon meadows gay; - But now there's no such doing can I find at all, - I'm glad to pick the green sprouts that grow behind yon wall. - _Poor old horse: poor old horse._ - - "You are old, you are cold, you are deaf, dull, dumb and slow, - You are not fit for anything, or in my team to draw. - You have eaten all my hay, you have spoiled all my straw, - So hang him, whip, stick him, to the huntsman let him go." - _Poor old horse: poor old horse._ - - My hide unto the tanners then I would freely give, - My body to the hound dogs, I would rather die than live, - Likewise my poor old bones that have carried you many a mile, - Over hedges, ditches, brooks, bridges, likewise gates and stiles. - _Poor old horse: poor old horse_. - - - 91 AY ME, ALAS, HEIGH HO! - - _Ay me, alas, heigh ho, heigh ho!_ - Thus doth Messalina go - Up and down the house a-crying, - For her monkey lies a-dying. - Death, thou art too cruel - To bereave her of her jewel, - Or to make a seizure - Of her only treasure. - If her monkey die, - She will sit and cry, - _Fie fie fie fie fie!_ - - - 92 THE FLY - - Once musing as I sat, - And candle burning by, - When all were hushed, I might discern - A simple, sely fly; - That flew before mine eyes, - With free rejoicing heart, - And here and there with wings did play, - As void of pain and smart. - Sometime by me she sat - When she had played her fill; - And ever when she rested had - About she fluttered still. - When I perceived her well - Rejoicing in her place, - "O happy fly!" (quoth I), and eke - O worm in happy case! - Which of us two is best? - I that have reason? No: - But thou that reason art without, - And therefore void of woe. - I live, and so dost thou: - But I live all in pain, - And subject am to one, alas! - That makes my grief her gain. - Thou livest, but feel'st no grief; - No love doth thee torment. - A happy thing for me it were - (If God were so content) - That thou with pen were placèd here, - And I sat in thy place: - Then I should joy as thou dost now, - And thou should'st wail thy case. - - BARNABE GOOGE - - - 93 BÊTE HUMAINE - - Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise, - I saw the world awake; and as the ray - Touched the tall grasses where they sleeping lay, - Lo, the bright air alive with dragonflies: - With brittle wings aquiver, and great eyes - Piloting crimson bodies, slender and gay. - I aimed at one, and struck it, and it lay - Broken and lifeless, with fast-fading dyes ... - Then my soul sickened with a sudden pain - And horror, at my own careless cruelty, - That in an idle moment I had slain - A creature whose sweet life it is to fly: - Like beasts that prey with tooth and claw ... - Nay, they - Must slay to live, but what excuse had I? - - FRANCIS BRETT YOUNG - - - 94 THE LAMB - - Little Lamb, who made thee? - Dost thou know who made thee? - Gave thee life, and bid thee feed, - By the stream, and o'er the mead; - Gave thee clothing of delight, - Softest clothing, woolly, bright; - Gave thee such a tender voice, - Making all the vales rejoice? - Little Lamb, who made thee? - Dost thou know who made thee? - - Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, - Little Lamb, I'll tell thee: - He is called by thy name, - For He calls Himself a Lamb. - He is meek, and He is mild; - He became a little child. - I a child, and thou a lamb, - We are callèd by His name. - Little Lamb, God bless thee! - Little Lamb, God bless thee! - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 95 THE SALE OF THE PET LAMB - - Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 'tis full of grief and pain; - It boweth down the heart of man, and dulls his cunning brain; - It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain.... - - A thousand flocks were on the hills, a thousand flocks and more, - Feeding in sunshine pleasantly; they were the rich man's store: - There was the while one little lamb beside a cottage door; - - A little lamb that rested with the children 'neath the tree, - That ate, meek creature, from their hands, and nestled to their knee; - That had a place within their hearts, one of the family. - - But want, even as an armèd man, came down upon their shed, - The father laboured all day long that his children might be fed, - And, one by one, their household things were sold to buy them bread. - - That father, with a downcast eye, upon his threshold stood, - Gaunt poverty each pleasant thought had in his heart subdued. - "What is the creature's life to us?" said he: "'twill buy us food. - - "Ay, though the children weep all day, and with downdrooping head - Each does his small task mournfully, the hungry must be fed; - And that which has a price to bring must go to buy us bread." - - It went. Oh! parting has a pang the hardest heart to wring, - But the tender soul of a little child with fervent love doth cling, - With love that hath no feignings false, unto each gentle thing. - - Therefore most sorrowful it was those children small to see, - Most sorrowful to hear them plead for the lamb so piteously: - "Oh! mother dear, it loveth us; and what beside have we?" - - "Let's take him to the broad green hill!" in his impotent despair - Said one strong boy: "let's take him off, the hills are wide and fair; - I know a little hiding-place, and we will keep him there." - - Oh vain! They took the little lamb, and straightway tied him down, - With a strong cord they tied him fast; and o'er the common brown, - And o'er the hot and flinty roads, they took him to the town. - - The little children through that day, and throughout all the morrow, - From every thing about the house a mournful thought did borrow; - The very bread they had to eat was food unto their sorrow. - - Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 'tis full of grief and pain; - It keepeth down the soul of man, as with an iron chain; - It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain. - - MARY HOWITT - - - 96 A CHILD'S PET - - When I sailed out of Baltimore - With twice a thousand head of sheep, - They would not eat, they would not drink, - But bleated o'er the deep. - - Inside the pens we crawled each day, - To sort the living from the dead; - And when we reached the Mersey's mouth, - Had lost five hundred head. - - Yet every night and day one sheep, - That had no fear of man or sea, - Stuck through the bars its pleading face, - And it was stroked by me. - - And to the sheep-men standing near, - "You see," I said, "this one tame sheep: - It seems a child has lost her pet, - And cried herself to sleep." - - So every time we passed it by, - Sailing to England's slaughter-house, - Eight ragged sheep-men--tramps and thieves-- - Would stroke that sheep's black nose. - - WILLIAM H. DAVIES - - - 97 THE SNARE - - I hear a sudden cry of pain! - There is a rabbit in a snare: - Now I hear the cry again, - But I cannot tell from where. - - But I cannot tell from where - He is calling out for aid; - Crying on the frightened air, - Making everything afraid. - - Making everything afraid, - Wrinkling up his little face, - As he cries again for aid; - And I cannot find the place! - - And I cannot find the place - Where his paw is in the snare: - Little one! Oh, little one! - I am searching everywhere. - - JAMES STEPHENS - - - 98 THE MONK AND HIS PET CAT - - I and my white Pangur - Have each his special art: - His mind is set on hunting mice, - Mine is upon my special craft. - - I love to rest--better than any fame!-- - With close study at my little book; - White Pangur does not envy me: - He loves his childish play. - - When in our house we two are all alone-- - A tale without tedium! - We have--sport never-ending! - Something to exercise our wit. - - At times by feats of derring-do - A mouse sticks in his net, - While into my net there drops - A difficult problem of hard meaning. - - He points his full shining eye - Against the fence of the wall: - I point my clear though feeble eye - Against the keenness of science. - - He rejoices with quick leaps - When in his sharp claw sticks a mouse: - I too rejoice when I have grasped - A problem difficult and dearly loved. - - Though we are thus at all times, - Neither hinders the other, - Each of us pleased with his own art - Amuses himself alone. - - He is a master of the work - Which every day he does: - While I am at my own work - To bring difficulty to clearness. - - - 99 THE TYGER - - Tyger! Tyger! burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye - Could frame thy fearful symmetry? - - In what distant deeps or skies - Burnt the fire of thine eyes? - On what wings dare he aspire? - What the hand dare seize the fire? - - And what shoulder, and what art, - Could twist the sinews of thy heart? - And when thy heart began to beat, - What dread hand? and what dread feet? - - What the hammer? what the chain? - In what furnace was thy brain? - What the anvil? what dread grasp - Dare its deadly terrors clasp? - - When the stars threw down their spears, - And watered heaven with their tears, - Did he smile his work to see? - Did He who made the Lamb make thee? - - Tyger! Tyger! burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye, - Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 100 THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE DEATH OF HER FAWN - - The wanton Troopers riding by - Have shot my Fawn, and it will dye. - Ungentlemen! they cannot thrive - Who killed thee. Thou ne'er didst alive - Them any Harm: alas! nor cou'd - Thy Death yet do them any Good ... - For it was full of sport, and light - Of foot and heart, and did invite - Me to its game; it seemed to bless - Itself in me; how could I less - Than love it? O, I cannot be - Unkind to a beast that loveth me ... - With sweetest Milk, and Sugar, first - I it at mine own Fingers nurst; - And as it grew, so every Day - It waxed more white and sweet than they. - It had so sweet a Breath! And oft - I blushed to see its Foot more soft, - And white (shall I say than my Hand?) - Nay, any Ladie's of the Land. - It is a wond'rous Thing how fleet - 'Twas on those little Silver Feet; - With what a pretty skipping Grace, - It oft would challenge me the Race; - And when 't had left me far away, - 'Twould stay, and run again, and stay; - For it was nimbler much than Hindes, - And trod as if on the Four Winds. - I have a Garden of my own, - But so with Roses over-grown, - And Lillies, that you would it guess - To be a little Wilderness; - And all the Spring Time of the Year - It only lovèd to be there. - Among the Beds of Lillies I - Have sought it oft, where it should lye; - Yet could not, till it self would rise, - Find it, although before mine Eyes: - For, in the flaxen Lillies' Shade, - It like a Bank of Lillies laid. - Upon the Roses it would feed, - Until its Lips ev'n seemed to bleed; - And then to me 'twould boldly trip, - And print those Roses on my Lip. - But all its chief Delight was still - On Roses thus itself to fill, - And its pure Virgin Limbs to fold - In whitest sheets of Lillies cold: - Had it lived long, it would have been - Lillies without, Roses within.... - - ANDREW MARVELL - - - 101 OF ALL THE BIRDS - - Of all the birds that I do know, - Philip my sparrow hath no peer; - For sit she high, or sit she low, - Be she far off, or be she near, - There is no bird so fair, so fine, - Nor yet so fresh as this of mine; - For when she once hath felt a fit, - Philip will cry still: _Yet, yet, yet_. - - Come in a morning merrily - When Philip hath been lately fed; - Or in an evening soberly - When Philip list to go to bed; - It is a heaven to hear my Phipp, - How she can chirp with merry lip, - For when she once hath felt a fit, - Philip will cry still: _Yet, yet, yet_. - - She never wanders far abroad, - But is at home when I do call. - If I command she lays on load[68] - With lips, with teeth, with tongue and all. - She chants, she chirps, she makes such cheer, - That I believe she hath no peer. - For when she once hath felt the fit, - Philip will cry still: _Yet, yet, yet_. - - And yet besides all this good sport - My Philip can both sing and dance, - With new found toys of sundry sort - My Philip can both prick and prance. - And if you say but: Fend cut,[69] Phipp! - Lord, how the peat[70] will turn and skip! - For when she once hath felt the fit, - Philip will cry still: _Yet, yet, yet_. - - And to tell truth he were to blame-- - Having so fine a bird as she, - To make him all this goodly game - Without suspect or jealousy-- - He were a churl and knew no good, - Would see her faint for lack of food, - For when she once hath felt the fit, - Philip will cry still: _Yet, yet, yet._ - - - 102 THE DEAD SPARROW - - Tell me not of joy: there's none, - Now my little Sparrow's gone: - He, just as you, - Would try and woo, - He would chirp and flatter me; - He would hang the wing awhile-- - Till at length he saw me smile - Lord, how sullen he would be! - - He would catch a crumb, and then - Sporting, let it go agen; - He from my lip - Would moisture sip; - He would from my trencher feed; - Then would hop, and then would run, - And cry _Philip_ when he'd done. - O! whose heart can choose but bleed? - - O how eager would he fight, - And ne'er hurt, though he did bite. - No morn did pass, - But on my glass - He would sit, and mark and do - What I did--now ruffle all - His feathers o'er, now let'em fall; - And then straightway sleek them too. - - Whence will Cupid get his darts - Feathered now to pierce our hearts? - A wound he may - Not, Love, convey, - Now this faithful bird is gone; - O let mournful turtles join - With loving red-breasts, and combine - To sing dirges o'er his stone! - - WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT - - - 103 ON A LITTLE BIRD - - Here lies a little bird. - Once all day long - In Martha's house was heard - His rippling song. - - Tread lightly where he lies - Beneath this stone - With nerveless wings, closed eyes, - And sweet voice gone. - - MARTIN ARMSTRONG - - - 104 ADLESTROP - - Yes. I remember Adlestrop-- - The name, because one afternoon - Of heat the express-train drew up there - Unwontedly. It was late June. - - The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. - No one left and no one came - On the bare platform. What I saw - Was Adlestrop--only the name - - And willows, willow-herb, and grass, - And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry, - No whit less still and lonely fair - Than the high cloudlets in the sky. - - And for that minute a blackbird sang - Close by, and round him, mistier, - Farther and farther, all the birds - Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. - - EDWARD THOMAS - - - 105 THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN - - At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, - Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: - Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard - In the silence of morning the song of the bird. - - 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees - A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; - Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, - And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. - - Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale - Down which she so often has tripped with her pail; - And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's, - The one only dwelling on earth that she loves. - - She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade, - The mist and the river, the hill and the shade; - The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, - And the colours have all passed away from her eyes! - - WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - - - 106 THE THRUSH'S SONG - - Dear, dear, dear, - Is the rocky glen. - Far away, far away, far away - The haunts of men. - - Here shall we dwell in love - With the lark and the dove, - Cuckoo and cornrail; - Feast on the banded snail, - Worm and gilded fly; - Drink of the crystal rill - Winding adown the hill, - Never to dry. - - With glee, with glee, with glee, - Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up, here - Nothing to harm us, then sing merrily, - Sing to the loved ones whose nest is near-- - _Qui, qui, qui, kweeu quip,_ - _Tiurru, tiurru, chipiwi,_ - _Too-tee, too-tee, chiu choo,_ - _Chirri, chirri, chooee,_ - _Quiu, qui, qui._ - - W. MACGILLIVRAY - - - 107 SWEET SUFFOLK OWL - - Sweet Suffolk Owl, so trimly dight - With feathers, like a lady bright, - Thou sing'st alone, sitting by night, - _Te whit! Te whoo! Te whit! To whit!_ - - Thy note that forth so freely rolls - With shrill command the mouse controls; - And sings a dirge for dying souls-- - _Te whit! Te whoo! Te whit! To whit!_ - - THOMAS VAUTOR - - - 108 WHO? WHO? - - "Who--Who--the bride will be?" - "The owl she the bride shall be." - The owl quoth, - Again to them both, - "I am sure a grim ladye; - Not I the bride can be, - I not the bride can be!" - - - 109 WHEN CATS RUN HOME - - When cats run home and light is come, - And dew is cold upon the ground, - And the far-off stream is dumb, - And the whirring sail goes round, - And the whirring sail goes round; - Alone and warming his five wits, - The white owl in the belfry sits. - - When merry milkmaids click the latch, - And rarely smells the new-mown hay, - And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch - Twice or thrice his roundelay, - Twice or thrice his roundelay; - Alone and warming his five wits, - The white owl in the belfry sits. - - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON - - - 110 ONCE - - Once I was a monarch's daughter, - And sat on a lady's knee; - But am now a nightly rover, - Banished to the ivy tree. - - Crying hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, - Hoo, hoo, hoo, my feet are cold. - Pity me, for here you see me - Persecuted, poor, and old. - - - 111 THE WATER-OUSEL - - Where on the wrinkled stream the willows lean, - And fling a very ecstasy of green - Down the dim crystal; and the chestnut tree - Admires her large-leaved shadow, swift and free, - A water-ousel came, with such a flight - As archangels might envy. Soft and bright - Upon a water-kissing bough she lit, - And washed and preened her silver breast, though it - Was dazzling fair before. Then twittering - She sang, and made obeisance to the Spring. - And in the wavering amber at her feet - Her silent shadow, with obedience meet, - Made her quick, imitative curtsies, too. - Maybe she dreamed a nest, so safe and dear, - Where the keen spray leaps whitely to the weir; - And smooth, warm eggs that hold a mystery; - And stirrings of life and twitterings, that she - Is passionately glad of; and a breast - As silver-white as hers, which without rest - Or languor, borne by spread wings swift and strong, - Shall fly upon her service all day long. - She hears a presage in the ancient thunder - Of the silken fall, and her small soul in wonder - Makes preparation as she deems most right, - Repurifying what before was white - Against the day when, like a beautiful dream, - Two little ousels shall fly with her down stream, - And even the poor, dumb shadow-bird shall flit - With two small shadows following after it. - - MARY WEBB - - - 112 L'OISEAU BLEU - - The lake lay blue below the hill. - O'er it, as I looked, there flew - Across the waters, cold and still, - A bird whose wings were palest blue. - - The sky above was blue at last, - The sky beneath me blue in blue. - A moment, ere the bird had passed, - It caught his image as he flew. - - MARY COLERIDGE - - - 113 I HAD A DOVE - - I had a dove and the sweet dove died; - And I have thought it died of grieving: - O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied, - With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving; - Sweet little red feet! why should you die-- - Why should you leave me, sweet bird! Why? - You lived alone in the forest-tree, - Why, pretty thing I would you not live with me? - I kissed you oft and gave you white peas; - Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees? - - JOHN KEATS - - - 114 PHILOMEL - - As it fell upon a day - In the merry month of May, - Sitting in a pleasant shade - Which a grove of myrtles made, - Beasts did leap and birds did sing, - Trees did grow and plants did spring; - Everything did banish moan - Save the Nightingale alone: - She, poor bird, as all forlorn - Leaned her breast up-till a thorn, - And there sung the doleful'st ditty. - That to hear it was great pity. - - _Fie, fie, fie!_ now would she cry; - _Tereu, tereu!_ by and by; - That to hear her so complain - Scarce I could from tears refrain; - For her griefs so lively shown - Made me think upon mine own. - Ah! thought I, thou mourn'st in vain, - None takes pity on thy pain: - Senseless trees they cannot hear thee, - Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee: - King Pandion he is dead, - All thy friends are lapped in lead; - All thy fellow birds do sing - Careless of thy sorrowing: - Even so, poor bird, like thee, - None alive will pity me. - - RICHARD BARNFIELD - - - 115 A SPARROW-HAWK - - A sparhawk proud did hold in wicked jail - Music's sweet chorister, the Nightingale; - To whom with sighs she said: "O set me free, - And in my song I'll praise no bird but thee." - The Hawk replied: "I will not lose my diet - To let a thousand such enjoy their quiet." - - - 116 THE EAGLE - - He clasps the crag with crooked hands; - Close to the sun in lonely lands, - Ringed with the azure world, he stands. - - The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; - He watches from his mountain walls, - And like a thunderbolt he falls. - - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON - - - 117 THE TWA CORBIES - - As I was walking all alane, - I heard twa corbies making a mane, - And tane unto the tither say:-- - "Where sall we gang and dine to-day?" - - "--In behint yon auld fail dyke,[71] - I wat there lies a new-slain Knight; - And naebody kens that he lies there - But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. - - "His hound is to the hunting gane, - His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, - His lady's ta'en another mate, - So we may mak our dinner sweet. - - "Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, - And I'll pick out his bonnie blue een. - Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair - We'll theek[72] our nest when it grows bare. - - "Mony a one for him maks mane, - But nane sall ken where he is gane. - O'er his white banes, where they are bare, - The wind sall blaw for evermair." - - - 118 IN THE WILDERNESS - - Christ of His gentleness - Thirsting and hungering - Walked in the wilderness; - Soft words of grace He spoke - Unto lost desert-folk - That listened wondering. - He heard the bitterns call - From ruined palace-wall, - Answered them brotherly. - He held communion - With the she-pelican - Of lonely piety. - Basilisk, cockatrice, - Flocked to His homilies, - With mail of dread device, - With monstrous barbèd stings, - With eager dragon-eyes; - Great rats on leather wings - And poor blind broken things, - Foul in their miseries. - And ever with Him went, - Of all His wanderings - Comrade, with ragged coat, - Gaunt ribs--poor innocent-- - Bleeding foot, burning throat, - The guileless old scape-goat; - For forty nights and days - Followed in Jesus' ways, - Sure guard behind Him kept, - Tears like a lover wept. - - ROBERT GRAVES - - - 119 STUPIDITY STREET - - I saw with open eyes - Singing birds sweet - Sold in the shops - For the people to eat, - Sold in the shops of - Stupidity Street. - - I saw in vision - The worm in the wheat, - And in the shops nothing - For people to eat; - Nothing for sale in - Stupidity Street. - - RALPH HODGSON - - - 120 COME WARY ONE - - "'Come wary one, come slender feet, - Come pretty bird and sing to me, - I have a cage of wizard wood - With perch of ebony; - Come pretty bird, there's dainty food, - There's cherry, plum, and strawberry, - In my red cage, my wizard cage, - The cage I made for thee.' - - "The bird flew down, the bird flew in, - The cherries they were dried and dead, - She tied him with a silken skein - To a perch of molten lead; - And first most dire he did complain, - And next he sulky sad did fall, - Chained to his perch, his burning perch, - He would not sing at all. - - "There came an elf, a silent elf, - A silver wand hung by his side, - And when that wand lay on the door, - The door did open wide. - The pretty bird with beak he tore - That silken skein, then out flew he, - From that red cage, that greedy cage, - That cage of wizardry." - - RUTH MANNING-SANDERS - - - 121 UPON THE LARK AND THE FOWLER - - Thou simple Bird what mak'st thou here to play? - Look, there's the Fowler, prethee come away. - Dost not behold the Net? Look there 'tis spread, - Venture a little further thou art dead. - Is there not room enough in all the Field - For thee to play in, but thou needs must yield - To the deceitful glitt'ring of a Glass, - Placed betwixt Nets to bring thy death to pass? - Bird, if thou art so much for dazling light, - Look, there's the Sun above thee, dart upright. - Thy nature is to soar up to the Sky, - Why wilt thou come down to the nets, and dye? - Take no heed to the Fowler's tempting Call; - This whistle he enchanteth Birds withal. - Or if thou seest a live Bird in his net, - Believe she's there 'cause thence she cannot get. - Look how he tempteth thee with his Decoy, - That he may rob thee of thy Life, thy Joy: - Come, prethee Bird, I prethee come away, - Why should this net thee take, when 'scape thou may? - Hadst thou not Wings, or were thy feathers pulled, - Or wast thou blind or fast asleep wer't lulled: - The case would somewhat alter, but for thee, - Thy eyes are ope, and thou hast Wings to see. - Remember that thy Song is in thy Rise, - Not in thy Fall, Earth's not thy Paradise. - Keep up aloft then, let thy circuits be - Above, where Birds from Fowlers nets are free.... - - JOHN BUNYAN - - - 122 THE BIRDS - - _He._ Where thou dwellest, in what Grove, - Tell me Fair One, tell me Love; - thou thy charming nest dost build, - O thou pride of every field! - - _She._ Yonder stands a lonely tree, - There I live and mourn for thee; - Morning drinks my silent tear, - And evening winds my sorrow bear. - - _He._ O thou summer's harmony, - I have lived and mourned for thee; - Each day I mourn along the wood, - And night hath heard my sorrows loud. - - _She._ Dost thou truly long for me? - And am I thus sweet to thee? - Sorrow now is at an end, - O my Lover and my Friend! - - _He._ Come, on wings of joy we'll fly - To where my bower hangs on high; - Come, and make thy calm retreat - Among green leaves and blossoms sweet. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 123 TWO PEWITS - - Under the after-sunset sky - Two pewits sport and cry, - More white than is the moon on high - Riding the dark surge silently; - More black than earth. Their cry - Is the one sound under the sky. - They alone move, now low, now high, - And merrily they cry - To the mischievous Spring sky, - Plunging earthward, tossing high, - Over the ghost who wonders why - So merrily they cry and fly, - Nor choose 'twixt earth and sky, - While the moon's quarter silently - Rides, and earth rests as silently. - - EDWARD THOMAS - - - 124 TO A WATERFOWL - - Whither, midst falling dew, - While glow the heavens with the last steps of day - Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue - Thy solitary way? - - Vainly the fowler's eye - Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, - As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, - Thy figure floats along. - - Seek'st thou the plashy brink - Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, - Or where the rocking billows rise and sink - On the chafed ocean-side? - - There is a Power whose care - Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,-- - The desert and illimitable air,-- - Lone wandering, but not lost. - - All day thy wings have fanned - At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere, - Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, - Though the dark night is near. - - And soon that toil shall end; - Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, - And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, - Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. - - Thou'rt gone: the abyss of heaven - Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart - Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, - And shall not soon depart. - - He who, from zone to zone, - Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, - In the long way that I must tread alone, - Will lead my steps aright. - - WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT - - - 125 MIDNIGHT - - ... Midnight was come, when every vital thing - With sweet sound sleep their weary limbs did rest, - The beasts were still, the little birds that sing - Now sweetly slept, beside their mother's breast, - The old and all were shrouded in their nest: - The waters calm, the cruel seas did cease, - The woods, and fields, and all things held their peace. - - The golden stars were whirled amid their race, - And on the earth did laugh with twinkling light, - When each thing, nestled in his resting-place, - Forgat day's pain with pleasure of the night: - The hare had not the greedy hounds in sight, - The fearful deer of death stood not in doubt, - The partridge dreamed not of the falcon's foot. - - The ugly bear now minded not the stake, - Nor how the cruel mastives do him tear; - The stag lay still unrousèd from the brake; - The foamy boar feared not the hunter's spear: - All things were still, in desert, bush, and brere:[73] - With quiet heart, now from their travails ceased, - Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest. - - THOMAS SACKVILLE, LORD BUCKHURST - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - ELPHIN : OUPH : FAY. - - - 126 COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS - - (_Ariel singing_) Come unto these yellow sands, - And then take hands: - Curtsied when you have, and kist, - The wilde waves whist: - Foote it featly heere, and there, - And sweete Sprights the burthen beare. - Harke, harke, _bowgh wawgh_: - The watch-dogges barke, _bowgh wawgh_. - Hark, hark, I heare, - The straine of strutting Chanticlere - Cry _Cockadidle-dowe_. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 127 THE ELVES' DANCE - - Round about, round about - In a fair ring-a, - Thus we dance, thus we dance - And thus we sing-a, - Trip and go, to and fro - Over this green-a, - All about, in and out, - For our brave Queen-a. - - - 128 BY THE MOON - - By the Moone we sport and play, - With the night begins our day: - As we daunce the deaw doth fall, - Trip it little urchins all: - Lightly as the little Bee, - Two by two, and three by three: - And about go we, and about go wee. - - "I do come about the coppes, - Leaping upon flowers toppes: - Then I get upon a flie, - Shee carries me above the skie: - And trip and goe." - - "When a deawe drop falleth downe, - And doth light upon my crowne, - Then I shake my head and skip, - And about I trip. - Two by two, and three by three: - And about go we, and about go wee." - - THOMAS RAVENSCROFT - - - 129 FOR A MOCKING VOICE - - Who calls? Who calls? Who? - Did you call? Did you?-- - I call! I call! I! - Follow where I fly.-- - Where? O where? O where? - On Earth or in the Air?-- - Where you come, I'm gone! - Where you fly, I've flown!-- - Stay! ah, stay! ah, stay, - Pretty Elf, and play! - Tell me where you are-- - _Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!_ - - ELEANOR FARJEON - - - 130 WHERE THE BEE SUCKS - - Where the Bee sucks, there suck I, - In a Cowslip's bell I lie, - There I cowch when Owles do crie; - On the Batt's back I doe flie - After Sommer merrily. - Merrily, merrily, shall I live now - Under the blossom that hangs on the Bow. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 131 ECHO - - How see you Echo? When she calls I see - Her pale face looking down through some great tree, - Whose world of green is like a moving sea, - That shells re-echo. - I see her with a white face like a mask, - That vanishes to come again; damask - Her cheek, but deeply pale, - Her eyes are green, - With a silver sheen, - And she mocks the thing you ask. - "O Echo!" (hear the children calling) "are you there?"... - "Where?"... - - When the wind blows over the hill, - She hides with a vagrant will, - And call you may loud, and call you may long, - She lays finger on lip when the winds are strong, - And for all your pains she is still. - But when young plants spring, and the chiff-chaffs sing, - And the scarlet capped woodpecker flies through the vale, - She is out all day, - Through the fragrant May, - To babble and tattle her Yea and Nay. - "O Echo!" (still the children call) "Where are you? where?"... - "Air...." - - VISCOUNTESS GREY - - - 132 THE SPLENDOUR FALLS - - The splendour falls on castle walls - And snowy summits old in story: - The long light shakes across the lakes, - And the wild cataract leaps in glory. - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, - Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. - - O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, - And thinner, clearer, farther going! - O sweet and far from cliff and scar - The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! - Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: - Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. - - O love, they die in yon rich sky, - They faint on hill or field or river: - Our echoes roll from soul to soul, - And grow for ever and for ever. - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, - And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. - - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON - - - 133 THE FAIRIES - - Up the airy mountain, - Down the rushy glen, - We daren't go a-hunting - For fear of little men; - Wee folk, good folk, - Trooping all together; - Green jacket, red cap, - And white owl's feather! - - Down along the rocky shore - Some make their home, - They live on crispy pancakes - Of yellow tide-foam; - Some in the reeds - Of the black mountain-lake, - With frogs for their watch-dogs, - All night awake. - - High on the hill-top - The old King sits; - He is now so old and gray - He's nigh lost his wits. - With a bridge of white mist - Columbkill he crosses, - On his stately journeys - From Slieveleague to Rosses; - Or going up with music - On cold starry nights, - To sup with the Queen - Of the gay Northern Lights. - - They stole little Bridget - For seven years long; - When she came down again - Her friends were all gone. - They took her lightly back, - Between the night and morrow, - They thought that she was fast asleep, - But she was dead with sorrow. - They have kept her ever since - Deep within the lake, - On a bed of flag-leaves, - Watching till she wake. - - By the craggy hill-side, - Through the mosses bare, - They have planted thorn-trees - For pleasure here and there. - Is any man so daring - As to dig one up in spite, - He shall find the thornies set - In his bed at night. - - Up the airy mountain, - Down the rushy glen, - We daren't go a-hunting - For fear of little men; - Wee folk, good folk, - Trooping all together; - Green jacket, red cap, - And white owl's feather! - - WILLIAM ALLINGHAM - - - 134 OVERHEARD ON A SALTMARSH - - Nymph, nymph, what are your beads? - - Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them? - - Give them me. - - No. - - Give them me. Give them me. - - No. - - Then I will howl all night in the reeds, - Lie in the mud and howl for them. - - Goblin, why do you love them so? - - They are better than stars or water, - Better than voices of winds that sing, - Better than any man's fair daughter, - Your green glass beads on a silver ring. - - Hush, I stole them out of the moon. - - Give me your beads, I want them. - - No. - - I will howl in a deep lagoon - For your green glass beads, I love them so. - Give them me. Give them. - - No. - - HAROLD MONRO - - - 135 THE FAIRY THORN - - "Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning wheel; - For your father's on the hill, and your mother is asleep: - Come up above the crags, and we'll dance a highland reel - Around the fairy thorn on the steep." - - At Anna Grace's door 'twas thus the maidens cried, - Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green; - And Anna laid the rock[74] and the weary wheel aside, - The fairest of the four, I ween. - - They're glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve, - Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare; - The heavy-sliding stream in its sleep song they leave, - And the crags in the ghostly air. - - And linking hand and hand, and singing as they go, - The maids along the hill-side have ta'en their fearless way, - Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty grow - Beside the Fairy Hawthorn grey. - - The hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim, - Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her knee; - The rowan berries cluster o'er her low head grey and dim - In ruddy kisses sweet to see. - - The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row, - Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem, - And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go, - Oh, never carolled bird like them! - - But solemn is the silence of the silvery haze - That drinks away their voices in echoless repose, - And dreamily the evening has stilled the haunted braes, - And dreamier the gloaming grows. - - And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the sky - When the falcon's shadow saileth across the open shaw, - Are hushed the maidens' voices, as cowering down they lie - In the flutter of their sudden awe. - - For, from the air above, and the grassy ground beneath, - And from the mountain-ashes and the old Whitethorn between, - A power of faint enchantment doth through their beings breathe, - And they sink down together on the green. - - They sink together silent, and stealing side to side, - They fling their lovely arms o'er their drooping necks so fair. - Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide, - For their shrinking necks again are bare. - - Thus clasped and prostrate all, with their heads together bowed, - Soft o'er their bosom's beating--the only human sound-- - They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd, - Like a river in the air, gliding round. - - Nor scream can any raise, nor prayer can any say, - But wild, wild, the terror of the speechless three-- - For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away, - By whom they dare not look to see. - - They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of gold, - And the curls elastic falling, as her head withdraws; - They feel her sliding arms from their trancèd arms unfold, - But they dare not look to see the cause: - - For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment lies - Through all that night of anguish and perilous amaze; - And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering eyes - Or their limbs from the cold ground raise, - - Till out of Night the Earth has rolled her dewy side, - With every haunted mountain and streamy vale below; - When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morning-tide, - The maidens' trance dissolveth so. - - Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may, - And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in vain-- - They pined away and died within the year and day, - And ne'er was Anna Grace seen again. - - SAMUEL FERGUSON - - - 136 THE QUEEN OF ELFLAND - - True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank, - And he beheld a ladie gay, - A ladie that was brisk and bold, - Come riding oer the fernie brae. - - Her skirt was of the grass-green silk, - Her mantel of the velvet fine, - At ilka tett of her horse's mane - Hung fifty silver bells and nine. - - True Thomas he took off his hat, - And bowed him low down till his knee: - "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! - For your peer on earth I never did see." - - "O no, O no, True Thomas," she says, - "That name does not belong to me; - I am but the queen of fair Elfland, - And I'm come here for to visit thee.... - - "But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas, - True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, - For ye maun serve me seven years, - Thro weel or wae as may chance to be. - - "Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said, - "Then harp and carp alang wi me; - But it will be seven years and a day - Till ye win back to yere ain countrie." - - She turned about her milk-white steed, - And took True Thomas up behind, - And aye wheneer her bridle rang, - The steed flew swifter than the wind. - - For forty days and forty nights - He wade thro red blude to the knee, - And he saw neither sun nor moon, - But heard the roaring of the sea. - - O they rade on, and further on, - Until they came to a garden green: - "Light down, light down, ye ladie free, - Some of that fruit let me pull to thee." - - "O no, O no, True Thomas," she says, - "That fruit maun not be touched by thee, - For a' the plagues that are in hell - Light on the fruit of this countrie. - - "But I have a loaf here in my lap, - Likewise a bottle of claret wine, - And now ere we go farther on, - We'll rest a while, and ye may dine." - - When he had eaten and drunk his fill:-- - "Lay down your head upon my knee," - The lady sayd, "ere we climb yon hill - And I will show you fairlies three. - - "O see not ye yon narrow road, - So thick beset wi thorns and briers? - That is the path of righteousness, - Tho after it but few enquires. - - "And see not ye that braid braid road, - That lies across yon lillie leven? - That is the path of wickedness, - Tho some call it the road to heaven. - - "And see not ye that bonny road, - Which winds about the fernie brae? - That is the road to fair Elfland, - Where you and I this night maun gae - - "But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, - Whatever you may hear or see, - For gin ae word you should chance to speak, - You will neer get back to your ain countrie." - - He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, - And a pair of shoes of velvet green, - And till seven years were past and gone - True Thomas on earth was never seen. - - - 137 LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI - - O, what can ail thee, knight at arms, - Alone and palely loitering; - The sedge has withered from the lake, - And no birds sing. - - O, what can ail thee, knight at arms, - So haggard and so woe-begone? - The squirrel's granary is full, - And the harvest's done. - - I see a lilly on thy brow - With anguish moist and fever-dew, - And on thy cheeks a fading rose - Fast withereth too. - - I met a lady in the meads, - Full beautiful--a faery's child, - Her hair was long, her foot was light, - And her eyes were wild. - - I made a garland for her head, - And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; - She looked at me as she did love, - And made sweet moan. - - I set her on my pacing steed - And nothing else saw all day long; - For sideways would she lean, and sing - A faery's song. - - She found me roots of relish sweet, - And honey wild and manna dew; - And sure in language strange she said-- - I love thee true. - - She took me to her elfin grot, - And there she gazed and sighed full sore: - And there I shut her wild wild eyes - With kisses four. - - And there she lullèd me asleep, - And there I dreamed, ah woe betide, - The latest dream I ever dreamed - On the cold hill side. - - I saw pale kings and princes too, - Pale warriors, death-pale were they all: - They cry'd--"La belle Dame sans Merci - Hath thee in thrall!" - - I saw their starved lips in the gloam - With horrid warning gapèd wide, - And I awoke, and found me here - On the cold hill side. - - And this is why I sojourn here - Alone and palely loitering, - Though the sedge is withered from the lake, - And no birds sing. - - JOHN KEATS - - - 138 SABRINA - - "Sabrina fair - Listen where thou art sitting - Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave, - In twisted braids of Lillies knitting - The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair, - Listen for dear honour's sake, - Goddess of the silver lake, - Listen and save!... - By all the _Nymphs_ that nightly dance - Upon thy streams with wily glance, - Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head - From thy coral-pav'n bed, - And bridle in thy headlong wave, - Till thou our summons answered have. - Listen and save!" - - "By the rushy-fringèd bank, - Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank, - My sliding Chariot stayes, - Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheen - Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green - That in the channell strayes, - Whilst from off the waters fleet - Thus I set my printless feet - O're the Cowslips Velvet head, - That bends not as I tread, - Gentle swain at thy request - I am here." - - JOHN MILTON - - - 139 NOW THE HUNGRY LION ROARS - - "Now the hungry Lyon rores, - And the Wolfe behowls the Moone: - Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, - All with weary taske fordone. - Now the wasted brands doe glow, - Whil'st the scritch-owle scritching loud, - Puts the wretch that lies in woe - In remembrance of a shrowd. - Now it is the time of night - That the graves, all gaping wide, - Every one lets forth his spright, - In the Church-way paths to glide. - And we Fairies, that do runne - By the triple _Hecate_'s teame, - From the presence of the Sunne, - Following darknesse like a dreame, - Now are frollicke; not a Mouse - Shall disturbe this hallowed house. - I am sent with broome before, - To sweep the dust behinde the doore." - - "Through the house give glimmering light, - By the dead and drowsie fier; - Everie Elfe and Fairie spright - Hop as light as bird from brier!..." - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 140 THE FAIRIES FEAST - - ... _Awn._ Who feasts tonight? - - _Some Elves._ Prince Olbin is truth-plight - To Rosalind, daughter of the Faery Queen. - - _Other Elves._ She's a mannikin changeling; her name shows it. - - _Other Elves._ We have heard tell; that she as dream is fair. - - _Awn._ I've heard old Paigle say, fays gave for her - To humans, in the cradle, Moonsheen bright. - - _Other Elves._ And Eglantine should wedded be this night, - To Ivytwine, in the laughing full moon. - - _Moth._ I was there and saw it: on hoar roots, - All gnarled and knotty, of an antique oak, ... - Crowned, some with plighted frets of violets sweet; - Other, with flower-cups many-hewed, had dight - Their locks of gold; the gentle faeries sate: - All in their watchet cloaks: were dainty mats - Spread under them, of dwarve-wives rushen work: - And primroses were strewed before their feet. - They at banquet sate, from dim of afternoon ... - - (_Enter more elves running._) - - _Howt._ Whence come ye foothot? - - _One of the new-come Elves._ O Awn, O Howt! - Not past a league from hence, lies close-cropped - plot, - Where purple milkworts blow, which conies haunt, - Amidst the windy heath. We saw gnomes dance - There; that not bigger been than harvest mice. - Some of their heads were deckt, as seemed to us, - With moonbeams bright: and those tonight hold feast: - Though in them there none utterance is of speech. - - _Awn._ Be those our mothers' cousins, dainty of grace: - But seld now, in a moonlight, are they seen. - They live not longer than do humble been. - - _Elves._ We saw of living herb, intressed with moss, - Their small wrought cabins open on the grass. - - _Awn._ Other, in gossamer bowers, wonne underclod. - - _Elves._ And each gnome held in hand a looking glass; - Wherein he keeked, and kissed oft the Moons face. - - _Awn._ Are they a faery offspring, without sex, - Of the stars' rays. - - _Elves._ They'd wings on their flit feet; - That seemed, in their oft shining, glancing drops - Of rain, which beat on bosom of the grass: - Wherein be some congealed as adamant. - We stooped to gaze (a neighbour tussock hidus,) - On sight so fair: their beauty being such, - That seemed us it all living thought did pass. - Yet were we spied! for looked down full upon us, - - Disclosing then murk skies, Moons clear still face. - In that they shrunk back, and clapped tó their doors.... - - CHARLES M. DOUGHTY - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - SUMMER : GREENWOOD SOLITUDE. - - - 141 THE HUNT IS UP - - The hunt is up, the hunt is up, - And it is well nigh day; - And Harry our King is gone hunting - To bring his deer to bay. - - The east is bright with morning light, - And darkness it is fled; - And the merry horn wakes up the morn - To leave his idle bed. - - Behold the skies with golden dyes - Are glowing all around; - The grass is green, and so are the treen - All laughing at the sound. - - The horses snort to be at sport, - The dogs are running free, - The woods rejoice at the merry noise - Of _Hey tantara tee ree!_ - - The sun is glad to see us clad - All in our lusty green, - And smiles in the sky as he riseth high - To see and to be seen. - - Awake all men, I say again, - Be merry as you may; - For Harry our King is gone hunting, - To bring his deer to bay. - - - 142 THE CHEERFUL HORN - - The cheerful arn he blaws in the marn, - And we'll a-'untin' goo; - The cheerful arn he blaws in the marn, - And we'll a-'untin' goo, - And we'll a-'untin' goo, - And we'll a-'untin' goo ... - Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy, - And I'll zing Tally ho! - Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy, - And I'll zing Tally ho! - - The vox jumps awer the 'edge zo 'igh, - An' the 'ouns all atter un goo; - Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy, - And I'll zing Tally ho! - - Then never despoise the soldjer lod, - Thof 'is ztaition be boot low; - Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy, - And I'll zing Tally ho! - - Then push about the coop, my bwoys, - An' we will wumwards goo, - Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy, - And I'll zing Tally ho! - - If you áx me the zénze of this zóng vur to téll, - Or the reäzon vur to zhow; - Woy, I doän't exacaly knoo, - Woy, I doän't exacaly knoo: - Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy, - And I'll zing Tally ho! - Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy, - And I'll zing Tally ho! - - - 143 JOHN PEEL - - D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay? - D'ye ken John Peel at the break of the day? - D'ye ken John Peel when he's far, far away, - With his hounds and his horn in the morning? - 'Twas the sound of his horn called me from my bed, - And the cry of his hounds has me oft-times led, - For Peel's _View-hollo_ would awaken the dead, - Or a fox from his lair in the morning. - - D'ye ken that bitch whose tongue is death? - D'ye ken her sons of peerless faith? - D'ye ken that a fox with his last breath - Cursed them all as he died in the morning? - - Yes, I ken John Peel and Ruby too - Ranter and Royal and Bellman as true; - From the drag to the chase, from the chase to a view, - From a view to the death in the morning. - - And I've followed John Peel both often and far - O'er the rasper-fence and the gate and the bar, - From Low Denton Holme up to Scratchmere Scar, - When we vied for the brush in the morning. - - Then here's to John Peel with my heart and soul, - Come fill--fill to him another strong bowl: - And we'll follow John Peel through fair and through foul, - While we're waked by his horn in the morning. - 'Twas the sound of his horn called me from my bed, - And the cry of his hounds has me oft-times led, - For Peel's _View-hollo_ would awaken the dead - Or a fox from his lair in the morning. - - JOHN WOODCOCK GRAVES - - - 144 THE SCHOOLBOY - - I love to rise in a summer morn - When the birds sing on every tree; - The distant huntsman winds his horn, - And the skylark sings with me. - O! what sweet company. - - But to go to school in a summer morn, - O! it drives all joy away; - Under a cruel eye outworn, - The little ones spend the day - In sighing and dismay. - - Ah! then at times I drooping sit, - And spend many an anxious hour, - Nor in my book can I take delight, - Nor sit in learning's bower, - Worn thro' with the dreary shower. - - How can the bird that is born for joy - Sit in a cage and sing? - How can a child, when fears annoy, - But droop his tender wing, - And forget his youthful spring? - - O! father and mother, if buds are nipped, - And blossoms blown away, - And if the tender plants are stripped - Of their joy in the springing day, - By sorrow and care's dismay, - - How shall the summer arise in joy, - Or the summer fruits appear? - Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy, - Or bless the mellowing year, - When the blasts of winter appear? - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 145 A BOY'S SONG - - Where the pools are bright and deep, - Where the grey trout lies asleep, - Up the river and over the lea, - That's the way for Billy and me. - - Where the blackbird sings the latest, - Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, - Where the nestlings chirp and flee, - That's the way for Billy and me. - - Where the mowers mow the cleanest, - Where the hay lies thick and greenest, - There to track the homeward bee, - That's the way for Billy and me. - - Where the hazel bank is steepest, - Where the shadow falls the deepest, - Where the clustering nuts fall free, - That's the way for Billy and me. - - Why the boys should drive away - Little sweet maidens from their play, - Or love to banter and fight so well, - That's the thing I never could tell. - - But this I know, I love to play - Through the meadow, among the hay; - Up the water and over the lea, - That's the way for Billy and me. - - JAMES HOGG - - - 146 MARKET DAY - - Who'll walk the fields with us to town, - In an old coat and a faded gown? - We take our roots and country sweets, - Where high walls shade the steep old streets, - And golden bells and silver chimes - Ring up and down the sleepy times. - The morning mountains smoke like fires; - The sun spreads out his shining wires; - The mower in the half-mown lezza - Sips his tea and takes his pleasure. - Along the lane slow waggons amble. - The sad-eyed calves awake and gamble; - The foal that lay so sorrowful - Is playing in the grasses cool. - By slanting ways, in slanting sun, - Through startled lapwings now we run - Along the pale green hazel-path, - Through April's lingering aftermath - Of lady's smock and lady's slipper; - We stay to watch a nesting dipper. - The rabbits eye us while we pass, - Out of the sorrel-crimson grass; - The blackbird sings, without a fear, - Where honeysuckle horns blow clear-- - Cool ivory stained with true vermilion, - And here, within a silk pavilion, - Small caterpillars lie at ease. - The endless shadows of the trees - Are painted purple and cobalt; - Grandiloquent, the rook-files halt, - Each one aware of you and me, - And full of conscious dignity. - Our shoes are golden as we pass - With pollen from the pansied grass. - Beneath an elder--set anew - With large clean plates to catch the dew-- - On fine white cheese and bread we dine. - The clear brook-water tastes like wine. - If all folk lived with labour sweet - Of their own busy hands and feet, - Such marketing, it seems to me, - Would make an end of poverty. - - MARY WEBB - - - 147 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE - - Under the greenewood tree, - Who loves to lye with me, - And turne his merrie Note - Unto the sweet Bird's throte: - Come hither, come hither, come hither, - Heere shall he see no enemie - But Winter and rough Weather. - - Who doth ambition shunne - And loves to live i' the Sunne, - Seeking the food he eates - And pleased with what he gets: - Come hither, come hither, come hither, - Here shall he see no enemie - But Winter and rough Weather. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 148 IN SUMMER - - In somer when the shawes be sheyne,[75] - And leves be large and long, - Hit[76] is full merry in feyre foreste - To here the foulys[77] song. - - To se the dere draw to the dale - And leve the hillÄ—s hee, - And shadow him in the levÄ—s grene - Under the green-wode tree. - - Hit befell on Whitsontide - Early in a May mornyng, - The Sonne up fairÄ— gan shyne, - And the briddis mery gan syng. - - "This is a mery mornyng," said Litulle Johne, - "By Hym that dyed on tree; - A more mery man than I am one - Lyves not in ChristiantÄ—. - - "Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster," - Litulle Johne can say, - "And thank hit is a fulle fayre tyme - In a mornynge of May." - - - 149 LUBBER BREEZE - - The four sails of the mill - Like stocks stand still; - Their lantern-length is white - On blue more bright. - - Unruffled is the mead, - Where lambkins feed - And sheep and cattle browse - And donkeys drowse. - - Never the least breeze will - The wet thumb chill - That the anxious miller lifts, - Till the vane shifts. - - The breeze in the great flour-bin - Is snug tucked in; - The lubber, while rats thieve, - Laughs in his sleeve. - - T. STURGE MOORE - - - 150 A SUMMER'S DAY - - "The ample heaven of fabrik sure, - In cleannes dois surpas - The chrystall and the silver pure, - Or clearest poleist[78] glas. - - The shadow of the earth anon - Removes and drawÄ—s by, - Sine in the east, when it is gon, - Appears a clearer sky. - - Quhilk sune[79] perceives the little larks, - The lapwing and the snyp, - And tune their sangs, like Nature's clarks - Our medow, mure and stryp.[80] - - The time sa tranquil is and still, - That na where sall ye find, - Saife on ane high and barren hill, - Ane aire of peeping wind. - - All trees and simples[81] great and small, - That balmie leife do beir, - Nor thay were painted on a wall, - Na mair they move or steir[82]...." - - ALEXANDER HUME - - - 151 LEISURE - - What is this life if, full of care, - We have no time to stand and stare? - - No time to stand beneath the boughs - And stare as long as sheep or cows. - - No time to see, when woods we pass, - Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. - - No time to see, in broad daylight, - Streams full of stars, like skies at night. - - No time to turn at Beauty's glance, - And watch her feet, how they can dance. - - No time to wait till her mouth can - Enrich that smile her eyes began. - - A poor life this if, full of care, - We have no time to stand and stare. - - WILLIAM H. DAVIES - - - 152 THE HAPPY COUNTRYMAN - - Who can live in heart so glad - As the merry country lad? - Who upon a fair green balk[83] - May at pleasure sit and walk, - And amid the azure skies - See the morning sun arise,-- - While he hears in every spring - How the birds do chirp and sing: - Or before the hounds in cry - See the hare go stealing by: - Or along the shallow brook, - Angling with a baited hook, - See the fishes leap and play - In a blessèd sunny day: - Or to hear the partridge call, - Till she have her covey all: - Or to see the subtle fox, - How the villain plies the box: - After feeding on his prey, - How he closely sneaks away, - Through the hedge and down the furrow - Till he gets into his burrow: - Then the bee to gather honey, - And the little black-haired coney, - On a bank for sunny place, - With her forefeet wash her face: - Are not these, with thousands moe[84] - Than the courts of kings do know, - The true pleasing spirit's sights - That may breed true love's delights?... - - NICHOLAS BRETON - - - 153 "O FOR A BOOKE" - - O for a Booke and a shadie nooke, - eyther in-a-doore or out; - With the grene leaves whispering overhede, - or the Streete cryes all about. - Where I maie Reade all at my ease, - both of the Newe and Olde; - For a jollie goode Booke whereon to looke, - is better to me than Golde. - - - 154 GREEN BROOM - - There was an old man lived out in the wood, - His trade was a-cutting of Broom, green Broom; - He had but one son without thrift, without good, - Who lay in his bed till 'twas noon bright noon. - - The old man awoke, one morning and spoke, - He swore he would fire the room, that room, - If his John would not rise and open his eyes, - And away to the wood to cut Broom, green Broom. - - So Johnny arose, and he slipped on his clothes, - And away to the wood to cut Broom, green Broom, - He sharpened his knives, for once he contrives - To cut a great bundle of Broom, green Broom. - - When Johnny passed under a lady's fine house, - Passed under a lady's fine room, fine room, - She called to her maid, "Go fetch me," she said, - "Go fetch me the boy that sells Broom, green Broom." - - When Johnny came in to the lady's fine house, - And stood in the lady's fine room, fine room; - "Young Johnny," she said, "Will you give up your trade, - And marry a lady in bloom, full bloom?" - - Johnny gave his consent, and to church they both went, - And he wedded the lady in bloom, full bloom, - At market and fair, all folks do declare, - There is none like the Boy that sold Broom, green Broom. - - - 155 THE TWELVE OXEN - - I have twelfÄ— oxen that be faire and brown, - And they go a grasing down by the town. - With hey! with how! with hoy! - Saweste not you mine oxen, you litill prety boy? - - I have twelfÄ— oxen, and they be faire and white, - And they go a grasing down by the dyke. - With hey! with how! with hoy! - Saweste not you mine oxen, you litill prety boy? - - I have twelfÄ— oxen, and they be faire and blak, - And they go a grasing down by the lake. - With hey! with how! with hoy! - Saweste not you mine oxen, you litill prety boy? - - I have twelfÄ— oxen, and they be faire and rede, - And they go a grasing down by the mede - With hey! with how! with hoy! - Saweste not you mine oxen, you litill prety boy? - - - 156 LAVENDER'S BLUE - - Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green, - When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen - Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so? - 'Twas mine one heart, dilly dilly, that told me so. - - Call up your men, dilly dilly, set them to work, - Some with a rake, dilly dilly, some with a fork, - Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to thresh corn, - Whilst you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm.... - - - 157 THE GARDEN - - ... What wondrous life is this I lead! - Ripe apples drop about my head; - The luscious clusters of the vine - Upon my mouth do crush their wine; - The nectarine and curious peach - Into my hands themselves do reach; - Stumbling on melons, as I pass, - Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. - - Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, - Withdraws into its happiness; - The mind, that ocean where each kind - Does straight its own resemblance find; - Yet it creates, transcending these, - Far other worlds and other seas, - Annihilating all that's made - To a green thought in a green shade. - - Here at the fountain's sliding foot - Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, - Casting the body's vest aside - My soul into the boughs does glide: - There, like a bird, it sits and sings, - Then whets[85] and claps its silver wings, - And, till prepared for longer flight, - Waves in its plumes the various light.... - - Such was the happy Garden-state - While man there walked without a mate: - After a place so pure and sweet, - What other help could yet be meet! - But 'twas beyond a mortal's share - To wander solitary there: - Two paradises 'twere in one, - To live in Paradise alone.... - - ANDREW MARVELL - - - 158 CHERRY-RIPE - - Cherrie Ripe, Ripe, Ripe, I cry, - Full and faire ones; come and buy: - If so be you ask me where - They doe grow? I answer, There, - Where my _Julia's_ lips doe smile; - There's the Land, or Cherrie Ile: - Whose Plantations fully show - All the yeare, where Cherries grow. - - ROBERT HERRICK - - - 159 CHERRY-RIPE - - There is a Garden in her face - Where Roses and white Lillies grow; - A heav'nly paradice is that place, - Wherein all pleasant fruits doe flow. - There Cherries grow, which none may buy, - Till _Cherry Ripe_ themselves doe cry. - - Those Cherries fayrely doe enclose - Of Orient Pearle a double row, - Which when her lovely laughter showes, - They look like Rose-buds filled with snow. - Yet them nor Peere nor Prince can buy, - Till _Cherry Ripe_ themselves doe cry. - - Her Eyes like Angels watch them still; - Her Browes like bended bowes doe stand, - Threat'ning with piercing frownes to kill - All that approach with eye or hand - These sacred Cherries to come nigh, - Till _Cherry Ripe_ themselves doe cry. - - THOMAS CAMPION - - - 160 SONG - - What is there hid in the heart of a rose, - Mother-mine? - Ah, who knows, who knows, who knows? - A Man that died on a lonely hill - May tell you, perhaps, but none other will, - Little child. - - What does it take to make a rose, - Mother-mine? - The God that died to make it knows - It takes the world's eternal wars, - It takes the moon and all the stars, - It takes the might of heaven and hell - And the everlasting Love as well, - Little child. - - ALFRED NOYES - - - 161 THE MYSTERY - - He came and took me by the hand - Up to a red rose tree, - He kept His meaning to Himself - But gave a rose to me. - I did not pray Him to lay bare - The mystery to me, - Enough the rose was Heaven to smell, - And His own face to see. - - RALPH HODGSON - - - 162 THE ROSE - - A Rose, as fair as ever saw the North, - Grew in a little garden all alone; - A sweeter flower did Nature ne'er put forth, - Nor fairer garden yet was never known: - - The maidens danced about it morn and noon, - And learnèd bards of it their ditties made; - The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon - Watered the root and kissed her pretty shade. - - But well-a-day!--the gardener careless grew; - The maids and fairies both were kept away, - And in a drought the caterpillars threw - Themselves upon the bud and every spray. - - God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies, - The fairest blossom of the garden dies. - - WILLIAM BROWNE - - - 163 SONG - - Ask me no more, where Jove bestows - When June is past the fading rose; - For in your beauty's orient deep - These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. - - Ask me no more, whither do stray - The golden atoms of the day; - For in pure love heaven did prepare - Those powders to enrich your hair. - - Ask me no more, whither doth haste - The nightingale when May is past; - For in your sweet dividing throat - She winters and keeps warm her note. - - Ask me no more, where those stars light[86] - That downwards fall in dead of night; - For in your eyes they sit and there - Fixèd become as in their sphere. - - Ask me no more if east or west - The PhÅ“nix builds her spicy nest; - For unto you at last she flies, - And in your fragrant bosom dies. - - THOMAS CAREW - - - 164 THE BOWER OF BLISS - -(_The "daintie Paradise of the Enchauntresse" whereinto the Palmer -brought Sir Guyon._) - - ... And in the midst of all, a fountaine stood, - Of richest substaunce that on earth might bee, - So pure and shiny, that the silver flood - Through every channell running, one might see; - Most goodly it with pure imageree - Was over-wrought, and shapes of naked boyes, - Of which some seemed with lively jollitee - To fly about, playing their wanton toyes, - Whiles others did them selves embay in liquid joyes. - - And over all, of purest gold was spred - A trayle of yvie in his native hew: - For the rich mettall was so colouréd, - That wight, who did not well-advised it vew, - Would surely deeme it to be yvie treu. - Lowe his lascivious arms adown did creepe, - That themselves dipping in the silver dew, - Their fleecy flowres they tenderly did steepe, - Which drops of Cristall seemd for wantonnes to weepe. - - Infinit streames continually did well - Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see, - The which into an ample laver fell, - And shortly grew to so great quantitie, - That like a little lake it seemed to bee; - Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight, - That through the waves one might the bottom see, - All paved beneath with Jaspar shining bright - That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright. - - And all the margent round about was set - With shady lawrell-trees, thence to defend - The sunny beames, which on the billows bet, - And those which therein bathèd, mote[87] offend.... - - Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound, - Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, - Such as att once might not on living ground, - Save in this Paradise, be heard elswhere: - Right hard it was, for wight, which did it heare, - To read, what manner musicke that mote bee: - For all that pleasing is to living care, - Was there consorted in one harmonie, - Birdes, voyces, instruments, windes, waters, all agree. - - The joyous birdes, shrouded in cheareful shade, - Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet; - Th' Angelicall soft trembling voyces made - To th' instruments divine respondence meet: - The silver sounding instruments did meet - With the base murmure of the waters fall: - The waters fall with difference discreet, - Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call: - The gentle warbling wind low answerèd to all. - - EDMUND SPENSER - - - 165 SMALL FOUNTAINS - - ... Jarring the air with rumour cool, - Small fountains played into a pool - With sound as soft as the barley's hiss - When its beard just sprouting is; - Whence a young stream, that trod on moss, - Prettily rimpled the court across. - And in the pool's clear idleness, - Moving like dreams through happiness, - Shoals of small bright fishes were; - In and out weed-thickets bent - Perch and carp, and sauntering went - With mounching jaws and eyes a-stare; - Or on a lotus leaf would crawl, - A brinded loach to bask and sprawl, - Tasting the warm sun ere it dipt - Into the water; but quick as fear - Back his shining brown head slipt - To crouch on the gravel of his lair, - Where the cooled sunbeams broke in wrack, - Spilt shattered gold about his back.... - - LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE - - - 166 THE INVITATION, TO JANE - - Best and brightest, come away! - Fairer far than this fair Day, - Which, like thee to those in sorrow, - Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow - To the rough Year just awake - In its cradle on the brake. - The brightest hour of unborn Spring, - Through the winter wandering, - Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn - To hoar February born; - Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, - It kissed the forehead of the Earth, - And smiled upon the silent sea, - And bade the frozen streams be free. - And waked to music all their fountains, - And breathed upon the frozen mountains, - And like a prophetess of May - Strewed flowers upon the barren way, - Making the wintry world appear - Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.... - - Radiant sister of the Day, - Awake! arise! and come away! - To the wild woods and the plains, - And the pools where winter rains - Image all their roof of leaves, - Where the pine its garland weaves - Of sapless green and ivy dun - Round stems that never kiss the sun; - Where the lawns and pastures be, - And the sand-hills of the sea;-- - Where the melting hoar-frost wets - The daisy-star that never sets, - The wind-flowers, and violets, - Which yet join not scent to hue, - Crown the pale year weak and new; - When the night is left behind - In the deep east, dun and blind, - And the blue noon is over us, - And the multitudinous - Billows murmur at our feet, - Where the earth and ocean meet, - And all things seem only one - In the universal sun. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 167 THE RECOLLECTION - - ... We wandered to the Pine Forest - That skirts the Ocean's foam; - The lightest wind was in its nest, - The tempest in its home. - The whispering waves were half asleep, - The clouds were gone to play, - And on the bosom of the deep - The smile of Heaven lay; - It seemed as if the hour were one - Sent from beyond the skies, - Which scattered from above the sun - A light of Paradise! - - We paused amid the pines that stood - The giants of the waste, - Tortured by storms to shapes as rude - As serpents interlaced, - And soothed by every azure breath, - That under heaven is blown, - To harmonies and hues beneath, - As tender as its own: - Now all the tree-tops lay asleep - Like green waves on the sea, - As still as in the silent deep - The ocean woods may be. - - How calm it was!--The silence there - By such a chain was bound - That even the busy woodpecker - Made stiller with her sound - The inviolable quietness; - The breath of peace we drew - With its soft motion made not less - The calm that round us grew. - There seemed, from the remotest seat - Of the white mountain waste - To the soft flower beneath our feet, - A magic circle traced,-- - A spirit interfused around, - A thrilling, silent life-- - To momentary peace it bound - Our mortal nature's strife;-- - And still I felt the centre of - The magic circle there - Was one fair form that filled with love - The lifeless atmosphere.... - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 168 THE GOAT PATHS - - The crooked paths go every way - Upon the hill--they wind about - Through the heather in and out - Of the quiet sunniness. - And there the goats, day after day, - Stray in sunny quietness, - Cropping here and cropping there, - As they pause and turn and pass, - Now a bit of heather spray, - Now a mouthful of the grass. - - In the deeper sunniness, - In the place where nothing stirs, - Quietly in quietness, - In the quiet of the furze, - For a time they come and lie - Staring on the roving sky. - - If you approach they run away, - They leap and stare, away they bound, - With a sudden angry sound, - To the sunny quietude; - Crouching down where nothing stirs - In the silence of the furze, - Couching down again to brood - In the sunny solitude. - - If I were as wise as they, - I would stray apart and brood, - I would beat a hidden way - Through the quiet heather spray - To a sunny solitude; - - And should you come I'd run away, - I would make an angry sound, - I would stare and turn and bound - To the deeper quietude, - To the place where nothing stirs - In the silence of the furze. - - In that airy quietness - I would think as long as they; - Through the quiet sunniness - I would stray away to brood - By a hidden beaten way - In a sunny solitude, - I would think until I found - Something I can never find, - Something lying on the ground, - In the bottom of my mind. - - JAMES STEPHENS - - - 169 UNDER A WILTSHIRE APPLE TREE - - Some folks as can afford, - So I've heard say, - Set up a sort of cross - Right in the garden way - To mind 'em of the Lord. - But I, when I do see - Thik[88] apple tree - An' stoopin' limb - All spread wi' moss, - I think of Him - And how He talks wi' me. - - I think of God - And how He trod - That garden long ago; - He walked, I reckon, to and fro - And then sat down - Upon the groun' - Or some low limb - What suited Him, - Such as you see - On many a tree, - And on thik very one - Where I at set o' sun - Do sit and talk wi' He. - - And, mornings, too, I rise and come - An' sit down where the branch be low; - A bird do sing, a bee do hum, - The flowers in the border blow, - And all my heart's so glad and clear - As pools be when the sun do peer, - As pools a-laughing in the light - When mornin' air is swep' an' bright, - As pools what got all Heaven in sight, - So's my heart's cheer - When He be near. - - He never pushed the garden door, - He left no footmark on the floor; - I never heard 'Un stir nor tread - And yet His Hand do bless my head, - And when 'tis time for work to start - I takes Him with me in my heart. - And when I die, pray God I see - At very last thik apple tree - An' stoopin' limb, - And think of Him - And all He been to me. - - ANNA BUNSTON DE BARY - - - 170 WONDER - - How like an Angel came I down! - How bright were all things here! - When first among His works I did appear - O how their Glory me did crown! - The world resembled His ETERNITY, - In which my soul did walk; - And every thing that I did see - Did with me talk. - - The skies in their magnificence, - The lively, lovely air, - Oh how divine, how soft, how sweet, how fair! - The stars did entertain my sense, - And all the works of God, so bright and pure, - So rich and great did seem, - As if they ever must endure - In my esteem.... - - The streets were paved with golden stones, - The boys and girls were mine, - Oh how did all their lovely faces shine! - The sons of men were holy ones, - In joy and beauty they appeared to me, - And every thing which here I found, - While like an Angel I did see, - Adorned the ground. - - Rich diamond and pearl and gold - In every place was seen; - Rare splendours, yellow, blue, red, white and green, - Mine eyes did everywhere behold. - Great wonders clothed with glory did appear, - Amazement was my bliss, - That and my wealth was everywhere; - No joy to this!... - - THOMAS TRAHERNE - - - 171 SONG - - How sweet I roamed from field to field - And tasted all the summer's pride, - Till I the Prince of Love beheld - Who in the sunny beams did glide! - - He showed me lilies for my hair, - And blushing roses for my brow; - He led me through his gardens fair - Where all his golden pleasures grow. - - With sweet May dews my wings were wet, - And Phoebus fired my vocal rage; - He caught me in his silken net, - And shut me in his golden cage. - - He loves to sit and hear me sing, - Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; - Then stretches out my golden wing, - And mocks my loss of liberty. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 172 THE BOOK - - Of this fair volume which we World do name - If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care, - Of Him who it corrects and did it frame, - We clear might read the art and wisdom rare: - - Find out His power which wildest powers doth tame, - His providence extending everywhere, - His justice which proud rebels doth not spare, - In every page, no period of the same. - - But silly we, like foolish children, rest - Well pleased with coloured vellum, leaves of gold, - Fair dangling ribbands, leaving what is best, - On the great Writer's sense ne'er taking hold; - - Or, if by chance we stay our minds on aught, - It is some picture on the margin wrought. - - WILLIAM DRUMMOND - - - 173 TETHY'S FESTIVAL - - Are they shadows that we see? - And can shadows pleasure give? - Pleasures only shadow's be, - Cast by bodies we conceive; - And are made the things we deem - In those figures which they seem. - - But those pleasures vanish fast, - Which by shadow's are exprest; - Pleasures are not, if they last; - In their passing is their best: - Glory is more bright and gay - In a flash, and so away. - - Feed apace then, greedy eyes, - On the wonder you behold: - Take it sudden, as it flies, - Though you take it not to hold. - When your eyes have done their part - Thought must length'n it in the heart. - - SAMUEL DANIEL - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - WAR - - - 174 A WAR SONG TO ENGLISHMEN - - Prepare, prepare the iron helm of War, - Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb; - The Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands, - And casts them out upon the darkened earth! - Prepare, prepare! - - Prepare your hearts for Death's cold hand! prepare - Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth; - Prepare your arms for glorious victory; - Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God! - Prepare, prepare! - - Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks 'tis mine! - Why sinks my heart, why faltereth my tongue? - Had I three lives, I'd die in such a cause, - And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field. - Prepare, prepare! - - The arrows of Almighty God are drawn! - Angels of Death stand in the lowering heavens! - Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light, - And walk together on the clouds of heaven! - Prepare, prepare! - - Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven's cause; - Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause: - Prepare to meet our fathers in the sky: - Prepare, O troops, that are to fall to-day! - Prepare, prepare! - - Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice; - The Norman William, and the learned Clerk, - And Lion Heart, and black-browed Edward, with - His loyal Queen, shall rise, and welcome us! - Prepare, prepare! - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 175 FOR SOLDIERS - - Ye buds of Brutus' land, courageous youths, now play your parts; - Unto your tackle stand, abide the brunt with valiant hearts. - For news is carried to and fro, that we must forth to warfare go: - Men muster now in every place, and soldiers are prest forth apace. - Faint not, spend blood, - To do your Queen and country good; - Fair words, good pay, - Will make men cast all care away. - - The time of war is come, prepare your corslet, spear and shield; - Methinks I hear the drum strike doleful marches to the field; - Tantarâ, tantarâ, ye trumpets sound, which makes our hearts with - joy abound. - The roaring guns are heard afar, and everything denounceth war. - Serve God; stand stout; - Bold courage brings this gear about. - Fear not; fate run[89]; - Faint heart fair lady never won. - - Ye curious[90] carpet-knights, that spend the time in sport and - play; - Abroad and see new sights, your country's cause calls you away; - Do not to make your ladies' game, bring blemish to your worthy name. - Away to field and win renown, with courage beat your enemies down. - Stout hearts gain praise, - When dastards sail in Slander's seas; - Hap what hap shall, - We sure shall die but once for all. - - Alarm methinks they cry, Be packing, mates, begone with speed; - Our foes are very nigh; shame have that man that shrinks at need! - Unto it boldly let us stand, God will give Right the upper hand. - Our cause is good, we need not doubt, in sign of coming give a shout. - March forth, be strong, - Good hap will come ere it be long. - Shrink not, fight well, - For lusty lads must bear the bell. - - All you that will shun evil, must dwell in warfare every day; - The world, the flesh, and devil, always do seek our soul's decay; - Strive with these foes with all your might, so shall you fight - a worthy fight. - That conquest doth deserve most praise, where vice do yield - to virtue's ways. - Beat down foul sin, - A worthy crown then shall ye win; - If ye live well, - In heaven with Christ our souls shall dwell. - - HUMPHREY GIFFORD - - - 176 BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC - - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; - He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; - He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; - His truth is marching on. - - I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; - They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; - I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps; - His day is marching on. - - I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel: - "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; - Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, - Since God is marching on." - - He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; - He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat; - Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet! - Our God is marching on. - - In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, - With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me: - As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, - While God is marching on. - - JULIA WARD HOWE - - - 177 "I HEARD A SOLDIER" - - I heard a soldier sing some trifle - Out in the sun-dried veldt alone: - He lay and cleaned his grimy rifle - Idly, behind a stone. - - "If after death, love, comes a waking, - And in their camp so dark and still - The men of dust hear bugles, breaking - Their halt upon the hill, - - "To me the slow, the silver pealing - That then the last high trumpet pours - Shall softer than the dawn come stealing, - For, with its call, comes yours!" - - What grief of love had he to stifle, - Basking so idly by his stone, - That grimy soldier with his rifle - Out in the veldt, alone? - - HERBERT TRENCH - - - 178 THE DUG-OUT - - Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled, - And one arm bent across your sullen cold - Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you, - Deep-shadowed from the candle's guttering gold; - And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder; - Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head ... - You are too young to fall asleep for ever; - And when you sleep you remind me of the dead. - - SIEGFRIED SASSOON - - - 179 NOCTURNE - - Be thou at peace this night - Wherever be thy bed, - Thy slumbering be light, - The fearful dreams be dead - Within thy lovely head; - God keep thee in His sight. - - No hint of love molest - Thy quiet mind again; - Night fold thee to her breast - And hush thy crying pain; - Let memory in vain - Conspire against thy rest. - - So may thy thoughts be lost - In the full hush of sleep. - Lest any sight accost - Thine eyes to make them weep, - In darkness buried deep - For ever be my ghost. - - EDWARD L. DAVISON - - - 180 THE DEAD - - These hearts were woven of human joys and cares, - Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth. - The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs, - And sunset, and the colours of the earth. - - These had seen movement, and heard music; known - Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended; - Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone; - Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended. - - There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter - And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after, - Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance - And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white - Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance, - A width, a shining peace, under the night. - - RUPERT BROOKE - - - 181 THE END - - After the blast of lightning from the east, - The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne; - After the drums of time have rolled and ceased, - And, from the bronze west, long retreat is blown-- - - Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth - All death will he annul, all tears assuage?-- - Or fill these void veins full again with youth, - And wash, with an immortal water, Age? - - When I do ask white Age, he saith, "Not so: - My head hangs weighed with snow." - And when I hearken to the Earth, she saith: - "My fiery heart sinks aching. It is death. - Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified. - Nor my titanic tears, the seas, be dried." - - WILFRED OWEN - - - 182 THE CROWNS - - Cherry and pear are white, - Their snows lie sprinkled on the land like light - On darkness shed. - Far off and near - The orchards toss their crowns of delight, - And the sun casts down - Another shining crown. - - The wind tears and throws down - Petal by petal the crown - Of cherry and pear till the earth is white, - And all the brightness is shed - In the orchards far off and near, - That tossed by the road and under the green hill; - And the wind is fled. - - Far, far off the wind - Has shaken down - A brightness that was as the brightness of cherry or pear - When the orchards shine in the sun. - --Oh there is no more fairness - Since this rareness, - The radiant blossom of English earth--is dead! - - JOHN FREEMAN - - - 183 CORONACH[91] - - He is gone on the mountain, - He is lost to the forest, - Like a summer-dried fountain, - When our need was the sorest. - The font, reappearing, - From the rain-drops shall borrow, - But to us comes no cheering, - To Duncan no morrow! - - The hand of the reaper - Takes the ears that are hoary, - But the voice of the weeper - Wails manhood in glory. - The autumn winds rushing - Waft the leaves that are serest, - But our flower was in flushing, - When blighting was nearest. - - Fleet foot on the correi,[92] - Sage counsel in cumber,[93] - Red hand in the foray, - How sound is thy slumber! - Like the dew on the mountain, - Like the foam on the river, - Like the bubble on the fountain, - Thou art gone, and for ever. - - SIR WALTER SCOTT - - - 184 THE CHILDREN'S BELLS - - Where are your Oranges? - Where are your Lemons? - What, are you silent now, - Bells of St. Clement's?[94] - You, of all bells that rang - Once in old London, - You, of all bells that sang, - Utterly undone? - You whom all children know - Ere they know letters, - Making Big Ben himself - Call you his betters? - Where are your lovely tones - Fruitful and mellow, - Full-flavoured orange-gold, - Clear lemon-yellow? - Ring again, sing again, - Bells of St. Clement's! - Call as you swing again, - "Oranges! Lemons!" - Fatherless children - Are listening near you-- - Sing for the children, - The fathers will hear you. - - ELEANOR FARJEON - - - 185 MEN WHO MARCH AWAY - - We be the King's men, hale and hearty, - Marching to meet one Buonaparty; - If he won't sail, lest the wind should blow, - We shall have marched for nothing, O! - Right fol-lol! - - We be the King's men, hale and hearty, - Marching to meet one Buonaparty; - If he be sea-sick, says "No, no!" - We shall have marched for nothing, O! - Right fol-lol! - - We be the king's men hale and hearty, - Marching to meet one Buonaparty; - Never mind, mates; we'll be merry, though - We may have marched for nothing, O! - Right fol-lol! - - THOMAS HARDY - - - - - 186 BUDMOUTH DEARS - - When we lay where Budmouth Beach is, - O, the girls were fresh as peaches, - With their tall and tossing figures and their eyes of blue and brown! - And our hearts would ache with longing - As we paced from our sing-songing, - With a smart _Clink! Clink!_ up the Esplanade and down. - - They distracted and delayed us - By the pleasant pranks they played us, - And what marvel, then, if troopers, even of regiments of renown, - On whom flashed those eyes divine, O, - Should forget the countersign, O, - As we tore _Clink! Clink!_ back to camp above the town. - - Do they miss us much, I wonder, - Now that war has swept us sunder, - And we roam from where the faces smile to where the faces frown? - And no more behold the features - Of the fair fantastic creatures, - And no more _Clink! Clink!_ past the parlours of the town? - - Shall we once again there meet them? - Falter fond attempts to greet them? - Will the gay sling-jacket glow again beside the muslin gown? - Will they archly quiz and con us - With a sideway glance upon us, - While our spurs Clink! Clink! up the Esplanade and down? - - THOMAS HARDY - - - 187 TRAFALGAR - - In the wild October night-time, when the wind raved round - the land, - And the Back-sea met the Front-sea, and our doors were - blocked with sand, - And we heard the drub of Dead-man's Bay, where bones of - thousands are, - We knew not what the day had done for us at Trafalgár. - (_All_) Had done, - Had done, - For us at Trafalgar! - - "Pull hard, and make the Nothe, or down we go!" one says, - says he. - We pulled; and bedtime brought the storm; but snug at - home slept we. - Yet all the while our gallants after fighting through the - day, - Were beating up and down the dark, sou'-west of Cadiz Bay. - The dark, - The dark, - Sou'-west of Cadiz Bay! - - The victors and the vanquished then the storm it tossed and - tore, - As hard they strove, those worn-out men, upon that surly - shore; - Dead Nelson and his half-dead crew, his foes from near and - far, - Were rolled together on the deep that night at Trafalgar! - The deep, - The deep, - That night at Trafalgar! - - THOMAS HARDY - - - 188 MESSMATES - - He gave us all a good-bye cheerily - At the first dawn of day; - We dropped him down the side full drearily - When the light died away. - It's a dead dark watch that he's a-keeping there, - And a long, long night that lags a-creeping there, - Where the Trades and the tides roll over him - And the great ships go by. - - He's there alone with green seas rocking him - For a thousand miles round; - He's there alone with dumb things mocking him, - And we're homeward bound. - It's a long, lone watch that he's a-keeping there, - And a dead cold night that lags a-creeping there, - While the months and the years roll over him - And the great ships go by. - - I wonder if the tramps come near enough - As they thrash to and fro, - And the battle-ships' bells ring clear enough - To be heard down below; - If through all the lone watch that he's a-keeping there, - And the long, cold night that lags a-creeping there, - The voices of the sailor-men shall comfort him - When the great ships go by. - - HENRY NEWBOLT - - - 189 SONG FOR ALL SEAS, ALL SHIPS - - To-day a rude brief recitative, - Of ships sailing the seas, each with its special flag or - ship-signal, - Of unnamed heroes in the ships--of waves spreading and - spreading far as the eye can reach, - Of dashing spray, and the winds piping and blowing, - And out of these a chant for the sailors of all nations, - Fitful, like a surge. - - Of sea-captains young or old, and the mates, and of all - intrepid sailors, - Of the few, very choice, taciturn, whom fate can never - surprise nor death dismay, - Picked sparingly without noise by thee, old ocean, chosen - by thee, - Thou sea that pickest and cullest the race in time, and - unitest nations, - Suckled by thee, old husky nurse, embodying thee, - Indomitable, untamed as thee.... - - Flaunt out, O sea, your separate flags of nations! - Flaunt out visible as ever the various ship-signals! - But do you reserve especially for yourself and for the soul - of man one flag above all the rest, - A spiritual woven signal for all nations, emblem of man elate - above death, - Token of all brave captains and all intrepid sailors and - mates, - And all that went down doing their duty, - Reminiscent of them, twined from all intrepid captains young - or old, - A pennant universal, subtly waving all time, o'er all, brave - sailors, - All seas, all ships. - - WALT WHITMAN - - - 190 HOHENLINDEN - - On Linden, when the sun was low, - All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; - And dark as winter was the flow - Of Iser, rolling rapidly. - - But Linden saw another sight, - When the drum beat at dead of night - Commanding fires of death to light - The darkness of her scenery. - - By torch and trumpet fast arrayed - Each horseman drew his battle-blade, - And furious every charger neighed - To join the dreadful revelry. - - Then shook the hills with thunder riven; - Then rushed the steed, to battle driven; - And louder than the bolts of Heaven - Far flashed the red artillery. - - But redder yet that light shall glow - On Linden's hills of stainèd snow; - And bloodier yet the torrent flow - Of Iser, rolling rapidly. - - 'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun - Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, - Where furious Frank and fiery Hun - Shout in their sulphurous canopy. - - The combat deepens. On, ye Brave, - Who rush to glory or the grave! - Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, - And charge with all thy chivalry! - - Few, few shall part, where many meet! - The snow shall be their winding-sheet, - And every turf beneath their feet - Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. - - THOMAS CAMPBELL - - - 191 HAME, HAME, HAME - - Hame, hame, hame, hame, fain wad I be: - O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie! - When the flower is in the bud, and the leaf is on the tree, - The lark shall sing me hame to my ain countrie. - Hame, hame, hame! O hame fain wad I be! - O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie! - - The green leaf o' loyalty's beginning now to fa'; - The bonnie white rose it is withering an' a'; - But we'll water it with the blude of usurping tyrannie, - And fresh it shall blaw in my ain countrie! - - O, there's nocht now frae ruin my countrie can save, - But the keys o' kind heaven, to open the grave, - That a' the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie - May rise again and fight for their ain countrie. - - The great now are gane, who attempted to save; - The green grass is growing abune their graves; - Yet the sun through the mirk seems to promise to me-- - I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countrie. - Hame, hame, hame, hame, fain wad I be; - O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie! - - ALLAN CUNNINGHAM - - - 192 DARK ROSALEEN - - O my dark Rosaleen, - Do not sigh, do not weep! - The priests are on the ocean green, - They march along the deep. - There's wine from the royal Pope - Upon the ocean green, - And Spanish ale shall give you hope, - My dark Rosaleen! - My own Rosaleen! - Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope, - Shall give you health, and help, and hope, - My dark Rosaleen! - - Over hills and through dales - Have I roamed for your sake; - All yesterday I sailed the sails - On river and on lake. - The Erne, at its highest flood, - I dashed across unseen, - For there was lightning in my blood, - My dark Rosaleen! - My own Rosaleen! - Oh! there was lightning in my blood, - Red lightning lightened through my blood, - My dark Rosaleen! - - All day long, in unrest, - To and fro do I move. - The very soul within my breast - Is wasted for you, love! - The heart in my bosom faints - To think of you, my Queen, - My life of life, my saint of saints, - My dark Rosaleen! - My own Rosaleen! - To hear your sweet and sad complaints, - My life, my love, my saint of saints, - My dark Rosaleen! - - Woe and pain, pain and woe, - Are my lot, night and noon, - To see your bright face clouded so, - Like to the mournful moon. - But yèt will I rear your throne - Again in golden sheen; - 'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone - My dark Rosaleen! - My own Rosaleen! - 'Tis you shall have the golden throne, - 'Tis you shall reign, and reign alone, - My dark Rosaleen! - - Over dews, over sands, - Will I fly for your weal: - Your holy delicate white hands - Shall girdle me with steel. - At home, in your emerald bowers, - From morning's dawn till e'en, - You'll pray for me, my flower of flowers, - My dark Rosaleen! - My fond Rosaleen! - You'll think of me through daylight hours, - My virgin flower, my flower of flowers, - My dark Rosaleen! - - I could scale the blue air, - I could plough the high hills, - Oh, I could kneel all night in prayer, - To heal your many ills! - And one beamy smile from you - Would float like light between - My toils and me, my own, my true, - My dark Rosaleen! - My fond Rosaleen! - Would give me life and soul anew, - A second life, a soul anew, - My dark Rosaleen! - - Oh! the Erne shall run red - With redundance of blood, - The earth shall rock beneath our tread, - And flames wrap hill and wood, - And gun-peal and slogan-cry - Wake many a glen serene, - Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die, - My dark Rosaleen! - My own Rosaleen! - The Judgment Hour must first be nigh, - Ere you shall fade, ere you can die, - My dark Rosaleen! - - JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN - - - 193 MY LUVE'S IN GERMANY - - "My Luve's in Germany; - Send him hame, send him hame; - My Luve's in Germany, - Send him hame: - My Luve's in Germany, - Fighting for Royalty; - He may ne'er his Jeanie see; - Send him hame, send him hame; - He may ne'er his Jeanie see, - Send him hame. - - "He's brave as brave can be, - Send him hame, send him hame; - He's brave as brave can be, - Send him hame. - He's brave as brave can be, - He wad rather fa' than flee; - But his life is dear to me, - Send him hame, send him hame; - Oh! his life is dear to me, - Send him hame. - - "Our faes are ten to three, - Send him hame, send him hame; - Our faes are ten to three, - Send him hame. - Our faes are ten to three, - He maun either fa' or flee, - In the cause o' Loyalty; - Send him hame, send him hame; - In the cause o' Loyalty, - Send him hame." - - "Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, - Bonnie Dame, winsome Dame; - Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, - Winsome Dame. - Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, - But he fell in Germany, - Fighting brave for Loyalty, - Mournfu' Dame, bonnie Dame, - Fighting brave for Loyalty, - Mournfu' Dame!" - - "He'll ne'er come owre the sea, - Willie's slain, Willie's slain; - He'll ne'er come owre the sea, - Willie's gane! - He'll ne'er come owre the sea, - To his Love and ain Countrie-- - This warld's nae mair for me, - Willie's gane, Willie's gane! - This warld's nae mair for me - Willie's slain!" - - - 194 A WEARY LOT IS THINE - - "A weary lot is thine, fair maid, - A weary lot is thine! - To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, - And press the rue for wine. - A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, - A feather of the blue, - A doubtlet of the Lincoln green-- - No more of me you knew, - My love! - No more of me you knew. - - "This morn is merry June, I trow, - The rose is budding fain; - But she shall bloom in winter snow - Ere we two meet again." - He turned his charger as he spake - Upon the river shore, - He gave the bridle-reins a shake, - Said, "Adieu for evermore, - My love! - And adieu for evermore." - - SIR WALTER SCOTT - - - 195 CHARLIE HE'S MY DARLING - - An' Charlie he's my darling, - My darling, my darling! - Charlie he's my darling, - The young Chevalier! - - 'Twas on a Monday morning, - Right early in the year, - That Charlie cam' to our town, - The young Chevalier! - - As he was walking up the street, - The city for to view, - O, there he spied a bonnie lass - The window lookin' through. - - Sae light's he jimpèd up the stair, - An' tirlèd at the pin; - An' wha sae ready as hersel - To let the laddie in? - - He set Jenny on his knee, - A' in his Highland dress; - For brawlie weel he kenned the way - To please a lassie best. - - It's up yon heathery mountain, - An' down yon scroggy glen, - We daur na gang a-milking - For Charlie an' his men! - - An' Charlie he's my darling, - My darling, my darling! - Charlie he's my darling, - The young Chevalier! - - - 196 THE FAREWELL - - It was a' for our rightfu' king - We left fair Scotland's strand; - It was a' for our rightfu' king - We e'er saw Irish land, - My dear, - We e'er saw Irish land. - - Now a' is done that man can do, - And a' is done in vain; - My love, and native land, farewell, - For I maun cross the main, - My dear, - For I maun cross the main. - - He turned him right and round about - Upon the Irish shore; - And gae his bridle-reins a shake, - With Adieu for evermore, - My dear, - Adieu for evermore. - - The sodger frae the wars returns, - The sailor frae the main; - But I hae parted frae my love, - Never to meet again, - My dear, - Never to meet again. - - When day is gane, and night is come, - And a' folks bound to sleep; - I think on him that's far awa', - The lee-lang night, and weep, - My dear, - The lee-lang night, and weep. - - ROBERT BURNS - - - 197 THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST - - I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking, - Lasses a-lilting before the dawn of day; - But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning:-- - The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. - - At bughts in the morning nae blythe lads are scorning; - The lasses are lanely, and dowie, and wae; - Nae daffing, nae gabbing, but sighing and sabbing, - Ilk ane lifts her leglin, and hies her away. - - In hairst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering: - The bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray. - At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching-- - The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. - - At e'en, in the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming - 'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play; - But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie-- - The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. - - Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border! - The English, for ance, be guile wan the day; - The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost, - The prime of our land, lie cauld in the clay. - - We'll hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking; - Women and bairns are heartless and wae; - Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning: - The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. - - JEAN ELLIOT - - - 198 "AS I WAS GOING" - - As I was going by Charing Cross, - I saw a black man upon a black horse; - They told me it was King Charles the First; - Oh dear, my heart was ready to burst! - - - 199 OF THE GREAT AND FAMOUS - - EVER TO BE HONOURED KNIGHT, SIR FRANCIS DRAKE, AND OF MY - LITTLE-LITTLE SELFE. - - The Dragon that our Seas did raise his Crest - And brought back heapes of gold unto his nest, - Unto his Foes more terrible than Thunder, - Glory of his age, After-ages' wonder, - Excelling all those that excelled before; - It's feared we shall have none such any more; - Effecting all he sole did undertake, - Valiant, just, wise, milde, honest, Godly _Drake_. - This man when I was little I did meete - As he was walking up Totnes' long street. - He asked me whose I was? I answered him. - He asked me if his good friend were within? - A faire red Orange in his hand he had, - He gave it me whereof I was right glad, - Takes and kist me, and prayes _God blesse my boy_: - Which I record _with comfort_ to this day. - Could he on me have breathèd with his breath, - His gifts, Elias-like, after his death, - Then had I beene enabled for to doe - Many brave things I have a heart unto. - I have as great desire as e're had _hee_ - To joy, annoy, friends, foes; but 'twill not be. - - ROBERT HAYMAN - - - 200 A LAMENTATION - - All looks be pale, hearts cold as stone, - For Hally now is dead and gone. - Hally in whose sight, - Most sweet sight, - All the earth late took delight. - Every eye, weep with me, - Joys drowned in tears must be. - - His ivory skin, his comely hair, - His rosy checks so clear and fair, - Eyes that once did grace - His bright face, - Now in him all want their place. - Eyes and hearts, weep with me, - For who so kind as he? - - His youth was like an April flower, - Adorned with beauty, love, and power. - Glory strewed his way, - Whose wreaths gay - Now are all turnèd to decay. - Then, again, weep with me, - None feel more cause than we. - - No more may his wished sight return. - His golden lamp no more can burn. - Quenched is all his flame, - His hoped fame - Now hath left him nought but name. - For him all weep with me, - Since more him none shall see. - - THOMAS CAMPION - - - 201 WHAT IF SOME LITTLE PAIN THE PASSAGE HAVE - - ... What if some little paine the passage have, - That makes fraile flesh to feare the bitter wave? - Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease, - And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave? - Sleep after toyle, port after stormie seas, - Ease after warre, death after live does greatly please.... - - EDMUND SPENSER - - - 202 HENRY BEFORE AGINCOURT: OCTOBER 25, 1415 - - ... Our King went up upon a hill high - And looked down to the valleys low: - He saw where the Frenchmen came hastily - As thick as ever did hail or snow. - Then kneeled our King down, in that stound,[95] - And all his men on every side: - Every man made a cross and kissed the ground, - And on their feet fast gan abide. - Our King said, "Sirs, what time of the day?" - "My Liege," they said, "it is nigh Prime." - "Then go we to our journey, - By the grace of JESU, it is good time: - For saints that lie in their shrine - To GOD for us be praying. - All the Religious of England, in this time, - _Ora pro nobis_ for us they sing." - ST. GEORGE was seen over the host: - Of very truth this sight men did see. - Down was he sent by the HOLY GHOST, - To give our King the victory.... - - JOHN LYDGATE - - - 203 ALEXANDER THE GREAT - - Four men stood by the grave of a man, - The grave of Alexander the Proud: - They sang words without falsehood - Over the prince from fair Greece. - - Said the first man of them: - "Yesterday there were around the king - The men of the world--a sad gathering! - Though to-day he is alone." - - "Yesterday the king of the brown world - Rode upon the heavy earth: - Though to-day it is the earth - That rides upon his neck." - - "Yesterday," said the third wise author, - "Philip's son owned the whole world: - To-day he has nought - Save seven feet of earth." - - "Alexander the liberal and great - Was wont to bestow silver and gold: - To-day," said the fourth man, - "The gold is here, and it is nought." - - Thus truly spoke the wise men - Around the grave of the high-king: - It was not foolish women's talk - What those four sang. - - - 204 THE MYRTLE BUSH GREW SHADY - - "The myrtle bush grew shady - Down by the ford."-- - "Is it even so?" said my lady. - "Even so!" said my lord. - "The leaves are set too thick together - For the point of a sword." - - "The arras in your room hangs close, - No light between! - You wedded one of those - That see unseen."-- - "Is it even so?" said the King's Majesty. - "Even so!" said the Queen. - - MARY COLERIDGE - - - 205 THE FORT OF RATHANGAN - - The fort over against the oak-wood, - Once it was Bruidge's, it was Cathal's, - It was Aed's, it was Ailill's, - It was Conaing's, it was Cuiline's, - And it was Maelduin's; - The fort remains after each in his turn-- - And the kings asleep in the ground. - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - DANCE, - - MUSIC AND BELLS. - - - 206 A PIPER - - A piper in the streets to-day - Set up, and tuned, and started to play, - And away, away, away on the tide - Of his music we started; on every side - Doors and windows were opened wide, - And men left down their work and came, - And women with petticoats coloured like flame. - And little bare feet that were blue with cold, - Went dancing back to the age of gold, - And all the world went gay, went gay, - For half an hour in the street to-day. - - SEUMAS O'SULLIVAN - - - 207 THE LITTLE DANCERS - - Lonely, save for a few faint stars, the sky - Dreams; and lonely, below, the little street - Into its gloom retires, secluded and shy. - Scarcely the dumb roar enters this soft retreat; - And all is dark, save where come flooding rays - From a tavern window: there, to the brisk measure - Of an organ that down in an alley merrily plays, - Two children, all alone and no one by, - Holding their tattered frocks, through an airy maze - Of motion, lightly threaded with nimble feet, - Dance sedately: face to face they gaze, - Their eyes shining, grave with a perfect pleasure. - - LAURENCE BINYON - - - 208 TWO NUT TREES - - - i - - I had a little nut tree, - Nothing would it bear, - But a silver nutmeg, - And a golden pear. - The King of Spain's daughter - Came to visit me, - And all was because of - My little nut tree. - I skipped over water - I danced over sea, - And all the birds in the air - Could not catch me. - - THOMAS ANON - - - ii - - The King of China's daughter - So beautiful to see - With her face like yellow water, left - Her nutmeg tree. - Her little rope for skipping - She kissed and gave it me-- - Made of painted notes of singing-birds - Among the fields of tea. - I skipped across the nutmeg grove,-- - I skipped across the sea; - But neither sun nor moon, my dear, - Has yet caught me. - - EDITH SITWELL - - - 209 WHEN THE GREEN WOODS LAUGH - - When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, - And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; - When the air does laugh with our merry wit, - And the green hill laughs with the noise of it; - - When the meadows laugh with lively green, - And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene, - When Mary and Susan and Emily - With their sweet round mouths sing "Ha, Ha, He!" - - When the painted birds laugh in the shade, - Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread, - Come live, and be merry, and join with me, - To sing the sweet chorus of "Ha, Ha, He!" - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 210 FA LA LA - - My mistress frowns when she should play; - I'll please her with a _Fa la la_. - Sometimes she chides, but I straightway - Present her with a _Fa la la_. - - You lovers that have loves astray - May win them with a _Fa la la_. - Quick music's best, for still they say - None pleaseth like your _Fa la la_. - - - 211 IT WAS A LOVER - - It was a Lover, and his lasse, - _With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino_, - That ore the greene corne-field did passe, - In spring time, the onely pretty ring time, - When Birds do sing, _hey ding a ding, ding_: - Sweet Lovers love the spring. - - Between the acres of the Rie, - _With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino_, - These prettie Country folks would lie, - In spring time, the onely pretty ring time, - When Birds do sing, _hey ding a ding, ding_: - Sweet Lovers love the spring. - - This Carroll they began that houre, - _With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino_, - How that a life was but a Flower, - In spring time, the only pretty ring time, - When Birds do sing, _hey ding a ding, ding_: - Sweet Lovers love the spring. - - And therefore take the present time, - _With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino_; - For love is crownèd with the prime - In spring time, the only pretty ring time, - When birds do sing, _hey ding a ding, ding_: - Sweet lovers love the spring. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 212 HEY, NONNY NO! - - _Hey, nonny no!_ - Men are fools that wish to die! - Is't not fine to dance and sing - When the bells of death do ring? - Is't not fine to swim in wine, - And turn upon the toe, - And sing _Hey nonny no!_ - - When the winds blow and the seas flow? - _Hey, nonny no!_ - - - 213 TARANTELLA - - Do you remember an Inn, - Miranda? - Do you remember an Inn? - And the tedding and the spreading - Of the straw for a bedding, - And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees, - And the wine that tasted of the tar? - And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers - (Under the dark of the vine verandah)? - - Do you remember an Inn, Miranda, - Do you remember an Inn? - And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers - Who hadn't got a penny, - And who weren't paying any, - And the hammer at the doors and the Din? - And the Hip! Hop! Hap! - Of the clap - Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl - Of the girl gone chancing, - Glancing, - Dancing, - Backing and advancing, - Snapping of the clapper to the spin - Out and in-- - And the Ting, Tong, Tang of the guitar! - Do you remember an Inn, - Miranda? - Do you remember an Inn? - - Never more; - Miranda, - Never more. - Only the high peaks hoar: - And Aragon a torrent at the door. - No sound - In the walls of the Halls where falls - The tread - Of the feet of the dead to the ground. - No sound: - Only the boom - Of the far Waterfall like Doom. - - HILAIRE BELLOC - - - 214 "I LOVED A LASS" - - I loved a lass, a fair one, - As fair as e'er was seen; - She was indeed a rare one, - Another Sheba Queen: - But, fool as then I was, - I thought she loved me too: - But now, alas! she has left me, - _Falero, lero, loo!..._ - - And as abroad we walkèd - As lovers' fashion is, - Oft as we sweetly talkèd - The sun would steal a kiss. - The wind upon her lips - Likewise most sweetly blew; - But now, alas! she has left me - _Falero, lero, loo!_ - - Many a merry meeting - My love and I have had; - She was my only sweeting, - She made my heart full glad; - The tears stood in her eyes - Like to the morning dew: - But now, alas! she has left me, - _Falero, lero, loo!_ - - Her cheeks were like the cherry, - Her skin was white as snow; - When she was blithe and merry - She angel-like did show; - Her waist exceeding small, - The fives did fit her shoe: - But now, alas! she has left me, - _Falero, lero, loo!_ - - In summer time or winter - She had her heart's desire; - I still did scorn to stint her - From sugar, sack, or fire; - The world went round about, - No cares we ever knew: - But now, alas! she has left me, - _Falero, lero, loo!..._ - - No riches now can raise me, - No want make me despair; - No misery amaze me, - Nor yet for want I care. - I have lost a world itself, - My earthly heaven, adieu, - Since she, alas! hath left me, - _Falero, lero, loo...._ - - GEORGE WITHER - - - 215 GREEN GRASS - - _A dis, a dis, a green grass,_ - _A dis, a dis, a dis_; - Come all you pretty fair maids - And dance along with us. - - For we are going roving, - A roving in this land; - We take this pretty fair maid, - We take her by the hand. - - She shall get a duke, my dear, - As duck do get a drake; - And she shall have a young prince, - For her own fair sake. - - And if this young prince chance to die, - She shall get another; - The bells will ring, and the birds will sing, - And we clap hands together. - - - 216 THE LINCOLNSHIRE POACHER - - When I was bound apprentice in famous Lincolnshire, - Full well I served my master for more than seven year, - Till I took up to poaching--as you shall quickly hear: - Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night - In the season of the year! - - As mé and my cómrade were setting of a snare, - Twas then we spied the gamekeeper, for him we did not care, - For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump o'er anywhere: - Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night - In the season of the year! - - As me and my comrade were setting four or five, - And taking on 'em up again we caught a hare alive, - We took the hare alive, my boys, and through the woods did steer: - Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night - In the season of the year! - - I threw him on my shoulder, and then we trudged home, - We took him to a neighbour's house and sold him for a crown - We sold him for a crown, my boys, but I did not tell you where: - Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night - In the season of the year! - - Success to every gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire, - Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare, - Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer:[96] - Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night - In the season of the year! - - - 217 THE MEN OF GOTHAM - - Seamen three! What men be ye? - Gotham's three wise men we be. - Whither in your bowl so free? - To rake the moon from out the sea. - The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine. - And our ballast is old wine-- - _And your ballast is old wine_. - - Who art thóu, so fast adrift? - I am he they call Old Care. - Here on board we will thee lift. - No: I may not enter there. - Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree, - In a bowl Care may not be-- - _In a bowl Care may not be_. - - Fear ye not the waves that roll? - No; in charmèd bowl we swim. - What the charm that floats the bowl? - Water may not pass the brim. - The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine. - And our ballast is old wine-- - _And your ballast is old wine_. - - THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK - - - 218 EARLY MORNING MEADOW SONG - - Now some may drink old vintage wine - To ladies gowned with rustling silk, - But we will drink to dairymaids, - And drink to them in rum and milk-- - O, it's up in the morning early, - When the dew is on the grass, - And St. John's bell rings for matins, - And St. Mary's rings for mass! - - The merry skylarks soar and sing, - And seem to Heaven very near-- - Who knows what blessed inns they see, - What holy drinking songs they hear? - O, it's up in the morning early, - When the dew is on the grass, - And St. John's bell rings for matins, - And St. Mary's rings for mass! - - The mushrooms may be priceless pearls - A queen has lost beside the stream; - But rum is melted rubies when - It turns the milk to golden cream! - O, it's up in the morning early, - When the dew is on the grass, - And St. John's bell rings for matins, - And St. Mary's rings for mass! - - CHARLES DALMON - - - 219 DABBLING IN THE DEW - - Oh, where are you going to, my pretty little dear, - With your red rosy cheeks and your coal-black hair? - I'm going a-milking, kind sir, she answered me: - And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair! - - Suppose I were to clothe you, my pretty little dear, - In a green silken gown and the amethyst rare? - O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me, - For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair! - - Suppose I were to carry you, my pretty little dear, - In a chariot with horses, a grey gallant pair? - O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me, - For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair! - - Suppose I were to feast you, my pretty little dear, - With dainties on silver, the whole of the year? - O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me, - For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair! - - O but London's a city, my pretty little dear, - And all men are gallant and brave that are there-- - O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me, - For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair! - - O fine clothes and dainties and carriages so rare - Bring grey to the cheeks and silver to the hair; - What's a ring on the finger if rings are round the eye? - But it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair! - - - 220 BONNY LASSIE O! - - O the evening's for the fair, bonny lassie O! - To meet the cooler air and walk an angel there, - With the dark dishevelled hair, - Bonny lassie O! - - The bloom's on the brere, bonny lassie O! - Oak apples on the tree; and wilt thou gang to see - The shed I've made for thee, - Bonny lassie O! - - 'Tis agen the running brook, bonny lassie O! - In a grassy nook hard by, with a little patch of sky, - And a bush to keep us dry, - Bonny lassie O! - - There's the daisy all the year, bonny lassie O! - There's the king-cup bright as gold, and the speedwell never cold, - And the arum leaves unrolled, - Bonny lassie O! - - O meet me at the shed, bonny lassie O! - With the woodbine peeping in, and the roses like thy skin - Blushing, thy praise to win, - Bonny lassie O! - - I will meet thee there at e'en, bonny lassie O! - When the bee sips in the bean, and grey willow branches lean, - And the moonbeam looks between, - Bonny lassie O! - - JOHN CLARE - - - 221 THE MAD MAID'S SONG - - Good-morrow to the Day so fair, - Good-morning, Sir, to you: - Good-morrow to mine own torn hair, - Bedabbled with the dew. - - Good-morning to this Prim-rose too, - Good-morrow to each maid, - That will with flowers the Tomb bestrew - Wherein my Love is laid. - - Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me, - Alack and welladay! - For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee - Which bore my Love away. - - Ile seek him in your Bonnet brave, - Ile seek him in your eyes; - Nay, now, I think they've made his grave - I' the bed of strawburies. - - Ile seek him there; I know, ere this, - The cold, cold Earth doth shake him; - But I will go, or send a kiss - By you, Sir, to awake him. - - Pray hurt him not, though he be dead, - He knowes well who do love him, - And who with green-turfes reare his head, - And who do rudely move him. - - He's soft and tender (Pray take heed); - With bands of Cowslips bind him, - And bring him home--but 't is decreed - That I shall never find him. - - ROBERT HERRICK - - - 222 TELL ME WHERE IS FANCIE BRED - - Tell me where is Fancie bred, - Or in the heart or in the head? - How begot, how nourishèd? - Replie, replie! - It is engendered in the eyes, - With gazing fed; and Fancie dies - In the cradle where it lies. - Let us all ring Fancie's knell: - Ile begin it: - _Ding, dong, bell._ - _All._ _Ding, dong, bell._ - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 223 MUSIC - - Music, when soft voices die, - Vibrates in the memory-- - Odours, when sweet violets sicken, - Live within the sense they quicken. - Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, - Are heaped for the belovèd's bed; - And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, - Love itself shall slumber on. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 224 THE BELLS OF SHANDON - - With deep affection and recollection - I often think of the Shandon bells, - Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood, - Fling around my cradle their magic spells. - On this I ponder where'er I wander, - And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee; - With thy bells of Shandon, - That sound so grand on - The pleasant waters of the river Lee. - - I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in, - Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine, - While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate; - But all their music spoke naught to thine; - For memory, dwelling on each proud swelling - Of thy belfry, knelling its bold notes free, - Made the bells of Shandon - Sound more grand on - The pleasant waters of the river Lee. - - I've heard bells tolling old "Adrian's Mole" in, - Their thunder rolling from the Vatican, - And cymbals glorious, swinging uproarious - In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame; - But thy sounds were sweeter than the dome of Peter - Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly. - O! the bells of Shandon - Sound far more grand on - The pleasant waters of the river Lee. - - There's a bell in Moscow; while on Tower and Kiosk, O! - In St. Sophia the Turkman gets, - And loud in air, calls men to prayer, - From the tapering summit of tall minarets. - Such empty phantom I freely grant them; - But there is an anthem more dear to me,-- - 'Tis the bells of Shandon, - That sound so grand on - The pleasant waters of the river Lee. - - FRANCIS MAHONY (FATHER PROUT) - - - 225 UPON A RING OF BELLS - - Bells have wide mouths and tongues, but are too weak, - Have they not help, to sing, or talk or speak. - But if you move them they will mak't appear, - By speaking they'll make all the Town to hear. - When Ringers handle them with Art and Skill, - They then the ears of their Observers fill, - With such brave Notes, they ting and tang so well - As to out strip all with their ding, dong, Bell. - - - _Comparison_ - - These Bells are like the Powers of my Soul; - Their Clappers to the Passions of my mind; - The Ropes by which my Bells are made to tole, - Are Promises (I by experience find.) - My body is the Staple where they hang, - My graces they which do ring ev'ry Bell: - Nor is there any thing gives such a tang, - When by these Ropes these Ringers ring them well. - Let not my Bells these Ringers want, nor Ropes; - Yea let them have room for to swing and sway: - To toss themselves deny them not their Scopes. - Lord! in my Steeple give them room to play. - If they do tole, ring out, or chime all in, - They drown the tempting tinckling Voice of Vice: - Lord! when my Bells have gone, my Soul has bin - As 'twere a tumbling in this Paradice! - Or if these Ringers do the Changes ring, - Upon my Bells, they do such Musick make, - My Soul then (Lord) cannot but bounce and sing, - So greatly her they with their Musick take. - But Boys (my Lusts) into my Belfry go, - And pull these Ropes, but do no Musick make - They rather turn my Bells by what they do, - Or by disorder make my Steeple shake. - Then, Lord! I pray thee keep my Belfry Key, - Let none but Graces meddle with these Ropes: - And when these naughty Boys come, say them Nay. - From such Ringers of Musick there's no hopes. - O Lord! If thy poor Child might have his will, - And might his meaning freely to thee tell; - He never of this Musick has his fill, - There's nothing to him like thy ding, dong, Bell. - - JOHN BUNYAN - - - 226 THE BELFRY - - Dark is the stair, and humid the old walls - Wherein it winds, on worn stones, up the tower. - Only by loophole chinks at intervals - Pierces the late glow of this August hour. - - Two truant children climb the stairway dark, - With joined hands, half in glee and half in fear, - The boy mounts brisk, the girl hangs back to hark - If the gruff sexton their light footsteps hear. - - Dazzled at last they gain the belfry-room. - Barred rays through shutters hover across the floor - Dancing in dust; so fresh they come from gloom - That breathless they pause wondering at the door. - - How hushed it is! what smell of timbers old - From cobwebbed beams! The warm light here and there - Edging a darkness, sleeps in pools of gold, - Or weaves fantastic shadows through the air. - - How motionless the huge bell! Straight and stiff, - Ropes through the floor rise to the rafters dim. - The shadowy round of metal hangs, as if - No force could ever lift its gleamy rim. - - A child's awe, a child's wonder, who shall trace - What dumb thoughts on its waxen softness write - In such a spell-brimmed, time-forgotten place, - Bright in that strangeness of approaching night? - - As these two gaze, their fingers tighter press; - For suddenly the slow bell upward heaves - Its vast mouth, the cords quiver at the stress, - And ere the heart prepare, the ear receives - - Full on its delicate sense the plangent stroke - Of violent, iron, reverberating sound. - As if the tower in all its stones awoke, - Deep echoes tremble, again in clangour drowned, - - That starts without a whir of frighted wings - And holds these young hearts shaken, hushed, and thrilled, - Like frail reeds in a rushing stream, like strings - Of music, or like trees with tempest filled, - - And rolls in wide waves out o'er the lone land, - Tone following tone toward the far-setting sun, - Till where in fields long shadowed reapers stand - Bowed heads look up, and lo, the day is done.... - - LAURENCE BINYON - - - 227 IL PENSEROSO - - ... Sweet bird that shunn'st the noise of folly, - Most musicall, most melancholy! - Thee chauntress of the Woods among - I woo to hear thy eeven-song; - And missing thee, I walk unseen - On the dry smooth-shaven green, - To behold the wandering moon - Riding near her highest noon, - Like one that had been led astray - Through the Heaven's wide pathles way, - And oft, as if her head she bowed, - Stooping through a fleecy cloud. - - Oft on a Plat of rising ground, - I hear the far-off _Curfeu_ sound - Over some wide-watered shoar, - Swinging slow with sullen roar: - Or if the Ayr will not permit, - Som still removèd place will fit, - Where glowing Embers through the room - Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, - Far from all resort of mirth, - Save the Cricket on the hearth, - Or the Belman's drousie charm - To bless the dores from nightly harm.... - - JOHN MILTON - - - 228 CHIMES - - Brief, on a flying night, - From the shaken tower, - A flock of bells take flight, - And go with the hour. - - Like birds from the cote to the gales, - Abrupt--O hark! - A fleet of bells set sails, - And go to the dark. - - Sudden the cold airs swing, - Alone, aloud, - A verse of bells takes wing - And flies with the cloud. - - ALICE MEYNELL - - - 229 CITIES DROWNED - - Cities drowned in olden time - Keep, they say, a magic chime - Rolling up from far below - When the moon-led waters flow. - - So within me, ocean deep, - Lies a sunken world asleep. - Lest its bells forget to ring, - Memory! set the tide a-swing! - - HENRY NEWBOLT - - - 230 THE BELL-MAN - - From noise of Scare-fires rest ye free, - From Murders--_Benedicite_. - From all mischances, that may fright - Your pleasing slumbers in the night: - Mercie secure ye all, and keep - The Goblin from ye, while ye sleep. - Past one aclock, and almost two, - My Masters all, _Good day to you_! - - ROBERT HERRICK - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - AUTUMN LEAVES: WINTER SNOW. - - - 231 TO MEADOWS - - Ye have been fresh and green, - Ye have been filled with flowers: - And ye the Walks have been - Where Maids have spent their houres. - - You have beheld, how they - With _Wicker Arks_ did come - To kisse, and beare away - The richer Couslips home. - - Ye have heard them sweetly sing - And seen them in a Round: - Each Virgin, like a Spring, - With Hony-succles crowned. - - But now, we see, none here, - Whose silverie feet did tread, - And with dishevelled Haire, - Adorned this smoother Mead. - - Like Unthrifts, having spent, - Your stock, and needy grown, - Ye are left here to lament - Your poore estates, alone. - - ROBERT HERRICK - - - 232 THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT - - The days are cold, the nights are long, - The North wind sings a doleful song; - Then hush again upon my breast; - All merry things are now at rest, - Save thee, my pretty love! - - The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, - The crickets long have ceased their mirth; - There's nothing stirring in the house - Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse, - Then why so busy thou? - Nay! start not at the sparkling light; - 'Tis but the moon that shines so bright - On the window-pane - Bedropped with rain: - Then, little darling! sleep again, - And wake when it is day. - - DOROTHY WORDSWORTH - - - 233 TO AUTUMN - - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, - Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; - Conspiring with him how to load and bless - With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; - To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees, - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; - To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells - With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, - And still more, later flowers for the bees, - Until they think warm days will never cease, - For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells-- - - Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? - Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find - Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; - Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, - Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook - Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers: - And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep - Steady thy laden head across a brook; - Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, - Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. - - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? - Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-- - While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, - And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; - Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn - Among the river-sallows, borne aloft - Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; - And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; - Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft - The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; - And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. - - JOHN KEATS - - - 234 THE SOLITARY REAPER - - Behold her, single in the field, - Yon solitary Highland Lass! - Reaping and singing by herself; - Stop here, or gently pass! - Alone she cuts and binds the grain, - And sings a melancholy strain; - O listen! for the vale profound - Is overflowing with the sound. - - No nightingale did ever chaunt - More welcome notes to weary bands - Of travellers in some shady haunt, - Among Arabian sands: - A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard - In spring-time from the cuckoo bird. - Breaking the silence of the seas - Among the farthest Hebrides. - - Will no one tell me what she sings?-- - Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow - For old, unhappy, far-off things, - And battles long ago; - Or is it some more humble lay, - Familiar matter of to-day? - Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, - That has been, and may be again? - - Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang - As if her song could have no ending; - I saw her singing at her work, - And o'er the sickle bending;-- - I listened, motionless and still; - And, as I mounted up the hill, - The music in my heart I bore - Long after it was heard no more. - - WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - - - 235 "THE HEAVING ROSES OF THE HEDGE ARE STIRRED" - - The heaving roses of the hedge are stirred - By the sweet breath of summer, and the bird - Makes from within his jocund voice be heard. - - The winds that kiss the roses sweep the sea - Of uncut grass, whose billows rolling free - Half drown the hedges which part lea from lea. - - But soon shall look the wondering roses down - Upon an empty field cut close and brown, - That lifts no more its height against their own. - - And in a little while those roses bright, - Leaf after leaf, shall flutter from their height, - And on the reapèd fields lie pink and white. - - And yet again the bird that sings so high - Shall ask the snow for alms with piteous cry; - Take fright in his bewildering bower, and die. - - CANON DIXON - - - 236 AUTUMN - - A DIRGE - - The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, - The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying; - And the year - On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, - Is lying. - Come, months, come away, - From November to May, - In your saddest array; - Follow the bier - Of the dead cold year, - And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre. - - The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling, - The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling - For the year; - The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone - To his dwelling. - Come, months, come away; - Put on white, black, and grey; - Let your light sisters play-- - Ye, follow the bier - Of the dead cold year, - And make her grave green with tear on tear. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 237 "WHEN THAT I WAS AND A LITTLE TINY BOY" - - When that I was and a little tinie boy, - _With hey, ho, the winde and the raine_: - A foolish thing was but a toy, - _For the raine it raineth every day_. - - But when I came to man's estate, - _With hey, ho, the winde and the raine_: - 'Gainst Knaves and Theeves men shut their gate, - _For the raine it raineth every day_. - - But when I came, alas, to wive, - _With hey, ho, the winde and the raine_: - By swaggering could I never thrive, - _For the raine it raineth every day_. - - But when I came unto my beds, - _With hey, ho, the wind and the raine_, - With tos-pottes still had drunken heades,-- - _For the raine it raineth every day_. - - A great while ago the world begon, - _With hey, ho, the winde and the raine_, - But that's all one, our Play is done, - _And we'll strive to please you every day_. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 238 SONG - - The feathers of the willow - Are half of them grown yellow - Above the swelling stream; - And ragged are the bushes, - And rusty are the rushes - And wild the clouded gleam. - - The thistle now is older, - His stalk begins to moulder, - His head is white as snow; - The branches all are barer, - The linnet's song is rarer - The robin pipeth now. - - CANON DIXON - - - 239 FALL, LEAVES, FALL - - Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; - Lengthen night and shorten day; - Every leaf speaks bliss to me, - Fluttering from the autumn tree. - - I shall smile when wreaths of snow - Blossom where the rose should grow; - I shall sing when night's decay - Ushers in a drearier day. - - EMILY BRONTË - - - 240 THE SANDS OF DEE - - "O Mary, go and call the cattle home, - And call the cattle home, - And call the cattle home - Across the sands of Dee;" - The western wind was wild and dank with foam, - And all alone went she. - - The western tide crept up along the sand, - And o'er and o'er the sand, - And round and round the sand, - As far as eye could see. - The rolling mist came down and hid the land: - And never home came she. - - "Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair-- - A tress of golden hair, - A drownèd maiden's hair - Above the nets at sea? - Was never salmon yet that shone so fair - Among the stakes on Dee." - - They rowed her in across the rolling foam, - The cruel crawling foam, - The cruel hungry foam, - To her grave beside the sea: - But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home - Across the sands of Dee. - - CHARLES KINGSLEY - - - 241 BREAK, BREAK, BREAK - - Break, break, break, - On thy cold grey stones, O Sea! - And I would that my tongue could utter - The thoughts that arise in me. - - O well for the fisherman's boy, - That he shouts with his sister at play! - O well for the sailor lad, - That he sings in his boat on the bay! - - And the stately ships go on - To their haven under the hill; - But O for the touch of a vanished hand, - And the sound of a voice that is still! - - Break, break, break, - At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! - But the tender grace of a day that is dead - Will never come back to me. - - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON - - - 242 ODE TO THE WEST WIND - - - I - - O, wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, - Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead - Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, - - Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, - Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O, thou, - Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed - - The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low, - Each like a corpse within its grave, until - Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow - - Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill - (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) - With living hues and odours plain and hill: - - Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; - Destroyer and preserver; hear, O hear! - - - II - - Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion, - Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, - Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, - - Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread - On the blue surface of thine airy surge, - Like the bright hair uplifted from the head - - Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge - Of the horizon to the zenith's height - The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge - - Of the dying year, to which this closing night - Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, - Vaulted with all thy congregated might - - Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere - Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: O hear! - - - III - - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams - The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, - Lulled by the coil of his crystà lline streams, - - Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, - And saw in sleep old palaces and towers - Quivering within the wave's intenser day, - - All overgrown with azure moss and flowers - So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou - For whose path the Atlantic's level powers - - Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below - The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear - The sapless foliage of the ocean, know - - Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, - And tremble and despoil themselves: O hear! - - - IV - - If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; - If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; - A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share - - The impulse of thy strength, only less free - Than thou, O, uncontrollable! If even - I were as in my boyhood, and could be - - The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven, - As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed - Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven - - As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. - Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! - I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! - - A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed - One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. - - - V - - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: - What if my leaves are falling like its own! - The tumult of thy mighty harmonies - - Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, - Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce, - My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! - - Drive my dead thoughts over the universe - Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! - And, by the incantation of this verse, - - Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth - Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! - Be through my lips to unawakened earth - - The trumpet of a prophecy! O, wind, - If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 243 THAT WIND - - That wind, I used to hear it swelling; - With joy divinely deep; - You might have seen my hot tears welling, - But rapture made me weep. - - I used to love on winter nights - To lie and dream alone - Of all the rare and real delights - My lonely years had known; - - And oh!--above the best--of those - That coming time should bear, - Like heaven's own glorious stars they rose, - Still beaming bright and fair. - - EMILY BRONTË - - - 244 A FROSTY NIGHT - - _Mother._ Alice, dear, what ails you, - Dazed and white and shaken? - Has the chill night numbed you? - Is it fright you have taken? - - _Alice._ Mother, I am very well, - I felt never better; - Mother, do not hold me so, - Let me write my letter. - - _Mother._ Sweet, my dear, what ails you? - _Alice._ No, but I am well. - The night was cold and frosty, - There's no more to tell. - - _Mother._ Ay, the night was frosty, - Coldly gaped the moon, - Yet the birds seemed twittering - Through green boughs of June. - - Soft and thick the snow lay, - Stars danced in the sky, - Not all the lambs of May-day - Skip so bold and high. - - Your feet were dancing, Alice, - Seemed to dance on air, - You looked a ghost or angel - In the starlight there. - - Your eyes were frosted starlight, - Your heart, fire, and snow. - Who was it said "I love you?" - _Alice._ Mother, let me go! - - ROBERT GRAVES - - - 245 IN A DREAR-NIGHTED DECEMBER - - In a drear-nighted December, - Too happy, happy tree, - Thy branches ne'er remember - Their green felicity: - The north cannot undo them - With a sleety whistle through them; - Nor frozen thawings glue them - From budding at the prime. - - In a drear-nighted December, - Too happy, happy brook, - Thy bubblings ne'er remember - Apollo's summer look; - But with a sweet forgetting, - They stay their crystal fretting, - Never, never petting - About the frozen time. - - Ah! would 'twere so with many - A gentle girl and boy! - But were there ever any - Writhed not at passèd joy? - To know the change and feel it, - When there is none to heal it - Nor numbèd sense to steal it, - Was never said in rhyme. - - JOHN KEATS - - - 246 A SONG OF WINTER - - Cold cold! - Cold to-night is broad Moylurg, - Higher the snow than the mountain-range, - The deer cannot get at their food. - - Cold till Doom! - The storm has spread over all: - A river is each furrow upon the slope, - Each ford a full pool. - - A great tidal sea is each loch, - A full loch is each pool: - Horses cannot get over the ford of Ross, - No more can two feet get there. - - The fish of Ireland are a-roaming, - There is no strand which the wave does not pound, - Not a town there is in the land, - Not a bell is heard, no crane talks. - - The wolves of Cuan-wood get - Neither rest nor sleep in their lair, - The little wren cannot find - Shelter in her nest on the slope of Lon. - - Keen wind and cold ice - Has burst upon the little company of birds, - The blackbird cannot get a lee to her liking, - Shelter for its side in Cuan-wood. - - Cosy our pot on its hook, - Crazy the hut on the slope of Lon: - The snow has crushed the wood here, - Toilsome to climb up Ben-bo. - - Glenn Rye's ancient bird - From the bitter wind gets grief; - Great her misery and her pain, - The ice will get into her mouth. - - From flock and from down to rise-- - Take it to heart!--were folly for thee; - Ice in heaps on every ford-- - That is why I say "cold"! - - - 247 COLD BLOWS THE WIND - - Cauld blows the wind frae north to south, - And drift is driving sairly; - The sheep are couring[97] in the heugh,[98] - Oh sirs! it's winter fairly. - Now up in the morning's no' for me, - Up in the morning early; - I'd rather gae supperless to my bed, - Than rise in the morning early. - - Loud rairs the blast amang the woods, - The branches tirling barely, - Amang the chimley taps it thuds, - And frost is nippin sairly. - Now up in the morning's no' for me, - Up in the morning early; - To sit a' the night I'd rather agree, - Than rise in the morning early. - - The sun peeps o'er the southlan' hill, - Like ony tim'rous carlie[99]; - Just blinks a wee, then sinks again, - And that we find severely. - Now up in the morning's no' for me, - Up in the morning early; - When snaw blaws into the chimley cheek, - Wha'd rise in the morning early. - - Nae linties[100] lilt on hedge or bush, - Poor things, they suffer sairly; - In cauldrife[101] quarters a' the night, - A' day they feed but sparely. - Now up in the morning's no' for me, - Up in the morning early; - Nae fate can be waur,[102] in winter time, - Than rise in the morning early. - - JOHN HAMILTON - - - 248 SKATING - - ... So through the darkness and the cold we flew, - And not a voice was idle; with the din - Smitten, the precipices rang aloud; - The leafless trees and every icy crag - Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills - Into the tumult sent an alien sound - Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars - Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west - The orange sky of evening died away. - Not seldom from the uproar I retired - Into a silent bay, or sportively - Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng, - To cut across the reflex of a star - That fled, and, flying still before me, gleamed - Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes, - When we had given our bodies to the wind, - And all the shadowy banks on either side - Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still - In rapid line of motion, then at once - Have I, reclining back upon my heels, - Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs - Wheeled by me--even as if the earth had rolled - With visible motion her diurnal round! - Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, - Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched - Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep.... - - WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - - - 249 LONDON SNOW - - When men were all asleep the snow came flying, - In large white flakes falling on the city brown, - Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, - Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town; - Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing; - Lazily and incessantly floating down and down: - Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing; - Hiding difference, making unevenness even, - Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing. - All night it fell, and when full inches seven - It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness, - The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven; - And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness - Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare: - The eye marvelled--marvelled at the dazzling whiteness; - The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air; - No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling, - And the busy morning cries came thin and spare. - Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling, - They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze - Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing; - Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees; - Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder, - "O look at the trees!" they cried, "O look at the trees!" - With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder, - Following along the white deserted way, - A country company long dispersed asunder: - When now already the sun, in pale display - Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below - His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day. - For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow; - And trains of sombre men, past tale of number, - Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go: - But even for them awhile no cares encumber - Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken, - The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber - At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm - they have broken. - - ROBERT BRIDGES - - - 250 FOR SNOW - - Oh the falling Snow! - Oh the falling Snow! - Where does it all come from? - Whither does it go? - Never never laughing, - Never never weeping, - Falling in its Sleep, - Forever ever sleeping-- - From what Sleep of Heaven - Does it flow, and go - Into what Sleep of Earth, - The falling falling Snow? - - ELEANOR FARJEON - - - 251 VELVET SHOES - - Let us walk in the white snow - In a soundless space; - With footsteps quiet and slow, - At a tranquil pace, - Under veils of white lace. - - I shall go shod in silk, - And you in wool, - White as a white cow's milk, - More beautiful - Than the breast of a gull. - - We shall walk through the still town - In a windless peace; - We shall step upon white down, - Upon silver fleece, - Upon softer than these. - - We shall walk in velvet shoes: - Wherever we go - Silence will fall like dews - On white silence below. - We shall walk in the snow. - - ELINOR WYLIE - - - 252 LUCY GRAY - - Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray: - And when I crossed the wild, - I chanced to see at break of day - The solitary child. - - No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; - She dwelt on a wide moor, - The sweetest thing that ever grew - Beside a human door! - - You yet may spy the fawn at play, - The hare upon the green; - But the sweet face of Lucy Gray - Will never more be seen. - - "To-night will be a stormy night-- - You to the town must go; - And take a lantern, Child, to light - Your mother through the snow." - - "That, Father! will I gladly do: - 'Tis scarcely afternoon-- - The minster-clock has just struck two, - And yonder is the moon!" - - At this the father raised his hook, - And snapped a faggot-band; - He plied his work;--and Lucy took - The lantern in her hand. - - Not blither is the mountain roe: - With many a wanton stroke - Her feet disperse the powdery snow, - That rises up like smoke. - - The storm came on before its time: - She wandered up and down; - And many a hill did Lucy climb: - But never reached the town. - - The wretched parents all that night - Went shouting far and wide; - But there was neither sound nor sight - To serve them for a guide. - - At day-break on a hill they stood - That overlook'd the moor; - And thence they saw the bridge of wood - A furlong from their door. - - They wept--and, turning homeward, cried - "In heaven we all shall meet!" - --When in the snow the mother spied - The print of Lucy's feet. - - Then downwards from the steep hill's edge - They tracked the footmarks small; - And through the broken hawthorn hedge, - And by the long stone-wall: - - And then an open field they crossed, - The marks were still the same; - They tracked them on, nor ever lost; - And to the bridge they came: - - They followed from the snowy bank - Those footmarks, one by one, - Into the middle of the plank; - And further there were none! - - --Yet some maintain that to this day - She is a living child; - That you may see sweet Lucy Gray - Upon the lonesome wild. - - O'er rough and smooth she trips along, - And never looks behind; - And sings a solitary song - That whistles in the wind. - - WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - - - 253 GONE WERE BUT THE WINTER COLD - - "Gane were but the winter cauld, - And gane were but the snaw, - I could sleep in the wild woods, - Where primroses blaw. - - "Cauld's the snaw at my head, - And cauld at my feet, - And the finger o' death is at my e'en - Closing them to sleep, - - "Let nane tell my father, - Or my mither sae dear; - I'll meet them baith in heaven - At the Spring o' the year." - - ALLAN CUNNINGHAM - - - 254 A CHILD'S WINTER EVENING - - The smothering dark engulfs relentlessly - With nightmare tread approaching steadfastly; - All horrors thicken as the daylight fails - And, is it wind, or some lost ghost that wails? - - Tongue cannot tell the stories that beset, - With livid pictures blackness dense as jet, - Or that wild questioning--whence we are; and why; - If death is darkness; and why I am I. - - The children look through the uneven pane - Out to the world, to bring them joy again; - But only snowflakes melting into mire - Without, within the red glow of the fire. - - They long for something wonderful to break - This long-drawn winter wistfulness, and take - Shape in the darkness; threatening like Fate - There comes a hell-like crackling from the grate. - - But hand in hand they urge themselves anear - And watch the cities burning bright and clear; - Faces diabolical and cliffs and halls - And strangely-pinnacled, molten castle walls. - - Tall figures flicker on the ceiling stark - Then grimly fade into one ominous dark; - Dream terrors iron-bound throng on them apace, - And dusk with fire, and flames with shadows race. - - GWEN JOHN - - - 255 A CAROL FOR SAINT STEPHEN'S DAY - - Seynt Stevene was a clerk, - In kyng HerowdÄ—s halle, - And servyd him of bred and cloth, - As every kyng befalle. - - Stevyn out of Kechoun cam, - Wyth boris bed on honde, - He saw a sterr was fayr and bryght - Over Bedlem stonde. - - He kyst adoun the bores hed, - And went into the halle: - "I forsake the, kyng Herowde, - And thi werkÄ—s alle. - - "I forsak the, kyng Herowde, - And thi werkÄ—s alle: - Ther is a chyld, in Bedlem born, - Is better than we alle." - - "Quhat eylyt the, Stevene? - Quhat is the befalle? - Lakkyt the eyther mete or drynk - In kyng HerowdÄ—s halle?" - - "Lakyt me neyther mete ne drynk - In kyng HerowdÄ—s halle; - Ther is a chyld, in Bedlem born, - Is better than we alle." - - "Quhat eylyt the, Stevyn, art thu wod? - Or thu gynnyst to brede? - Lakyt the eyther gold or fe, - Or ony rychÄ— wede?" - - "Lakyt me neyther gold ne fe, - Ne non rychÄ— wede; - Ther is a chyld, in Bedlem born, - Shal helpyn us at our nede." - - "That is al so soth, Stevyn, - Al so soth, I wys, - As this capon crowÄ— schel - That lyth her in myn dych." - - That word was not so sonÄ— seyd, - That wordÄ— in that halle, - The capon crew, _Christus natus est!_ - Among the lordÄ—s alle. - - "Rysyt up, myn túrmentowres - Be to and al be on, - And ledyt Stevyn out of this town, - And stonyt hym wyth ston." - - Tokyn hem Stevene, - And stonyd hym in the way: - And therfor is his evyn - On CrystÄ—s owyn day. - - - 256 THE BURNING BABE - - As I in hoary winter's night - Stood shivering in the snow, - Surprised I was with sudden heat, - Which made my heart to glow; - And lifting up a fearful eye - To view what fire was near, - A pretty babe all burning bright, - Did in the air appear: - Who, scorchèd with excessive heat, - Such floods of tears did shed, - As though his floods should quench his flames, - Which with his tears were fed: - "Alas!" quoth he, "but newly born, - In fiery heats I fry,[103] - Yet none approach to warm their hearts - Or feel my fire, but I! - - My faultless breast the furnace is, - The fuel wounding thorns; - Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, - The ashes shames and scorns; - The fuel Justice layeth on, - And Mercy blows the coals; - The metal in this furnace wrought - Are men's defilèd souls: - For which, as now on fire I am, - To work them to their good, - So will I melt into a bath, - To wash them in my blood." - With this he vanished out of sight, - And swiftly shrunk away, - And straight I called unto my mind - That it was Christmas Day. - - ROBERT SOUTHWELL - - - 257 THE HOLLY AND THE IVY - - The holly and the ivy, - Now both are full-well grown, - Of all the trees that are in the wood, - The holly bears the crown. - _O the rising of the sun,_ - _The running of the deer,_ - _The playing of the merry Organ,_ - _Sweet singing in the quire._ - _Sweet singing in the quire._ - - The holly bears a blossom, - As white as lily-flower; - And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, - To be our sweet Saviour. - _O the rising of the sun_,... - - The holly bears a berry, - As red as any blood; - And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, - To do poor sinners good. - _O the rising of the sun_,... - - The holly bears a prickle, - As sharp as any thorn; - And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, - On Christmas Day in the morn. - _O the rising of the sun_,... - - The holly bears a bark, - As bitter as any gall; - And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, - For to redeem us all. - _O the rising of the sun_,... - - The holly and the ivy, - Now both are full well grown, - Of all the trees that are in the wood, - The holly bears the crown. - - _O the rising of the sun,_ - _The running of the deer,_ - _The playing of the merry Organ,_ - _Sweet singing in the quire._ - _Sweet singing in the quire._ - - - 258 WELCOME YULE! - - ... Wolcum be thu, hevene kyng, - Wolcum, born in on morwenyng, - Wolcum for home[104] we shal syng, - Wolcum yol. - - Wolcum be ye Stefne and Jon, - Wolcum Innocentes everychon, - Wolcum Thomas martyr on, - Wolcum yol. - - Wolcum be ye, good newe yere, - Wolcum twelthe-day, bothe infer,[105] - Wolcum syentÄ—s lef[106] and der, - Wolcum yol. - - Wolcum be ye Candylmesse, - Wolcum be ye qwyn of blys, - Wolcum both to mor and lesse, - Wolcum yol. - - Wolcum be ye that am her,[107] - Wolcum alle and mak good cher, - Wolcum alle another yer, - Wolcum yol. - - - 259 NAY, IVY, NAY - - _Nay, Ivy, nay,_ - _Hyt shal not be, I wys;_ - _Let Holy hafe the maystry,_ - _As the maner[108] ys._ - - Holy stond in the halle, - Fayre to behold; - Ivy stond wythout the dore, - She ys ful sore a-cold. - _Nay, Ivy, nay_ ... - - Holy and hys mery men, - They dawnsyn and they syng; - Ivy and hur maydenys, - They wepyn and they wryng. - _Nay, Ivy, nay_ ... - - Ivy hath a kybe,[109] - She kaght yt wyth the colde, - So mot thay all haf ae, - That wyth Ivy hold. - _Nay, Ivy, nay_ ... - - Holy hath berys, - As rede as any rose, - The foster[110] and the hunter - Kepe hem[111] fro the doos. - _Nay, Ivy, nay_ ... - - Ivy hath berys, - As blake as any slo, - Ther com the oulÄ—, - And ete hym as she goo. - _Nay, Ivy, nay_ ... - - Holy hath byrdys, - A ful fayre flok, - The nyghtyngale, the poppynguy, - The gayntyl lavyrok. - _Nay, Ivy, nay_ ... - - Gode Ivy [tell me] - What byrdys ast thu?[112] - Non but the howlat, - That kreye[113] how, how! - - _Nay, Ivy, nay, - Hyt shal not be, I wys, - Let Holy hafe the maystry, - As the maner ys._ - - - 260 TU-WHIT TO-WHO - - When Isicles hang by the wall, - And Dicke the shepheard blowes his naile, - And Tom beares Logges into the hall, - And Milke comes frozen home in paile: - When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle, - Then nightly sings the staring Owle, - _Tu-whit to-who_ - A merrie note, - While greasie Jone doth keele[114] the pot. - - When all aloud the winde doth blow, - And coifing drownes the Parson's saw; - And birds sit brooding in the snow, - And Marrian's nose lookes red and raw; - When roasted Crabs[115] hisse in the bowle, - Then nightly sings the staring Owle, - _Tu-whit to-who_ - A merrie note, - While greasy Jone doth keele the pot. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 261 BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND - - Blow, blow, thou winter winde, - Thou art not so unkinde - As man's ingratitude; - Thy tooth is not so keene, - Because thou art not seene, - Although thy breath be rude. - Heigh ho! sing heigh ho, unto the green holly, - Most friendship is fayning, most Loving meere folly: - Then heigh ho, the holly, - This Life is most jolly. - - Freize, freize, thou bitter skie, - That dost not bight so nigh - As benefitts forgot; - Though thou the waters warpe, - Thy sting is not so sharpe, - As friend remembered not. - Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly, - Most friendship is fayning, most Loving meere folly: - Then heigh ho, the holly, - This Life is most jolly. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - "LIKE STARS UPON SOME GLOOMY GROVE" - - - 262 SPRING QUIET - - Gone were but the Winter, - Come were but the Spring, - I would go to a covert - Where the birds sing. - - Where in the whitethorn - Singeth a thrush, - And a robin sings - In the holly-bush. - - Full of fresh scents - Are the budding boughs - Arching high over - A cool green house: - - Full of sweet scents, - And whispering air - Which sayeth softly: - "We spread no snare; - - "Here dwell in safety, - Here dwell alone, - With a clear stream - And a mossy stone. - - "Here the sun shineth - Most shadily; - Here is heard an echo - Of the far sea, - Though far off it be." - - CHRISTINA ROSSETTI - - - 263 A WIDOW BIRD - - A widow bird sat mourning for her love - Upon a wintry bough; - The frozen wind crept on above, - The freezing stream below. - - There was no leaf upon the forest bare, - No flower upon the ground, - And little motion in the air - Except the mill-wheel's sound. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 264 ECHO'S LAMENT FOR NARCISSUS - - Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears; - Yet, slower yet; O faintly, gentle springs; - List to the heavy part the music bears; - Woe weeps out her division when she sings. - Droop herbs and flowers; - Fall grief in showers, - Our beauties are not ours; - O, I could still, - Like melting snow upon some craggy hill, - Drop, drop, drop, drop, - Since nature's pride is now a withered daffodil. - - BEN JONSON - - - 265 THIS LIFE - - This Life, which seems so fair, - Is like a bubble blown up in the air - By sporting children's breath, - Who chase it everywhere, - And strive who can most motion it bequeath. - And though it sometimes seem of its own might - Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there, - And firm to hover in that empty height, - That only is because it is so light. - But in that pomp it doth not long appear; - For when' tis most admired--in a thought, - Because it erst[116] was nought, it turns to nought. - - WILLIAM DRUMMOND - - - 266 SWEET CONTENT - - Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? - O, sweet content! - Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed? - O, punishment! - Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed - To add to golden numbers golden numbers? - O, sweet content! O, sweet, O sweet content! - - Work apace, apace, apace, apace; - Honest labour bears a lovely face; - Then hey nonny, hey nonny, nonny! - - Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring? - O, sweet content! - Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? - O, punishment! - Then he that patiently want's burden bears, - No burden bears, but is a king, a king! - O, sweet content! O, sweet, O, sweet content! - - Work apace, apace, apace, apace; - Honest labour bears a lovely face; - Then hey nonny, hey nonny, nonny! - - THOMAS DEKKER - - - 267 OH, SWEET CONTENT - - Oh, sweet content, that turns the labourer's sweat - To tears of joy, and shines the roughest face; - How often have I sought you high and low, - And found you still in some lone quiet place; - - Here, in my room, when full of happy dreams, - With no life heard beyond that merry sound - Of moths that on my lighted ceiling kiss - Their shadows as they dance and dance around; - - Or in a garden, on a summer's night, - When I have seen the dark and solemn air - Blink with the blind bats' wings, and heaven's bright face - Twitch with the stars that shine in thousands there. - - WILLIAM H. DAVIES - - - 268 RARELY, RARELY, COMEST THOU - - Rarely, rarely, comest thou, - Spirit of Delight! - Wherefore hast thou left me now - Many a day and night? - Many a weary night and day - 'Tis since thou art fled away. - - How shall ever one like me - Win thee back again? - With the joyous and the free - Thou wilt scoff at pain. - Spirit false! thou hast forgot - All but those who need thee not. - - As a lizard with the shade - Of a trembling leaf, - Thou with sorrow art dismayed; - Even the sighs of grief - Reproach thee, that thou art not near, - And reproach thou wilt not hear. - - Let me set my mournful ditty - To a merry measure, - Thou wilt never come for pity, - Thou wilt come for pleasure. - Pity then will cut away, - Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. - - I love all that thòu lovest, - Spirit of Delight! - The fresh Earth in new leaves drest, - And the starry night, - Autumn evening, and the morn - When the golden mists are born. - - I love snow, and all the forms - Of the radiant frost; - I love waves, and winds, and storms, - Everything almost - Which is Nature's, and may be - Untainted by man's misery. - - I love tranquil solitude - And such society - As is quiet, wise, and good; - Between thee and me - What difference? but thou dost possess - The things I seek, not love them less. - - I love Love--though he has wings, - And like light can flee, - But above all other things, - Spirit, I love thee-- - Thou art love and life! O come, - Make once more my heart thy home! - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 269 BIRTHRIGHT - - Lord Rameses of Egypt sighed - Because a summer evening passed; - And little Ariadne cried - That summer fancy fell at last - To dust; and young Verona died - When beauty's hour was overcast. - - Theirs was the bitterness we know - Because the clouds of hawthorn keep - So short a state, and kisses go - To tombs unfathomably deep, - While Rameses and Romeo - And little Ariadne sleep. - - JOHN DRINKWATER - - - 270 O SORROW! - - ... "O Sorrow, - Why dost borrow - The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?-- - To give maiden blushes - To the white rose bushes? - Or is't thy dewy hand the daisy tips? - - "O Sorrow, - Why dost borrow - The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye?-- - To give the glow-worm light? - Or, on a moonless night, - To tinge, on siren shores, the salt sea-spry? - - "O Sorrow, - Why dost borrow - The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue?-- - To give at evening pale - Unto the nightingale, - That thou mayst listen the cold dews among? - - "O sorrow, - Why dost borrow - Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?-- - A lover would not tread - A cowslip on the head, - Though he should dance from eve till peep of day-- - Nor any drooping flower - Held sacred for thy bower, - Wherever he may sport himself and play. - - "To Sorrow, - I bade good-morrow, - And thought to leave her far away behind; - But cheerly, cheerly, - She loves me dearly; - She is so constant, to me, and so kind: - I could deceive her - And so leave her, - But oh! she is so constant and so kind.... - - "Come then, Sorrow! - Sweetest Sorrow! - Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast: - I thought to leave thee - And deceive thee, - But now of all the world I love thee best. - - "There is not one, - No, no, not one - But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid; - Thou art her mother, - And her brother, - Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade."... - - JOHN KEATS - - - 271 WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED - - When the lamp is shattered, - The light in the dust lies dead-- - When the cloud is scattered - The rainbow's glory is shed. - When the lute is broken, - Sweet tones are remembered not; - When the lips have spoken, - Loved accents are soon forgot. - - As music and splendour - Survive not the lamp and the lute, - The heart's echoes render - No song when the spirit is mute:-- - No song but sad dirges, - Like the wind through a ruined cell, - Or the mournful surges - That ring the dead seaman's knell. - - When hearts have once mingled - Love first leaves the well-built nest; - The weak one is singled - To endure what it once possest. - O Love, who bewailest - The frailty of all things here, - Why choose you the frailest - For your cradle, your home, and your bier? - - Its passions will rock thee - As the storm rocks the ravens on high: - Bright reason will mock thee, - Like the sun from a wintry sky. - From thy nest every rafter - Will rot, and thine eagle home - Leave thee to naked laughter, - When leaves fall and cold winds come. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 272 ONCE - - He sees them pass - As the light is graying, - Each lad and lass - In their beauty gaying - And a voice in his aching heart is saying: - - "Once--once even I - Was straight as these, - As clear of eye, - And as apt to please - When I tuned my voice to balladries. - - Now my eyes are dim, - Their old fires forsaking, - And each wasted limb - As a branch is shaking, - And my grief-bowed heart will soon be breaking. - - --Ah, if One comes not - Beckoning nigh - To that land where hums not - One small fly, - These Strong and Fair shall be as I." - - ERIC N. BATTERHAM - - - 273 UPON THE IMAGE OF DEATH - - Before my face the picture hangs - That dailie should put me in minde - Of those cold qualms and bitter pangs - That shortly I am like to finde: - But yet, alas! full little I - Do think hereon, that I must die. - - I often look upon a face - Most uglie, grislie, bare, and thin; - I often view the hollow place - Where eyes and nose have sometime been; - I see the bones across that lie; - Yet little think, that I must die. - - I read the label underneathe, - That telleth me whereto I must: - I see the sentence eke that saithe - "Remember, man, that thou art duste;" - But yet, alas, but seldom I - Do think indeed, that I must die! - - Continually at my bed's head - An hearse doth hang, which doth me tell - That I, ere morning, may be dead, - Though now I feel myself full well: - But yet, alas, for all this, I - Have little minde that I must die! - - The gowne which I do use to weare, - The knife, wherewith I cut my meate, - And eke that old and ancient chair - Which is my only usual seate, - All these do tell me I must die; - And yet my life amende not I! - - My ancestors are turned to clay, - And many of my mates are gone; - My youngers daily drop away;-- - And can I think to 'scape alone? - No, no, I know that I must die; - And yet my life amende not I! - - Not Solomon, for all his wit, - Nor Samson, though he were so strong, - No king, nor ever person yet, - Could 'scape, but Death laid him along! - Wherefore I know that I must die; - And yet my life amende not I! - - Though all the east did quake to hear - Of Alexander's dreadful name, - And all the west did likewise fear - The sound of Julius Caesar's fame, - Yet both by death in duste now lie; - Who then can 'scape, but he must die? - - If none can 'scape Death's dreadful darte, - If rich and poor his beck obey, - If strong, if wise, if all do smarte, - Then I to 'scape shall have no way. - O grant me grace, O God, that I - My life may mende, sith I must die! - - ROBERT SOUTHWELL - - - 274 ADIEU! FAREWELL EARTH'S BLISS! - - Adieu! farewell earth's bliss! - This world uncertain is: - Fond are life's lustful joys, - Death proves them all but toys. - None from his darts can fly: - I am sick, I must die-- - _Lord, have mercy on us!_ - - Rich men, trust not in wealth, - Gold cannot buy you health; - Physic himself must fade; - All things to end are made; - The plague full swift goes by: - I am sick, I must die-- - _Lord, have mercy on us!_ - - Beauty is but a flower - Which wrinkles will devour: - Brightness falls from the air; - Queens have died young and fair - Dust hath closed Helen's eye: - I am sick, I must die-- - _Lord, have mercy on us!_ - - Strength stoops unto the grave - Worms feed on Hector brave; - Swords may not fight with fate; - Earth still holds ope her gate; - _Come! come!_ the bells do cry: - I am sick, I must die-- - _Lord, have mercy on us!_ - - Wit with his wantonness, - Tasteth death's bitterness. - Hell's executioner - Hath no ears for to hear - What vain art can reply. - I am sick, I must die-- - _Lord, have mercy on us!_ - - Haste, therefore, each degree - To welcome destiny! - Heaven is our heritage; - Earth but a player's stage. - Mount we unto the sky! - I am sick, I must die-- - _Lord, have mercy on us!_ - - THOMAS NASH - - - 275 MESSAGES - - What shall I your true-love tell, - Earth-forsaking maid? - What shall I your true-love tell, - When life's spectre's laid? - - "Tell him that, our side the grave, - Maid may not conceive - Life should be so sad to have, - That's so sad to leave!" - - What shall I your true-love tell, - When I come to him? - What shall I your true-love tell-- - Eyes growing dim! - - "Tell him this, when you shall part - From a maiden pined; - That I see him with my heart, - Now my eyes are blind." - - What shall I your true-love tell? - Speaking-while is scant. - What shall I your true-love tell, - Death's white postulant? - - "Tell him--love, with speech at strife, - For last utterance saith: - I, who loved with all my life, - Love with all my death." - - FRANCIS THOMPSON - - - 276 DOUBTS - - When she sleeps, her soul, I know, - Goes a wanderer on the air, - Wings where I may never go, - Leaves her lying, still and fair, - Waiting, empty, laid aside, - Like a dress upon a chair.... - This I know, and yet I know - Doubts that will not be denied. - - For if the soul be not in place, - What has laid trouble in her face? - And, sits there nothing ware and wise - Behind the curtains of her eyes, - What is it, in the self's eclipse, - Shadows, soft and passingly, - About the corners of her lips, - The smile that is essential she? - - And if the spirit be not there, - Why is fragrance in the hair? - - RUPERT BROOKE - - - 277 HARK - - Hark! now everything is still, - The screech-owl and the whistler shrill - Call upon our dame aloud, - And bid her quickly don her shroud. - - Much you had of land and rent; - Your length in clay's now competent. - A long war disturbed your mind; - Here your perfect peace is signed. - Of what is't fools make such vain keeping?-- - Sin their conception, their birth weeping, - Their life a general mist of error, - Their death a hideous storm of terror. - Strew your hair with powders sweet, - Don clean linen, bathe your feet, - And (the foul fiend more to check) - A crucifix let bless your neck: - 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day; - End your groan, and come away. - - JOHN WEBSTER - - - 278 A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE - - This ae nighte, this ae nighte, - _Every nighte and alle_, - Fire and sleet and candle-lighte, - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - When thou from hence away art past, - _Every nighte and alle_, - To Whinny-muir thou comest at last; - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon, - _Every nighte and alle_, - Sit thee down and put them on; - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane, - _Every nighte and alle_, - The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane; - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - From Whinny-muir that thou may'st pass, - _Every nighte and alle_, - To Brig o' Dread thou comest at last, - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - From Brig o' Dread that thou may'st pass, - _Every nighte and alle_, - To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last, - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - If ever thou gavest meat or drink, - _Every nighte and alle_, - The fire sall never make thee shrink; - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - If meat and drink thou ne'er gav'st nane - _Every nighte and alle_, - The fire will burn thee to the bare bane, - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - This ae nighte, this ae nighte, - _Every nighte and alle_, - Fire and sleet and candle-lighte, - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - - 279 HE IS THE LONELY GREATNESS - - He is the lonely greatness of the world-- - (His eyes are dim), - His power it is holds up the Cross - That holds up Him. - - He takes the sorrow of the threefold hour-- - (His eyelids close), - Round Him and round, the wind--His Spirit--where - It listeth blows. - - And so the wounded greatness of the World - In silence lies-- - And death is shattered by the light from out - Those darkened eyes. - - MADELEINE CARON ROCK - - - 280 "O SING UNTO MY ROUNDELAY" - - O sing unto my roundelay, - O drop the briny tear with me, - Dance no more at holyday - Like a running river be! - My love is dead, - Gone to his death-bed, - All under the willow-tree. - - Black his cryne[117] as the winter night, - White his rode[118] as the summer snow, - Red his face as the morning light, - Cold he lies in the grave below: - My love is dead, - Gone to his death-bed, - All under the willow-tree.... - - See, the white moon shines on high; - Winter is my true-love's shroud, - Whiter than the morning sky, - Whiter than the evening cloud. - My love is dead, - Gone to his death-bed, - All under the willow-tree.... - - With my hands I'll dent[119] the briars - Round his holy corse to gre;[120] - Ouph[121] and fairy, light your fires, - Here my body still shall be. - My love is dead, - Gone to his death-bed, - All under the willow-tree.... - - THOMAS CHATTERTON - - - 281 FEAR NO MORE - - Feare no more the heate o' th' Sun, - Nor the fureous Winters rages, - Thou thy worldly task hast don, - Home art gon, and tane thy wages. - Golden Lads and Girles all must, - As Chimney-Sweepers, come to dust. - - Feare no more the frowne o' th' Great, - Thou art past the Tirants stroake, - Care no more to cloath, and eate, - To thee the Reede is as the Oake: - The Scepter, Learning, Physicke must, - All follow this, and come to dust. - - Feare no more the Lightning flash, - Nor the all-dreaded Thunder-stone, - Feare not Slander, Censure rash, - Thou hast finished joy and mone. - All Lovers young, all Lovers must, - Consigne to thee, and come to dust.... - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 282 A LAND DIRGE - - Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, - Since o'er shady groves they hover, - And with leaves and flowers do cover - The friendless bodies of unburied men. - Call unto his funeral dole - The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, - To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, - And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm; - But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, - For with his nails he'll dig them up again. - - JOHN WEBSTER - - - 283 THE GRAVE OF LOVE - - I dug, beneath the cypress shade, - What well might seem an elfin's grave; - And every pledge in earth I laid, - That erst thy false affection gave. - - I pressed them down the sod beneath; - I placed one mossy stone above; - And twined the rose's fading wreath - Around the sepulchre of love. - - Frail as thy love, the flowers were dead - Ere yet the evening sun was set: - But years shall see the cypress spread, - Immutable as my regret. - - THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK - - - 284 THE BURIAL - - All the flowers of the spring - Meet to perfume our burying; - These have but their growing prime, - And man does flourish but his time. - Survey our progress from our birth-- - We are set, we grow, we turn to earth, - Courts adieu, and all delights, - All bewitching appetites! - Sweetest breath and clearest eye, - Like perfumes go out and die; - And consequently this is done - As shadows wait upon the sun. - Vain the ambition of kings - Who seek by trophies and dead things - To leave a living name behind, - And weave but nets to catch the wind. - - JOHN WEBSTER - - - 285 ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY - - Mortality, behold and fear! - What a change of flesh is here! - Think how many royal bones - Sleep within these heaps of stones; - Here they lie had realms and lands, - Who now want strength to stir their hands; - Where from their pulpits sealed with dust - They preach:--"In greatness is no trust." - Here's an acre sown indeed - With the richest royallest seed - That the Earth did e'er suck in - Since the first man died for sin: - Here the bones of birth have cried:-- - "Though gods they were, as men they died!" - Here are sands, ignoble things, - Dropt from the ruined sides of Kings: - Here's a world of pomp and state - Buried in dust, once dead by fate. - - FRANCIS BEAUMONT - - - 286 A FUNERALL SONG - - (_Lamenting Syr Phillip Sidney_) - - Come to me, grief, for ever; - Come to me, tears, day and night; - Come to me, plaint, ah, helpless; - Just grief, heart tears, plaint worthy. - - Go from me dread to die now; - Go from me care to live more; - Go from me joys all on earth; - Sidney, O Sidney is dead. - - He whom the court adornèd, - He whom the country courtesied, - He who made happy his friends, - He that did good to all men. - - Sidney, the hope of land strange, - Sidney, the flower of England, - Sidney, the spirit heroic, - Sidney is dead, O dead. - - Dead? no, no, but renownèd, - With the Anointed onèd;[122] - Honour on earth at his feet, - Bliss everlasting his seat. - - Come to me, grief, for ever; - Come to me, tears, day and night; - Come to me, plaint, ah, helpless; - Just grief, heart tears, plaint worthy. - - - 287 ON JOHN DONNE'S BOOK OF POEMS - - I see in his last preached and printed Booke, - His Picture in a sheet. In Pauls I looke, - And see his Statue in a sheete of stone, - And sure his body in the grave hath one. - Those sheetes present him dead; these, if you buy, - You have him living to Eternity. - - JOHN MARRIOT - - - 288 O, LIFT ONE THOUGHT - - Stop, Christian passer-by!--Stop, child of God, - And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod - A poet lies, or that which once seemed he. - O, lift one thought in prayer for S.T.C.; - That he who many a year with toil of breath - Found death in life, may here find life in death. - Mercy for praise--to be forgiven for fame - He asked, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same! - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - - 289 ELEGY - - _To the Memory of an unfortunate Lady._ - - ... Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age, - Dull, sullen prisoners in the body's cage; - Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years, - Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres; - Like eastern kings, a lazy state they keep, - And close confined to their own palace, sleep.... - Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dressed, - And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast: - There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, - There the first roses of the year shall blow; - While angels with their silver wings o'ershade - The ground, now sacred by thy relics made. - So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, - What once had beauty, titles, wealth and fame. - How loved, how honoured once, avails thee not - To whom related, or by whom begot; - A heap of dust alone remains of thee: - 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be! - Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, - Deaf the praised ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. - Ev'n he whose soul now melts in mournful lays - Shall shortly want the generous tear he pays; - Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part, - And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart: - Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, - The Muse forgot, and thou beloved no more! - - ALEXANDER POPE - - - 290 UPON A CHILD THAT DIED - - Here she lies, a pretty bud, - Lately made of flesh and blood: - Who, as soone, fell fast asleep, - As her little eyes did peep. - Give her strewings; but not stir - The earth, that lightly covers her. - - ROBERT HERRICK - - - 291 THE TURNSTILE - - Ah! sad wer we as we did peäce - The wold church road, wi' downcast feäce, - The while the bells, that mwoaned so deep - Above our child a-left asleep, - Wer now a-zingÄ—n all alive - Wi' tother bells to meäke the vive. - But up at woone pleäce we come by, - 'Twer hard to keep woone's two eyes dry; - On Steän-cliff road, 'ithin the drong, - Up where, as vo'k do pass along, - The turnÄ—n stile, a-païnted white, - Do sheen by day an' show by night. - - Vor always there, as we did goo - To church, thik stile did let us drough, - Wi' spreadÄ—n eärms that wheeled to guide - Us each in turn to tother zide. - An' vu'st ov all the traïn he took - My wife, wi' winsome gaït an' look; - An' then zent on my little maïd, - A-skippen onward, over-jaÿ'd - To reach ageän the pleäce o' pride, - Her comely mother's left han' zide. - An' then, a-wheelÄ—n roun', he took - On me, 'ithin his third white nook. - An' in the fourth, a-sheäken wild, - He zent us on our giddy child. - - But eesterday he guided slow - My downcast Jenny, vull o' woe, - An' then my little maïd in black, - A-walkÄ—n softly on her track; - An' after he'd a-turned ageän, - To let me goo along the leäne, - He had noo little bwoy to vill - His last white eärms, an' they stood still. - - WILLIAM BARNES - - - 292 THE EXEQUY - - ... Sleep on, my Love, in thy cold bed - Never to be disquieted! - My last good-night! Thou wilt not wake - Till I thy fate shall overtake: - Till age, or grief, or sickness must - Marry my body to that dust - It so much loves; and fill the room - My heart keeps empty in that tomb. - Stay for me there: I will not fail - To meet thee in that hollow vale. - And think not much of my delay: - I am already on the way, - And follow thee with all the speed - Desire can make, or sorrows breed. - Each minute is a short degree - And every hour a step towards thee.... - - HENRY KING - - - 293 "I FOUND HER OUT THERE" - - I found her out there - On a slope few see, - That falls westwardly - To the salt-edged air, - Where the ocean breaks - On the purple strand, - And the hurricane shakes - The solid land. - - I brought her here, - And have laid her to rest - In a noiseless nest - No sea beats near. - She will never be stirred - In her loamy cell - By the waves long heard - And loved so well. - - So she does not sleep - By those haunted heights - The Atlantic smites - And the blind gales sweep, - Whence she often would gaze - At Dundagel's famed head, - While the dipping blaze - Dyed her face fire-red; - - And would sigh at the tale - Of sunk Lyonnesse, - As a wind-tugged tress - Flapped her cheek like a flail; - Or listen at whiles - With a thought-bound brow - To the murmuring miles - She is far from now. - - Yet her shade, maybe, - Will creep underground - Till it catch the sound - Of that western sea - As it swells and sobs - Where she once domiciled, - And joys in its throbs - With the heart of a child. - - THOMAS HARDY - - - 294 I NEVER SHALL LOVE THE SNOW AGAIN - - I never shall love the snow again - Since Maurice died: - With corniced drift it blocked the lane - And sheeted in a desolate plain - The country side. - - The trees with silvery rime bedight - Their branches bare. - By day no sun appeared; by night - The hidden moon shed thievish light - In the misty air. - - We fed the birds that flew around - In flocks to be fed: - No shelter in holly or brake they found. - The speckled thrush on the frozen ground - Lay frozen and dead. - - We skated on stream and pond; we cut - The crinching snow - To Doric temple or Arctic hut; - We laughed and sang at nightfall, shut - By the fireside glow. - - Yet grudged we our keen delights before - Maurice should come. - We said, In-door or out-of-door - We shall love life for a month or more, - When he is home. - - They brought him home; 'twas two days late - For Christmas day: - Wrapped in white, in solemn state, - A flower in his hand, all still and straight - Our Maurice lay. - - And two days ere the year outgave - We laid him low. - The best of us truly were not brave, - When we laid Maurice down in his grave - Under the snow. - - ROBERT BRIDGES - - - 295 THE COMFORTERS - - When I crept over the hill, broken with tears, - When I crouched down on the grass, dumb in despair, - I heard the soft croon of the wind bend to my ears, - I felt the light kiss of the wind touching my hair. - - When I stood lone on the height my sorrow did speak, - As I went down the hill, I cried and I cried, - The soft little hands of the rain stroking my cheek, - The kind little feet of the rain ran by my side. - - When I went to thy grave, broken with tears, - When I crouched down in the grass, dumb in despair, - I heard the sweet croon of the wind soft in my ears, - I felt the kind lips of the wind touching my hair. - - When I stood lone by thy cross, sorrow did speak, - When I went down the long hill, I cried and I cried, - The soft little hands of the rain stroked my pale cheek, - The kind little feet of the rain ran by my side. - - DORA SIGERSON SHORTER - - - 296 THE CHILDLESS FATHER - - "Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away! - Not a soul in the village this morning will stay; - The hare has just started from Hamilton's grounds, - And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds." - - --Of coats and of jackets grey, scarlet, and green, - On the slopes of the pastures all colours were seen; - With their comely blue aprons, and caps white as snow, - The girls on the hills made a holiday show. - - Fresh sprigs of green boxwood, not six months before, - Filled the funeral basin at Timothy's door; - A coffin through Timothy's threshold had passed; - One child did it bear, and that child was his last. - - Now fast up the dell came the noise and the fray, - The horse and the horn, and the "hark! hark away!" - Old Timothy took up his staff, and he shut, - With a leisurely motion, the door of his hut. - - Perhaps to himself at that moment he said, - "The key I must take, for my Helen is dead." - But of this in my ears not a word did he speak, - And he went to the chase with a tear on his cheek. - - WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - - - 297 "LYDIA IS GONE THIS MANY A YEAR" - - Lydia is gone this many a year, - Yet when the lilacs stir, - In the old gardens far or near, - This house is full of her. - - They climb the twisted chamber stair; - Her picture haunts the room; - On the carved shelf beneath it there, - They heap the purple bloom. - - A ghost so long has Lydia been, - Her cloak upon the wall, - Broidered, and gilt, and faded green, - Seems not her cloak at all. - - The book, the box on mantle laid, - The shells in a pale row, - Are those of some dim little maid, - A thousand years ago. - - And yet the house is full of her, - She goes and comes again; - And longings thrill, and memories stir, - Like lilacs in the rain. - - Out in their yards the neighbours walk, - Among the blossoms tall; - Of Anne, of Phyllis do they talk, - Of Lydia not at all. - - LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE - - - 298 REMEMBRANCE - - Cold in the earth--and the deep snow piled above thee, - Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave! - Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, - Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave? - - Now--when alone--do my thoughts no longer hover - Over the mountains, on that northern shore, - Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover - Thy noble heart for ever, ever more? - - Cold in the earth--and fifteen wild Decembers, - From those brown hills, have melted into spring: - Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers - After such years of change and suffering! - - Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee, - While the world's tide is bearing me along; - Other desires and other hopes beset me, - Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong! - - No later light has lightened up my heaven, - No second morn has ever shone for me; - All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given, - All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee. - - But, when the days of golden dreams had perished, - And even Despair was powerless to destroy; - Then did I learn how existence could be cherished, - Strengthened, and fed, without the aid of joy. - - Then did I check the tears of useless passion-- - Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine; - Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten - Down to that tomb already more than mine. - - And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, - Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain; - Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, - How could I seek the empty world again? - - EMILY BRONTË - - - 299 SONG - - When I am dead, my dearest, - Sing no sad songs for me; - Plant thou no roses at my head, - Nor shady cypress-tree: - Be the green grass above me - With showers and dewdrops wet; - And if thou wilt, remember, - And if thou wilt, forget. - - I shall not see the shadows, - I shall not feel the rain; - I shall not hear the nightingale - Sing on, as if in pain: - And dreaming through the twilight - That doth not rise nor set, - Haply I may remember - And haply may forget. - - CHRISTINA ROSSETTI - - - 300 "WHERE SHALL THE LOVER REST" - - Where shall the lover rest - Whom the fates sever - From his true maiden's breast - Parted for ever?-- - Where, through groves deep and high - Sounds the far billow, - Where early violets die - Under the willow. - _Eleu loro_ - Soft shall be his pillow. - - There through the summer day - Cool streams are laving: - There, while the tempests sway, - Scarce are boughs waving; - There thy rest shalt thou take, - Parted for ever, - Never again to wake - Never, O never! - _Eleu loro_ - Never, O never! - - SIR WALTER SCOTT - - - 301 REMEMBER - - Remember me when I am gone away, - Gone far away into the silent land; - When you can no more hold me by the hand, - Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. - Remember me when no more day by day - You tell me of our future that you planned: - Only remember me; you understand - It will be late to counsel then or pray. - - Yet if you should forget me for a while - And afterwards remember, do not grieve: - For if the darkness and corruption leave - A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, - Better by far you should forget and smile - Than that you should remember and be sad. - - CHRISTINA ROSSETTI - - - 302 READEN OV A HEAD-STWONE - - As I wer readÄ—n ov a stwone, - In Grenley churchyard, all alwone, - A little maïd ran up, wi' pride - To zee me there; an' pushed azide - A bunch o' bennets, that did hide - A verse her father, as she zaïd, - Put up above her mother's head - To tell how much he loved her. - - The verse wer short, but very good, - I stood an' larn'd en where I stood:-- - "Mid[123] God, dear Meäry, gi'e me greäce - "To vind, lik' thee, a better pleäce, - "Where I, oonce mwore, mid zee thy feäce; - "An' bring thy children up, to know - "His word, that they mid come an' show - "Thy soul how much I loved thee." - - "Where's father, then," I zaid, "my chile?" - "Dead, too," she answered wi' a smile; - "An' I an' brother Jem do bide - "At Betty White's, o'tother zide - "O' road." "Mid He, my chile," I cried, - "That's father to the fatherless, - "Become thy father now, an' bless - "An' keep, an' leäd, an' love thee." - - --Though she've a-lost, I thought, so much, - Still He don't let the thoughts o't touch - Her litsome heart, by day or night; - An' zoo, if we could teäke it right, - Do show He'll meäke his burdens light - To weaker souls; an' that his smile, - Is sweet upon a harmless chile, - When they be dead that loved it. - - WILLIAM BARNES - - - 303 GOLDEN SLUMBERS - - Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, - Smiles awake you when you rise. - Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry, - And I will sing a lullaby. - Rock them, rock them, lullaby. - - Care is heavy, therefore sleep you; - You are care, and care must keep you. - Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry, - And I will sing a lullaby: - Rock them, rock them, lullaby. - - THOMAS DEKKER - - - 304 MATER DOLOROSA - - I'd a dream to-night - As I fell asleep, - O! the touching sight - Makes me still to weep: - Of my little lad, - Gone to leave me sad, - Ay, the child I had, - But was not to keep. - - As in heaven high, - I my child did seek, - There in train came by - Children fair and meek, - Each in lily white, - With a lamp alight; - Each was clear to sight, - But they did not speak. - - Then, a little sad, - Came my child in turn, - But the lamp he had - O it did not burn! - He, to clear my doubt, - Said, half-turned about, - "Your tears put it out; - Mother, never mourn." - - WILLIAM BARNES - - - 305 WEEP YOU NO MORE - - Weep you no more, sad fountains! - What need you flow so fast? - Look how the snowy mountains - Heaven's sun doth gently waste! - But my sun's heavenly eyes - View not your weeping, - That now lies sleeping - Softly, now softly lies - Sleeping. - - Sleep is a reconciling, - A rest that peace begets: - Doth not the sun rise smiling - When fair at even he sets? - Rest you then, rest, sad eyes! - Melt not in weeping, - While she lies sleeping - Softly, now softly lies - Sleeping. - - - 306 FAERY SONG - - Shed no tear--O shed no tear! - The flower will bloom another year. - Weep no more--O weep no more! - Young buds sleep in the root's white core. - Dry your eyes--O dry your eyes! - For I was taught in Paradise - To ease my breast of melodies-- - Shed no tear. - - Overhead--look overhead - 'Mong the blossoms white and red-- - Look up, look up--I flutter now - On this flush pomegranate bough-- - See me--'tis this silvery bill - Ever cures the good man's ill-- - Shed no tear--O shed no tear! - The flower will bloom another year. - Adieu--Adieu--I fly, adieu, - I vanish in the heaven's blue-- - Adieu, Adieu! - - JOHN KEATS - - - 307 THE WORLD OF LIGHT - - They are all gone into the world of light! - And I alone sit lingering here; - Their very memory is fair and bright, - And my sad thoughts doth clear. - - It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast - Like stars upon some gloomy grove, - Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest - After the Sun's remove. - - I see them walking in an Air of glory, - Whose light doth trample on my days; - My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, - Mere glimmering and decays. - - O holy hope! and high humility, - High as the Heavens above! - These are your walks, and you have showed them me, - To kindle my cold love. - - Dear, beauteous Death! the Jewel of the Just! - Shining nowhere but in the dark; - What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, - Could man outlook that mark! - - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know - At first sight if the bird be flown; - But what fair Well, or Grove he sings in now, - That is to him unknown. - - And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams - Call to the soul, when man doth sleep, - So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, - And into glory peep.... - - HENRY VAUGHAN - - - 308 SILENT IS THE HOUSE - - Silent is the house: all are laid asleep: - One alone looks out o'er the snow-wreaths deep, - Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze - That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees. - - Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor; - Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door; - The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far: - I trim it well, to be the wanderer's guiding-star. - - Frown, my haughty sire; chide, my angry dame; - Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame! - But neither sire, nor dame, nor prying serf shall know, - What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow. - - What I love shall come like visitant of air, - Safe in secret power from lurking human snare; - What loves me, no word of mine shall e'er betray, - Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay. - - Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear-- - Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air: - He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me; - Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy. - - EMILY BRONTË - - - 309 THE MISTRESS OF VISION - - ... Secret was the garden; - Set i' the pathless awe - Where no star its breath can draw. - Life, that is its warden, - Sits behind the fosse of death. Mine eyes saw not, and I saw. - - It was a mazeful wonder; - Thrice three times it was enwalled - With an emerald-- - Sealèd so asunder. - All its birds in middle air hung a-dream, their music thralled. - - The Lady of fair weeping, - At the garden's core, - Sang a song of sweet and sore - And the after-sleeping; - In the land of Luthany, and the tracts of Elenore. - - With sweet-pangèd singing, - Sang she through a dream-night's day; - That the bowers might stay, - Birds bate their winging, - Nor the wall of emerald float in wreathèd haze away.... - - Her song said that no springing - Paradise but evermore - Hangeth on a singing - That has chords of weeping, - And that sings the after-sleeping - To souls which wake too sore. - "But woe the singer, woe!" she said; "beyond the dead his singing-lore, - All its art of sweet and sore - He learns, in Elenore!" - Where is the land of Luthany, - Where is the tract of Elenore? - I am bound therefor. - - "Pierce thy heart to find the key; - With thee take - Only what none else would keep; - Learn to dream when thou dost wake, - Learn to wake when thou dost sleep. - Learn to water joy with tears, - Learn from fears to vanquish fears; - To hope, for thou dar'st not despair, - Exult, for that thou dar'st not grieve; - Plough thou the rock until it bear; - Know, for thou else couldst not believe; - Lose, that the lost thou may'st receive; - Die, for none other way canst live. - When earth and heaven lay down their veil, - And that apocalypse turns thee pale; - When thy seeing blindeth thee - To what thy fellow-mortals see; - When their sight to thee is sightless; - Their living, death; their light, most lightless; - Search no more-- - Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore." - - Where is the land of Luthany, - And where the region Elenore? - I do faint therefor. - "When to the new eyes of thee - All things by immortal power, - Near or far, - Hiddenly - To each other linkèd are, - That thou canst not stir a flower - Without troubling of a star; - When thy song is shield and mirror - To the fair snake-curlèd Pain, - Where thou dar'st affront her terror - That on her thou may'st attain - Perséan conquest; seek no more, - O seek no more! - Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore." - - So sang she, so wept she, - Through a dream-night's day; - And with her magic singing kept she-- - Mystical in music-- - The garden of enchanting - In visionary May; - Songless from my spirits' haunting, - Thrice-threefold walled with emerald from our mortal mornings grey.... - - FRANCIS THOMPSON - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - FAR - - - 310 TOM O' BEDLAM - - The moon's my constant mistress, - And the lovely owl my marrow; - The flaming drake, - And the night-crow, make - Me music to my sorrow. - - I know more than Apollo; - For oft, when he lies sleeping, - I behold the stars - At mortal wars, - And the rounded welkin weeping. - - The moon embraces her shepherd, - And the Queen of Love her warrior; - While the first does horn - The stars of the morn, - And the next the heavenly farrier. - - With a heart of furious fancies, - Whereof I am commander: - With a burning spear, - And a horse of air, - To the wilderness I wander; - - With a Knight of ghosts and shadows, - I summoned am to Tourney: - Ten leagues beyond - The wide world's end; - Methinks it is no journey. - - - 311 THE NIGHT-PIECE - - Her Eyes the Glow-worme lend thee, - The Shooting Starres attend thee; - And the Elves also, - Whose little eyes glow, - Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. - - No _Will-o' th'-Wispe_ mis-light thee; - Nor Snake, or Slow-worme bite thee: - But on, on thy way - Not making a stay, - Since Ghost ther's none to affright thee. - - Let not the darke thee cumber; - What though the Moon does slumber? - The Starres of the night - Will lend thee their light, - Like Tapers cleare without number.... - - ROBERT HERRICK - - - 312 MY PLAID AWA' - - "My plaid awa', my plaid awa', - And ore the hill and far awa', - And far awa' to Norrowa, - My plaid shall not be blown awa'." - - The elphin knight sits on yon hill, - _Ba, ba, lilli ba_, - He blowes it east, he blowes it west, - He blowes it where he lyketh best ... - "My plaid awa', my plaid awa', - And ore the hill and far awa'." - - - 313 BUCKEE BENE - - Buckee, Buckee, biddy Bene, - Is the way now fair and clean? - Is the goose ygone to nest, - And the fox ygone to rest? - Shall I come away? - - - 314 WHAT'S IN THERE? - - Faht's in there? - Gold and money. - Fahr's[124] my share o't? - The moosie ran awa' wi't. - Fahr's the moosie? - In her hoosie. - Fahr's her hoosie? - In the wood. - Fahr's the wood? - The fire brunt it. - Fahr's the fire? - The water quencht it. - Fahr's the water? - The broon bull drank it. - Fahr's the broon bull? - Back a Burnie's hill. - Fahr's Burnie's hill? - A' claid wi' snaw. - Fahr's the snaw? - The sun meltit it. - Fahr's the sun? - Heigh, heigh up i' the air!" - - - 315 THE WEE WEE MAN - - As I was wa'king all alone, - Between a water and a wa', - And there I spy'd a Wee Wee Man, - And he was the least that ere I saw. - - His legs were scarce a shathmont's length - And thick and thimber was his thigh; - Between his brows there was a span, - And between his shoulders there was three. - - He took up a meikle stane, - And he flang't as far as I could see; - Though I had been a Wallace wight, - I couldna' liften't to my knee. - - "O Wee Wee Man, but thou be strang! - O tell me where thy dwelling be?" - "My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower; - O will you go with me and see?" - - On we lap, and awa' we rade, - Till we came to yon bonny green; - We lighted down for to bait our horse, - And out there came a lady fine. - - Four and twenty at her back, - And they were a' clad out in green; - Though the King of Scotland had been there, - The warst o' them might hae been his queen. - - On we lap, and awa' we rade, - Till we came to yon bonny ha', - Whare the roof was o' the beaten gould, - And the floor was o' the cristal a'. - - When we came to the stair-foot, - Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma', - But in the twinkling of an eye, - My Wee Wee Man was clean awa'. - - - 316 I SAW A PEACOCK - - I saw a peacock with a fiery tail - I saw a blazing comet drop down hail - I saw a cloud wrappèd with ivy round - I saw an oak creep on along the ground - I saw a pismire swallow up a whale - I saw the sea brim full of ale - I saw a Venice glass five fathom deep - I saw a well full of men's tears that weep - I saw red eyes all of a flaming fire - I saw a house bigger than the moon and higher - I saw the sun at twelve o'clock at night - I saw the Man that saw this wondrous sight. - - - 317 GIRAFFE AND TREE - - Upon a dark ball spun in Time - Stands a Giraffe beside a Tree: - Of what immortal stuff can that - The fading picture be? - - So, thought I, standing by my love - Whose hair, a small black flag, - Broke on the universal air - With proud and lovely brag: - - It waved among the silent hills, - A wind of shining ebony - In Time's bright glass, where mirrored clear - Stood the Giraffe beside a Tree. - - WALTER J. TURNER - - - 318 THE WATER LADY - - Alas, the moon should ever beam - To show what man should never see! - I saw a maiden on a stream, - And fair was she! - - I stayed awhile, to see her throw - Her tresses back, that all beset - The fair horizon of her brow - With clouds of jet. - - I stayed a little while to view - Her cheek, that wore in place of red - The bloom of water, tender blue, - Daintily spread. - - I stayed to watch, a little space, - Her parted lips if she would sing; - The waters closed above her face - With many a ring. - - And still I stayed a little more, - Alas! she never comes again; - I throw my flowers from the shore, - And watch in vain. - - I know my life will fade away, - I know that I must vainly pine, - For I am made of mortal clay, - But she's divine! - - THOMAS HOOD - - - 319 THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS - - I went out to the hazel wood, - Because a fire was in my head, - And cut and peeled a hazel wand, - And hooked a berry to a thread; - And when white moths were on the wing, - And moth-like stars were flickering out, - I dropped the berry in a stream - And caught a little silver trout. - - When I had laid it on the floor - I went to blow the fire a-flame, - But something rustled on the floor, - And someone called me by my name: - It had become a glimmering girl - With apple blossom in her hair - Who called me by my name and ran - And faded through the brightening air. - - Though I am old with wandering - Through hollow lands and hilly lands, - I will find out where she has gone, - And kiss her lips and take her hands; - And walk among long dappled grass, - And pluck till time and times are done - The silver apples of the moon, - The golden apples of the sun. - - W. B. YEATS - - - 320 THE WAY THROUGH THE WOODS - - They shut the road through the woods - Seventy years ago. - Weather and rain have undone it again, - And now you would never know - There was once a road through the woods - Before they planted the trees. - It is underneath the coppice and heath, - And the thin anemones. - Only the keeper sees - That, where the ring-dove broods, - And the badgers roll at ease, - There was once a road through the woods. - - Yet, if you enter the woods - Of a summer evening late, - When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools - Where the otter whistles his mate. - (They fear not men in the woods, - Because they see so few) - You will hear the beat of a horse's feet, - And the swish of a skirt in the dew, - Steadily cantering through - The misty solitudes, - As though they perfectly knew - The old lost road through the woods ... - But there is no road through the woods! - - RUDYARD KIPLING - - - 321 THE FALLOW DEER AT THE LONELY HOUSE - - One without looks in to-night - Through the curtain-chink - From the sheet of glistening white; - One without looks in to-night - As we sit and think - By the fender-brink. - - We do not discern those eyes - Watching in the snow; - Lit by lamps of rosy dyes - We do not discern those eyes - Wondering, aglow, - Fourfooted, tiptoe. - - THOMAS HARDY - - - 322 DEER - - Shy in their herding dwell the fallow deer. - They are spirits of wild sense. Nobody near - Comes upon their pastures. There a life they live, - Of sufficient beauty, phantom, fugitive, - Treading as in jungles free leopards do, - Printless as evelight, instant as dew. - The great kine are patient, and home-coming sheep - Know our bidding. The fallow deer keep - Delicate and far their counsels wild, - Never to be folded reconciled - To the spoiling hand as the poor flocks are; - Lightfoot, and swift, and unfamiliar, - These you may not hinder, unconfined - Beautiful flocks of the mind. - - JOHN DRINKWATER - - - 323 THE TWO SWANS - - (A FAIRY TALE) - - Immortal Imogen, crowned queen above - The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hear - A fairy dream in honour of true love-- - True above ills, and frailty, and all fear-- - Perchance a shadow of his own career - Whose youth was darkly prisoned and long twined - By serpent-sorrow, till white Love drew near, - And sweetly sang him free, and round his mind - A bright horizon threw, wherein no grief may wind. - - I saw a tower builded on a lake, - Mocked by its inverse shadow, dark and deep-- - That seemed a still intenser night to make, - Wherein the quiet waters sunk to sleep,-- - And, whatsoe'er was prisoned in that keep, - A monstrous Snake was warden:--round and round - In sable ringlets I beheld him creep, - Blackest amid black shadows, to the ground, - Whilst his enormous head the topmost turret crowned: - - From whence he shot fierce light against the stars, - Making the pale moon paler with affright; - And with his ruby eye out-threatened Mars-- - That blazed in the mid-heavens, hot and bright-- - Nor slept, nor winked, but with a steadfast spite - Watched their wan looks and tremblings in the skies; - And that he might not slumber in the night, - The curtain-lids were plucked from his large eyes, - So he might never drowse, but watch his secret prize. - - Prince or princess in dismal durance pent, - Victims of old Enchantment's love or hate, - Their lives must all in painful sighs be spent, - Watching the lonely waters soon and late, - And clouds that pass and leave them to their fate, - Or company their grief with heavy tears:-- - Meanwhile that Hope can spy no golden gate - For sweet escapement, but in darksome fears - They weep and pine away as if immortal years. - - No gentle bird with gold upon its wing - Will perch upon the grate--the gentle bird - Is safe in leafy dell, and will not bring - Freedom's sweet keynote and commission-word - Learned of a fairy's lips, for pity stirred-- - Lest while he trembling sings, untimely guest! - Watched by that cruel Snake and darkly heard, - He leave a widow on her lonely nest, - To press in silent grief the darlings of her breast. - - No gallant knight, adventurous, in his bark, - Will seek the fruitful perils of the place, - To rouse with dipping oar the waters dark - That bear that serpent-image on their face. - And Love, brave Love! though he attempt the base, - Nerved to his loyal death, he may not win - His captive lady from the strict embrace - Of that foul Serpent, clasping her within - His sable folds--like Eve enthralled by the old Sin. - - But there is none--no knight in panoply, - Nor Love, intrenched in his strong steely coat: - No little speck--no sail--no helper nigh, - No sign--no whispering--no plash of boat:-- - The distant shores show dimly and remote, - Made of a deeper mist,--serene and grey,-- - And slow and mute the cloudy shadows float - Over the gloomy wave, and pass away, - Chased by the silver beams that on their marges play. - - And bright and silvery the willows sleep - Over the shady verge--no mad winds tease - Their hoary heads; but quietly they weep - Their sprinkling leaves--half fountains and half trees: - There lilies be--and fairer than all these, - A solitary Swan her breast of snow - Launches against the wave that seems to freeze - Into a chaste reflection, still below, - Twin-shadow of herself wherever she may go. - - And forth she paddles in the very noon - Of solemn midnight, like an elfin thing - Charmed into being by the argent moon-- - Whose silver light for love of her fair wing - Goes with her in the shade, still worshipping - Her dainty plumage:--all around her grew - A radiant circlet, like a fairy ring; - And all behind, a tiny little clue - Of light, to guide her back across the waters blue. - - And sure she is no meaner than a fay - Redeemed from sleepy death, for beauty's sake, - By old ordainment:--silent as she lay, - Touched by a moonlight wand I saw her wake, - And cut her leafy slough and so forsake - The verdant prison of her lily peers, - That slept amidst the stars upon the lake-- - A breathing shape--restored to human fears, - And new-born love and grief--self-conscious of her tears. - - And now she clasps her wings around her heart, - And near that lonely isle begins to glide, - Pale as her fears, and oft-times with a start - Turns her impatient head from side to side - In universal terrors--all too wide - To watch; and often to that marble keep - Upturns her pearly eyes, as if she spied - Some foe, and crouches in the shadows steep - That in the gloomy wave go diving fathoms deep. - - And well she may, to spy that fearful thing - All down the dusky walls in circlets wound; - Alas! for what rare prize, with many a ring - Girding the marble casket round and round? - His folded tail, lost in the gloom profound, - Terribly darkeneth the rocky base; - But on the top his monstrous head is crowned - With prickly spears, and on his doubtful face - Gleam his unwearied eyes, red watchers of the place. - - Alas! of the hot fires that nightly fall, - No one will scorch him in those orbs of spite, - So he may never see beneath the wall - That timid little creature, all too bright, - That stretches her fair neck, slender and white, - Invoking the pale moon, and vainly tries - Her throbbing throat, as if to charm the night - With song--but, hush--it perishes in sighs, - And there will be no dirge sad-swelling, though she dies! - - She droops--she sinks--she leans upon the lake, - Fainting again into a lifeless flower; - But soon the chilly springs anoint and wake - Her spirit from its death, and with new power - She sheds her stifled sorrows in a shower - Of tender song, timed to her falling tears-- - That wins the shady summit of that tower, - And, trembling all the sweeter for its fears, - Fills with imploring moan that cruel monster's ears. - - And, lo! the scaly beast is all deprest, - Subdued like Argus by the might of sound-- - What time Apollo his sweet lute addrest - To magic converse with the air, and bound - The many monster eyes, all slumber-drowned:-- - So on the turret-top that watchful Snake - Pillows his giant head, and lists profound, - As if his wrathful spite would never wake, - Charmed into sudden sleep for Love and Beauty's sake! - - His prickly crest lies prone upon his crown, - And thirsty lip from lip disparted flies, - To drink that dainty flood of music down-- - His scaly throat is big with pent-up sighs-- - And whilst his hollow ear entrancèd lies, - His looks for envy of the charmèd sense - Are fain to listen, till his steadfast eyes, - Stung into pain by their own impotence, - Distil enormous tears into the lake immense. - - Oh, tuneful Swan! oh, melancholy bird! - Sweet was that midnight miracle of song, - Rich with ripe sorrow, needful of no word - To tell of pain, and love, and love's deep wrong-- - Hinting a piteous tale--perchance how long - Thy unknown tears were mingled with the lake, - What time disguised thy leafy mates among-- - And no eye knew what human love and ache - Dwelt in those dewy leaves, and heart so nigh to break. - - Therefore no poet will ungently touch - The water-lily, on whose eyelids dew - Trembles like tears; but ever hold it such - As human pain may wander through and through, - Turning the pale leaf paler in its hue-- - Wherein life dwells, transfigured, not entombed, - By magic spells. Alas! who ever knew - Sorrow in all its shades, leafy and plumed, - Or in gross husks of brutes eternally inhumed? - - And now the wingèd song has scaled the height - Of that dark dwelling, builded for despair, - And soon a little casement flashing bright - Widens self-opened into the cool air-- - That music like a bird may enter there - And soothe the captive in his stony cage; - For there is nought of grief, or painful care, - But plaintive song may happily engage - From sense of its own ill, and tenderly assuage. - - And forth into the light, small and remote, - A creature, like the fair son of a king, - Draws to the lattice in his jewelled coat - Against the silver moonlight glistening, - And leans upon his white hand listening - To that sweet music that with tenderer tone - Salutes him, wondering what kindly thing - Is come to soothe him with so tuneful moan, - Singing beneath the walls as if for him alone! - - And while he listens, the mysterious song, - Woven with timid particles of speech, - Twines into passionate words that grieve along - The melancholy notes, and softly teach - The secrets of true love,--that trembling reach - His earnest ear, and through the shadows dun - He missions like replies, and each to each - Their silver voices mingle into one, - Like blended streams that make one music as they run. - - "Ah, Love! my hope is swooning in my heart,--" - "Ay, sweet! my cage is strong and hung full high--" - "Alas! our lips are held so far apart, - Thy words come faint,--they have so far to fly!--" - "If I may only shun that serpent-eye!--" - "Ah me! that serpent-eye doth never sleep;--" - "Then nearer thee, Love's martyr, I will die!--" - "Alas, alas! that word has made me weep! - For pity's sake remain safe in thy marble keep!" - - "My marble keep! it is my marble tomb--" - "Nay, sweet! but thou hast there thy living breath--" - "Aye to expend in sighs for this hard doom;--" - "But I will come to thee and sing beneath, - And nightly so beguile this serpent wreath;--" - "Nay, I will find a path from these despairs." - "Ah! needs then thou must tread the back of death, - Making his stony ribs thy stony stairs.-- - Behold his ruby eye, how fearfully it glares!" - - Full sudden at these words, the princely youth - Leaps on the scaly back that slumbers, still - Unconscious of his foot, yet not for ruth, - But numbed to dulness by the fairy skill - Of that sweet music (all more wild and shrill - For intense fear) that charmed him as he lay-- - Meanwhile the lover nerves his desperate will, - Held some short throbs by natural dismay, - Then down the serpent-track begins his darksome way. - - Now dimly seen--now toiling out of sight, - Eclipsed and covered by the envious wall; - Now fair and spangled in the sudden light, - And clinging with wide arms for fear of fall: - Now dark and sheltered by a kindly pall - Of dusky shadow from his wakeful foe; - Slowly he winds adown--dimly and small, - Watched by the gentle Swan that sings below, - Her hope increasing, still, the larger he doth grow. - - But nine times nine the Serpent folds embrace - The marble walls about--which he must tread - Before his anxious foot may touch the base: - Long is the dreary path, and must be sped! - But Love, that holds the mastery of dread, - Braces his spirit, and with constant toil - He wins his way, and now, with arms outspread, - Impatient plunges from the last long coil: - So may all gentle Love ungentle Malice foil! - - The song is hushed, the charm is all complete, - And two fair Swans are swimming on the lake: - But scarce their tender bills have time to meet, - When fiercely drops adown that cruel Snake-- - His steely scales a fearful rustling make, - Like autumn leaves that tremble and foretell - The sable storm;--the plumy lovers quake-- - And feel the troubled waters pant and swell, - Heaved by the giant bulk of their pursuer fell. - - His jaws, wide yawning like the gates of Death, - His horrible pursuit--his red eyes glare - The waters into blood--his eager breath - Grows hot upon their plumes:--now, minstrel fair! - She drops her ring into the waves, and there - It widens all around, a fairy ring - Wrought of the silver light--the fearful pair - Swim in the very midst, and pant and cling - The closer for their fears, and tremble wing to wing. - - Bending their course over the pale grey lake, - Against the pallid East, wherein light played - In tender flushes, still the baffled Snake - Circled them round continually, and bayed - Hoarsely and loud, forbidden to invade - The sanctuary ring: his sable mail - Rolled darkly through the flood, and writhed and made - A shining track over the waters pale, - Lashed into boiling foam by his enormous tail. - - And so they sailed into the distance dim, - Into the very distance--small and white, - Like snowy blossoms of the spring that swim - Over the brooklets--followed by the spite - Of that huge Serpent, that with wild affright - Worried them on their course, and sore annoy, - Till on the grassy marge I saw them 'light, - And change, anon, a gentle girl and boy, - Locked in embrace of sweet unutterable joy! - - Then came the Morn, and with her pearly showers - Wept on them, like a mother, in whose eyes - Tears are no grief; and from his rosy bowers - The Oriental sun began to rise, - Chasing the darksome shadows from the skies; - Wherewith that sable Serpent far away - Fled, like a part of night--delicious sighs - From waking blossoms purified the day, - And little birds were singing sweetly from each spray. - - THOMAS HOOD - - - 324 THE EARL OF MAR'S DAUGHTER - - It was intill a pleasant time, - Upon a simmer's day, - The noble Earl of Mar's daughter - Went forth to sport and play. - - As thus she did amuse hersell, - Below a green aik tree, - There she saw a sprightly doo[125] - Set on a tower sae hie. - - "O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true, - If ye'll come down to me, - Ye'se hae a cage o' guid red gowd - Instead o' simple tree: - - "I'll put gowd hingers[126] roun' your cage, - And siller roun' your wa'; - I'll gar[127] ye shine as fair a bird - As ony o' them a'." - - But she hadnae these words well spoke, - Nor yet these words well said, - Till Cow-me-doo flew frae the tower - And lighted on her head. - - Then she has brought this pretty bird - Hame to her bowers and ha', - And made him shine as fair a bird - As ony o' them a'. - - When day was gane, and night was come, - About the evening tide - This lady spied a sprightly youth - Stand straight up by her side. - - "From whence came ye, young man?" she said; - "That does surprise me sair; - My door was bolted right secure, - What way hae ye come here?" - - "O had[128] your tongue, ye lady fair, - Lat a' your folly be; - Mind ye not on your turtle-doo - Last day ye brought wi' thee?" - - "O tell me mair, young man," she said, - "This does surprise me now; - What country hae ye come frae? - What pedigree are you?" - - "My mither lives on foreign isles, - She has nae mair but me; - She is a queen o' wealth and state, - And birth and high degree. - - "Likewise well skilled in magic spells, - As ye may plainly see, - And she transformed me to yon shape, - To charm such maids as thee. - - "I am a doo the live-lang day, - A sprightly youth at night; - This aye gars me appear mair fair - In a fair maiden's sight. - - "And it was but this verra day - That I came ower the sea; - Your lovely face did me enchant; - I'll live and dee wi' thee." - - "O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true, - Nae mair frae me ye'se gae"; - "That's never my intent, my luve, - As ye said, it shall be sae...." - - - 325 THE BROOMFIELD HILL - - _Brome, brome on hill,_ - _The gentle brome on hill, hill,_ - _Brome, brome on Hive hill,_ - _The gentle brome on Hive hill,_ - _The brome stands on Hive hill-a...._ - - "O where were ye, my milk-white steed, - That I hae coft[129] sae dear, - That wadna' watch and waken me - When there was maiden here?" - - "I stampèd wi' my foot, master, - And gard my bridle ring, - But na kin thing wald waken ye, - Till she was past and gane." - - "And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk, - That I did love sae dear, - That wadna' watch and waken me - When there was maiden here." - - "I clappèd wi' my wings, master, - And aye my bells I rang, - And aye cryed, Waken, waken, master, - Before the ladye gang." - - "But haste and haste, my guide white steed, - To come the maiden till, - Or a' the birds of gude green wood - Of your flesh shall have their fill." - - "Ye need no burst your gude white steed - Wi' racing o'er the howm;[130] - Nae bird flies faster through the wood, - Than she fled through the broom." - - - 326 THE CHANGELING - - Toll no bell for me, dear Father, dear Mother, - Waste no sighs; - There are my sisters, there is my little brother - Who plays in the place called Paradise, - Your children all, your children for ever; - But I, so wild, - Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never, - Never, I know, but half your child! - - In the garden at play, all day, last summer, - Far and away I heard - The sweet "tweet-tweet" of a strange new-comer, - The dearest, clearest call of a bird. - It lived down there in the deep green hollow, - My own old home, and the fairies say - The word of a bird is a thing to follow, - So I was away a night and a day. - - One evening, too, by the nursery fire, - We snuggled close and sat round so still, - When suddenly as the wind blew higher, - Something scratched on the window-sill, - A pinched brown face peered in--I shivered; - No one listened or seemed to see; - The arms of it waved and the wings of it quivered, - Whoo--I knew it had come for me! - Some are as bad as bad can be! - All night long they danced in the rain, - Round and round in a dripping chain, - Threw their caps at the window-pane, - Tried to make me scream and shout - And fling the bedclothes all about: - I meant to stay in bed that night, - And if only you had left a light - They would never have got me out! - - Sometimes I wouldn't speak, you see, - Or answer when you spoke to me, - Because in the long, still dusks of Spring - You can hear the whole world whispering; - The shy green grasses making love, - The feathers grow on the dear grey dove, - The tiny heart of the redstart beat, - The patter of the squirrel's feet, - The pebbles pushing in the silver streams, - The rushes talking in their dreams, - The swish-swish of the bat's black wings, - The wild-wood bluebell's sweet ting-tings, - Humming and hammering at your ear, - Everything there is to hear - In the heart of hidden things. - But not in the midst of the nursery riot, - That's why I wanted to be quiet, - Couldn't do my sums, or sing, - Or settle down to anything. - And when, for that, I was sent upstairs - I _did_ kneel down to say my prayers; - But the King who sits on your high church steeple - Has nothing to do with us fairy people! - - 'Times I pleased you, dear Father, dear Mother, - Learned all my lessons and liked to play, - And dearly I loved the little pale brother - Whom some other bird must have called away. - Why did they bring me here to make me - Not quite bad and not quite good, - Why, unless They're wicked, do They want, in spite, to take me - Back to Their wet, wild wood? - Now, every night I shall see the windows shining, - The gold lamp's glow, and the fire's red gleam, - While the best of us are twining twigs and the rest of us are whining - In the hollow by the stream. - Black and chill are Their nights on the wold; - And They live so long and They feel no pain: - I shall grow up, but never grow old, - I shall always, always be very cold, - I shall never come back again! - - CHARLOTTE MEW - - - 327 THE HOST OF THE AIR - - O'Driscoll drove with a song - The wild duck and the drake - From the tall and the tufted reeds - Of the drear Hart Lake. - - And he saw how the reeds grew dark - At the coming of night tide, - And dreamed of the long dim hair - Of Bridget his bride. - - He heard while he sang and dreamed - A piper piping away, - And never was piping so sad, - And never was piping so gay. - - And he saw young men and young girls - Who danced on a level place - And Bridget his bride among them, - With a sad and a gay face. - - The dancers crowded about him, - And many a sweet thing said, - And a young man brought him red wine - And a young girl white bread. - - But Bridget drew him by the sleeve, - Away from the merry bands, - To old men playing at cards - With a twinkling of ancient hands. - - The bread and the wine had a doom, - For these were the host of the air; - He sat and played in a dream - Of her long dim hair. - - He played with the merry old men - And thought not of evil chance, - Until one bore Bridget his bride - Away from the merry dance. - - He bore her away in his arms, - The handsomest young man there, - And his neck and his breast and his arms - Were drowned in her long dim hair. - - O'Driscoll scattered the cards - And out of his dream awoke: - Old men and young men and young girls - Were gone like a drifting smoke; - - But he heard high up in the air - A piper piping away, - And never was piping so sad, - And never was piping so gay. - - W. B. YEATS - - - 328 THE LOVE-TALKER - - I met the Love-Talker one eve in the glen, - He was handsomer than any of our handsome young men, - His eyes were blacker than the sloe, his voice sweeter far - Than the crooning of old Kevin's pipes beyond in Coolnagar. - - I was bound for the milking with a heart fair and free-- - My grief! my grief! that bitter hour drained the life from me; - I thought him human lover, though his lips on mine were cold, - And the breath of death blew keen on me within his hold. - - I know not what way he came, no shadow fell behind, - But all the sighing rushes swayed beneath a faery wind, - The thrush ceased its singing, a mist crept about, - We two clung together--with the world shut out. - - Beyond the ghostly mist I could hear my cattle low, - The little cow from Ballina, clean as driven snow, - The dun cow from Kerry, the roan from Inisheer, - Oh, pitiful their calling--and his whispers in my ear! - - His eyes were a fire; his words were a snare; - I cried my mother's name, but no help was there; - I made the blessed Sign; then he gave a dreary moan, - A wisp of cloud went floating by, and I stood alone. - - Running ever through my head, is an old-time rune-- - "Who meets the Love-Talker must weave her shroud soon." - My mother's face is furrowed with the salt tears that fall, - But the kind eyes of my father are the saddest sight of all. - - I have spun the fleecy lint, and now my wheel is still, - The linen length is woven for my shroud fine and chill, - I shall stretch me on the bed where a happy maid I lay-- - Pray for the soul of MairÄ— Og at dawning of the day! - - ETHNA CARBERY - - - 329 MARIANA - - With blackest moss the flower-plots - Were thickly crusted, one and all: - The rusted nails fell from the knots - That held the pear to the garden-wall. - The broken sheds looked sad and strange: - Unlifted was the clinking latch; - Weeded and worn the ancient thatch - Upon the lonely moated grange. - _She only said, "My life is dreary,_ - _He cometh not," she said;_ - _She said, "I am aweary, aweary,_ - _I would that I were dead!"_ - - Her tears fell with the dews at even; - Her tears fell ere the dews were dried; - She could not look on the sweet heaven, - Either at morn or eventide. - After the flitting of the bats, - When thickest dark did trance the sky, - She drew her casement-curtain by, - And glanced athwart the glooming flats. - _She only said, "The night is dreary,_ - _He cometh not," she said;_ - _She said, "I am aweary, aweary,_ - _I would that I were dead!"_ - - Upon the middle of the night, - Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: - The cock sung out an hour ere light: - From the dark fen the oxen's low - Came to her: without hope of change, - In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn, - Till cold winds woke the grey-eyed morn - About the lonely moated grange. - _She only said, "The day is dreary,_ - _He cometh not," she said;_ - _She said, "I am aweary, aweary,_ - _I would that I were dead!"_ - - About a stone-cast from the wall - A sluice with blackened waters slept, - And o'er it many, round and small, - The clustered marish-mosses crept. - Hard by a poplar shook alway, - All silver-green with gnarlèd bark: - For leagues no other tree did mark - The level waste, the rounding grey. - _She only said, "My life is dreary,_ - _He cometh not," she said;_ - _She said, "I am aweary, aweary,_ - _I would that I were dead!"_ - - And ever when the moon was low, - And the shrill winds were up and away, - In the white curtain, to and fro, - She saw the gusty shadow sway. - But when the moon was very low, - And wild winds bound within their cell, - The shadow of the poplar fell - Upon her bed, across her brow. - _She only said, "The night is dreary,_ - _He cometh not," she said;_ - _She said, "I am aweary, aweary,_ - _I would that I were dead!"_ - - All day within the dreamy house, - The doors upon their hinges creaked; - The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse - Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked, - Or from the crevice peered about. - Old faces glimmered thro' the doors, - Old footsteps trod the upper floors, - Old voices called her from without. - _She only said, "My life is dreary,_ - _He cometh not," she said;_ - _She said, "I am aweary, aweary,_ - _I would that I were dead!"_ - - The sparrow's chirrup on the roof, - The slow clock ticking, and the sound - Which to the wooing wind aloof - The poplar made, did all confound - Her sense; but most she loathed the hour - When the thick-moted sunbeam lay - Athwart the chambers, and the day - Was sloping toward his western bower. - _Then, said she, "I am very dreary,_ - _He will not come," she said;_ - _She wept, "I am aweary, aweary,_ - _Oh God, that I were dead!"_ - - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON - - - 330 KEITH OF RAVELSTON - - The murmur of the mourning ghost - That keeps the shadowy kine, - "Oh, Keith of Ravelston, - The sorrows of thy line!" - - Ravelston, Ravelston, - The merry path that leads - Down the golden morning hill, - And thro' the silver meads; - - Ravelston, Ravelston, - The stile beneath the tree, - The maid that kept her mother's kine, - The song that sang she! - - She sang her song, she kept her kine, - She sat beneath the thorn - When Andrew Keith of Ravelston - Rode thro' the Monday morn. - - His henchmen sing, his hawk-bells ring, - His belted jewels shine! - Oh, Keith of Ravelston, - The sorrows of thy line! - - Year after year, where Andrew came, - Comes evening down the glade, - And still there sits a moonshine ghost - Where sat the sunshine maid. - - Her misty hair is faint and fair, - She keeps the shadowy kine; - Oh, Keith of Ravelston, - The sorrows of thy line! - - I lay my hand upon the stile, - The stile is lone and cold, - The burnie that goes babbling by - Says naught that can be told. - - Yet, stranger! here, from year to year, - She keeps her shadowy kine; - Oh, Keith of Ravelston, - The sorrows of thy line! - - Step out three steps, where Andrew stood-- - Why blanch thy cheeks for fear? - The ancient stile is not alone, - 'Tis not the burn I hear! - - She makes her immemorial moan, - She keeps her shadowy kine; - Oh, Keith of Ravelston, - The sorrows of thy line! - - SYDNEY DOBELL - - - 331 UNWELCOME - - We were young, we were merry, we were very very wise, - And the door stood open at our feast, - When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes, - And a man with his back to the East. - - O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast, - The loudest voice was still. - The jest died away on our lips as they passed, - And the rays of July struck chill. - - The cups of red wine turned pale on the board, - The white bread black as soot. - The hound forgot the hand of her lord, - She fell down at his foot. - - Low let me lie, where the dead dog lies, - Ere I sit me down again at a feast, - When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes, - And a man with his back to the East. - - MARY COLERIDGE - - - 332 ON YES TOR - - Beneath our feet, the shuddering bogs - Made earthquakes of their own, - For greenish-grizzled furtive frogs - And lizards lithe and brown; - - And high to east and south and west, - Girt round the feet with gorse, - Lay, summering, breast by giant breast, - The titan brood of tors; - - Golden and phantom-pale they lay, - Calm in the cloudless light, - Like gods that, slumbering, still survey - The obsequious infinite. - - Plod, plod, through herbage thin or dense; - Past chattering rills of quartz; - Across brown bramble-coverts, whence - The shy black ouzel darts; - - Through empty leagues of broad, bare lands, - Beneath the empty skies, - Clutched in the grip of those vast hands, - Cowed by those golden eyes, - - We fled beneath their scornful stare, - Like terror-hunted dogs, - More timid than the lizards were, - And shyer than the frogs. - - EDMUND GOSSE - - - 333 THE WITCHES' SONG - - "I have beene all day looking after - A raven feeding upon a quarter; - And, soone as she turned her back to the south, - I snatched this morsell out of her mouth."... - - "I last night lay all alone - O' the ground, to heare the madrake grone; - And pluckt him up, though he grew full low: - And, as I had done, the cocke did crow."... - - "And I ha' been plucking (plants among) - Hemlock, henbane, adders-tongue, - Night-shade, moone-wort, libbards-bane; - And twise by the dogges was like to be tane."... - - "Yes: I have brought, to helpe your vows, - Hornèd poppie, cypresse boughes, - The fig-tree wild, that grows on tombes, - And juice that from the larch-tree comes, - The basiliske's bloud, and the viper's skin; - And now our orgies let's begin." - - BEN JONSON - - - 334 THE RAVEN - - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, - Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,-- - While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, - As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. - "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door; - Only this and nothing more." - - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, - And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. - Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow - From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore, - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: - Nameless here for evermore. - - And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain - Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; - So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, - "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-- - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is and nothing more." - - Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, - "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; - But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, - And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, - That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door:-- - Darkness there and nothing more. - - Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, - fearing, - Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; - But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, - And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" - This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore:" - Merely this and nothing more. - - Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, - Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. - "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; - Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore: - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more." - - Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, - In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. - Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; - But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door, - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door: - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. - - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling - By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,-- - "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no - craven, - Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" - Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." - - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, - Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore; - For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being - Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-- - Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, - With such name as "Nevermore." - - But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only - That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. - Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered, - Till I scarcely more than muttered,--"Other friends have flown - before; - On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before." - Then the bird said, "Nevermore." - - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, - "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, - Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster - Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: - Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore - Of 'Never--nevermore.'" - - But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, - Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and - door; - Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking - Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore - Meant in croaking "Nevermore." - - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing - To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; - This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining - On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, - But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er - She shall press, ah, nevermore! - - Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer - Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. - "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath - sent thee - Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! - Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!" - Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." - - "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether Tempter sent or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, - Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted, - On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore: - Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!" - Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." - - "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil prophet still, if bird or devil! - By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, - It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore: - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!" - Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." - - "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, - upstarting - "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! - Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! - Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! - Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my - door!" - Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." - - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting - On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; - And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, - And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the - floor; - And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor - Shall be lifted--nevermore! - - EDGAR ALLAN POE - - - 335 THE WITCH'S BALLAD - - O, I hae come from far away, - From a warm land far away, - A southern land across the sea, - With sailor-lads about the mast, - Merry and canny, and kind to me. - - And I hae been to yon town - To try my luck in yon town; - Nort, and Mysie, Elspie too. - Right braw we were to pass the gate, - Wi' gowden-clasps on girdles blue. - - Mysie smiled wi' miminy mouth, - Innocent mouth, miminy mouth; - Elspie wore a scarlet gown. - Nort's grey eyes were unco' gleg.[131] - My Castile comb was like a crown. - - We walk'd abreast all up the street, - Into the market up the street; - Our hair with marigolds was wound, - Our bodices with love-knots laced, - Our merchandise with tansy bound. - - Nort had chickens, I had cocks; - Gamesome cocks, loud-crowing cocks; - Mysie ducks, and Elspie drakes,-- - For a wee groat or a pound - We lost nae time wi' gives and takes. - - --Lost nae time for well we knew, - In our sleeves full well we knew, - When the gloaming came that night, - Duck nor drake, nor hen nor cock - Would be found by candle-light. - - And when our chaffering all was done, - All was paid for, sold and done, - We drew a glove on ilka hand, - We sweetly curtsied, each to each. - And deftly danced a saraband. - - The market-lassies looked and laughed, - Left their gear, and looked and laughed; - They made as they would join the game, - But soon their mithers, wild and wud,[132] - With whack and screech they stopped the same. - - Sae loud the tongues o' randies[133] grew, - The flytin'[134] and the skirlin' grew, - At all the windows in the place, - Wi' spoons or knives, wi' needle or awl, - Was thrust out every hand and face. - - And down each stair they thronged anon, - Gentle, semple, thronged anon; - Souter[135] and tailor, frowsy Nan, - The ancient widow young again, - Simpering behind her fan. - - Without a choice, against their will, - Doited,[136] dazed, against their will, - The market lassie and her mither, - The farmer and his husbandman, - Hand in hand dance a' thegither. - - Slow at first, but faster soon, - Still increasing, wild and fast, - Hoods and mantles, hats and hose, - Blindly doffed and cast away, - Left them naked, heads and toes. - - They would have torn us limb from limb, - Dainty limb from dainty limb; - But never one of them could win - Across the line that I had drawn - With bleeding thumb a-widdershin. - - But there was Jeff the provost's son, - Jeff the provost's only son; - There was Father Auld himsel', - The Lombard frae the hostelry, - And the lawyer Peter Fell. - - All goodly men we singled out, - Waled[137] them well, and singled out, - And drew them by the left hand in; - Mysie the priest, and Elspie won - The Lombard, Nort the lawyer carle, - I mysel' the provost's son. - - Then, with cantrip[138] kisses seven, - Three times round with kisses seven, - Warped and woven there spun we - Arms and legs and flaming hair, - Like a whirlwind on the sea. - - Like a wind that sucks the sea, - Over and in and on the sea, - Good sooth it was a mad delight; - And every man of all the four - Shut his eyes and laughed outright. - - Laughed as long as they had breath, - Laughed while they had sense or breath; - And close about us coiled a mist - Of gnats and midges, wasps and flies, - Like the whirlwind shaft it rist. - - Drawn up I was right off my feet, - Into the mist and off my feet; - And, dancing on each chimney-top, - I saw a thousand darling imps - Keeping time with skip and hop. - - And on the provost's brave ridge-tile, - On the provost's grand ridge-tile, - The Blackamoor first to master me - I saw, I saw that winsome smile, - The mouth that did my heart beguile, - And spoke the great Word over me, - In the land beyond the sea. - - I called his name, I called aloud, - Alas! I called on him aloud; - And then he filled his hand with stour,[139] - And threw it towards me in the air; - My mouse flew out, I lost my pow'r! - - My lusty strength, my power were gone; - Power was gone, and all was gone. - He will not let me love him more! - Of bell and whip and horse's tail - He cares not if I find a store. - - But I am proud if he is fierce! - I am as proud as he is fierce; - I'll turn about and backward go, - If I meet again that Blackamoor, - And he'll help us then, for he shall know - I seek another paramour. - - And we'll gang once more to yon town, - Wi' better luck to yon town; - We'll walk in silk and cramoisie, - And I shall wed the provost's son - My lady of the town I'll be! - - For I was born a crowned king's child, - Born and nursed a king's child, - King o' a land ayont the sea, - Where the Blackamoor kissed me first, - And taught me art and glamourie. - - Each one in her wame shall hide - Her hairy mouse, her wary mouse, - Fed on madwort and agramie,-- - Wear amber beads between her breasts, - And blind-worm's skin about her knee. - - The Lombard shall be Elspie's man, - Elspie's gowden husband-man; - Nort shall take the lawyer's hand; - The priest shall swear another vow; - We'll dance again the saraband! - - WILLIAM BELL SCOTT - - - 336 ANNAN WATER - - Annan Water's wading deep, - "And my Love Annie's wondrous bonny; - And I am loath she should wet her feet, - Because I love her best of ony." - - He's loupen on his bonny gray, - He rode the right gate[140] and the ready;[141] - For all the storm he wadna stay, - For seeking of his bonny lady. - - And he has ridden o'er field and fell, - Through moor, and moss, and many a mire; - His spurs of steel were sair to bide, - And from her four feet flew the fire. - - "My bonny gray, now play your part! - If ye be the steed that wins my dearie, - With corn and hay ye'll be fed for aye, - And never spur shall make you wearie." - - The gray was a mare, and a right gude mare; - But when she wan the Annan Water, - She should not have ridden the ford that night - Had a thousand marks been wadded at her. - - "O boatman, boatman, put off your boat, - Put off your boat for golden money!" - But for all the gold in fair Scotland, - He dared not take him through to Annie. - - "O I was sworn so late yestreen, - Not by a single oath, but mony! - I'll cross the drumly stream to-night, - Or never could I face my honey." - - The side was steep, and the bottom deep, - From bank to brae the water pouring; - The bonny gray mare she swat for fear, - For she heard the Water-Kelpy roaring. - - He spurred her forth into the flood, - I wot she swam both strong and steady; - But the stream was broad, and her strength did fail, - And he never saw his bonny lady! - - - 337 SONG - - Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh: - The sun has left the lea, - The orange flower perfumes the bower, - The breeze is on the sea, - The lark, his lay who thrilled all day, - Sits hushed his partner nigh: - Breeze, bird, and flower, confess the hour, - But where is County Guy?-- - - The village maid steals through the shade, - Her shepherd's suit to hear; - To beauty shy, by lattice high, - Sings high-born Cavalier; - The star of Love, all stars above, - Now reigns o'er earth and sky, - And high and low the influence know-- - But where is County Guy? - - SIR WALTER SCOTT - - - 338 DEADMAN'S DIRGE - - Prayer unsaid, and Mass unsung, - Deadman's dirge must still be rung: - _Dingle-dong_, the dead-bells sound! - Mermen chant his dirge around! - - Wash him bloodless, smooth him fair, - Stretch his limbs, and sleek his hair: - _Dingle-dong_, the dead-bells go! - Mermen swing them to and fro! - - In the wormless sand shall he - Feast for no foul glutton be: - _Dingle-dong_, the dead-bells chime! - Mermen keep the tone and time! - - We must with a tombstone brave - Shut the shark out from his grave: - _Dingle-dong_, the dead-bells toll! - Mermen dirgers ring his knoll! - - Such a slab will we lay o'er him, - All the dead shall rise before him: - _Dingle-dong_, the dead-bells boom! - Mermen lay him in his tomb! - - GEORGE DARLEY - - - 339 BOATS AT NIGHT - - How lovely is the sound of oars at night - And unknown voices, borne through windless air, - From shadowy vessels floating out of sight - Beyond the harbour lantern's broken glare - To those piled rocks that make on the dark wave - Only a darker stain. The splashing oars - Slide softly on as in an echoing cave - And with the whisper of the unseen shores - Mingle their music, till the bell of night - Murmurs reverberations low and deep - That droop towards the land in swooning flight - Like whispers from the lazy lips of sleep. - The oars grow faint. Below the cloud-dim hill - The shadows fade and now the bay is still. - - EDWARD SHANKS - - - 340 A VOICE SINGS - - Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell, - Lest a blacker charm compel! - So shall the midnight breezes swell - With thy deep long-lingering knell. - - And at evening evermore, - In a chapel on the shore, - Shall the chaunters, sad and saintly, - Yellow tapers burning faintly, - Doleful masses chaunt for thee, - _Miserere Domine!_ - - Hark, the cadence dies away - On the quiet moonlight sea: - The boatmen rest their oars; and say, - _Miserere Domine!_ - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - 341 THE WANDERING SPECTRE - - Wae's me, wae's me, - The acorn's not yet - Fallen from the tree - That's to grow the wood, - That's to make the cradle, - That's to rock the bairn, - That's to grow a man, - That's to lay me. - - - 342 LUCIFER IN STARLIGHT - - On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose. - Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend - Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened, - Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose. - Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those. - And now upon his western wing he leaned, - Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands careened, - Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows. - Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars - With memory of the old revolt from Awe, - He reached a middle height, and at the stars, - Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank. - Around the ancient track marched rank on rank, - The army of unalterable law. - - GEORGE MEREDITH - - - 343 THERE WAS A KNIGHT - - There was a knicht riding frae the east, - _Jennifer gentle an' rosemaree_. - Who had been wooing at monie a place, - _As the doo[142] flies owre the mulberry tree_. - - He cam' unto a widow's door, - And speird[143] whare her three dochters were. - - "The auldest ane's to a washing gane, - The second's to a baking gane." - - "The youngest ane's to a wedding gane, - And it will be nicht or[144] she be hame." - - He sat him doun upon a stane, - Till thir three lasses cam' tripping hame. - - The auldest ane she let him in, - And pinned the door wi' a siller pin. - - The second ane she made his bed, - And laid saft pillows unto his head. - - The youngest ane was bauld[145] and bricht, - And she tarried for words wi' this unco knicht.-- - - "Gin ye will answer me questions ten, - The morn ye sall me made my ain:-- - - "O what is higher nor[146] the tree? - And what is deeper nor the sea? - - "Or what is heavier nor the lead? - And what is better nor the bread? - - "Or what is whiter nor the milk? - Or what is safter nor the silk? - - "Or what is sharper nor a thorn? - Or what is louder nor a horn? - - "Or what is greener nor the grass? - Or what is waur[147] nor a woman was?" - - "O heaven is higher nor the tree, - And hell is deeper nor the sea. - - "O sin is heavier nor the lead, - The blessing's better nor the bread. - - "The snaw is whiter nor the milk, - And the down is safter nor the silk. - - "Hunger is sharper nor a thorn, - And shame is louder nor a horn. - - "The pies are greener nor the grass, - And Clootie's waur nor a woman was." - - As sune as she the fiend did name, - _Jennifer gentle an' rosemaree_, - He flew awa' in a blazing flame, - _As the doo flies owre the mulberry tree_. - - - 344 THE FALSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD - - "O whare are ye gaun?" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "I'm gaun to the scule." - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - "What is that upon your back?" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "Atweel[148] it is my bukes." - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - "What's that ye've got in your arm?" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "Atweel it is my peit."[149] - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - "Wha's aucht[150] they sheep?" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "They're mine and my mither's." - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - "How monie o' them are mine?" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "A' they that hae blue tails." - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - "I wiss ye were on yon tree:" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "And a gude ladder under me." - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - "And the ladder for to break:" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "And you for to fa' down." - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - "I wiss ye were in yon sie:" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "And a gude bottom[151] under me." - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - "And the bottom for to break:" - _Quo' the fause knicht upon the road_: - "And ye to be drowned." - _Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude_. - - - 345 CHRISTABEL - - 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, - And the owls have awakened the crowing cock; - _Tu-whit!----Tu-whoo!_ - And hark, again! the crowing cock, - How drowsily it crew. - - Sir Leoline, the Baron rich, - Hath a toothless mastiff bitch; - From her kennel beneath the rock - She maketh answer to the clock, - Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour; - Ever and aye, by shine and shower, - Sixteen short howls, not over loud; - Some say, she sees my lady's shroud. - - Is the night chilly and dark? - The night is chilly, but not dark. - The thin gray cloud is spread on high, - It covers but not hides the sky. - The moon is behind, and at the full; - And yet she looks both small and dull. - The night is chill, the cloud is gray: - 'Tis a month before the month of May, - And the Spring comes slowly up this way. - - The lovely lady, Christabel, - Whom her father loves so well, - What makes her in the wood so late, - A furlong from the castle gate? - She had dreams all yesternight - Of her own betrothèd knight; - And she in the midnight wood will pray - For the weal of her lover that's far away. - - She stole along, she nothing spoke, - The sighs she heaved were soft and low, - And naught was green upon the oak - But moss and rarest mistletoe: - She kneels beneath the huge oak tree, - And in silence prayeth she. - - The lady sprang up suddenly, - The lovely lady, Christabel! - It moaned as near, as near can be, - But what it is she cannot tell.-- - On the other side it seems to be, - Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree. - - The night is chill; the forest bare; - Is it the wind that moaneth bleak? - There is not wind enough in the air - To move away the ringlet curl - From the lovely lady's cheek-- - There is not wind enough to twirl - The one red leaf, the last of its clan, - That dances as often as dance it can, - Hanging so light, and hanging so high, - On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky. - - Hush, beating heart of Christabel! - Jesu, Maria, shield her well! - She folded her arms beneath her cloak, - And stole to the other side of the oak. - What sees she there? - - There she sees a damsel bright, - Drest in a silken robe of white, - That shadowy in the moonlight shone: - The neck that made that white robe wan-- - Her stately neck, and arms were bare; - Her blue-veined feet unsandaled were, - And wildly glittered here and there - The gems entangled in her hair.... - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - - 346 THE FRUIT PLUCKER - - Encinctured with a twine of leaves, - That leafy twine his only dress, - A lovely Boy was plucking fruits, - By moonlight, in a wilderness. - The moon was bright, the air was free, - And fruits and flowers together grew - On many a shrub and many a tree: - And all put on a gentle hue, - Hanging in the shadowy air - Like a picture rich and rare. - It was a climate where, they say, - The night is more beloved than day. - But who that beauteous Boy beguiled, - That beauteous Boy to linger here? - Alone, by night, a little child, - In place so silent and so wild-- - Has he no friend, no loving mother near? - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - - 347 THE HAUNTED PALACE - - In the greenest of our valleys - By good angels tenanted, - Once a fair and stately palace-- - Radiant palace--reared its head. - In the monarch Thought's dominion - It stood there! - Never seraph spread a pinion - Over fabric half so fair. - - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, - On its roof did float and flow, - (This--all this--was in the olden - Time long ago), - And every gentle air that dallied - In that sweet day, - Along the ramparts plumed and pallid - A wingèd odour went away. - - Wanderers, in that happy valley, - Through two luminous windows saw - Spirits moving musically, - To a lute's well-tunèd law, - Round about a throne, where sitting - (Porphyrogene), - In state his glory well befitting, - The ruler of the realm was seen. - - And all with pearl and ruby glowing - Was the fair palace door, - Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, - And sparkling evermore, - A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty - Was but to sing, - In voices of surpassing beauty, - The wit and wisdom of their king. - - But evil things, in robes of sorrow, - Assailed the monarch's high estate. - (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow - Shall dawn upon him desolate!) - And round about his home, the glory, - That blushed and bloomed, - Is but a dim-remembered story - Of the old time entombed. - - And travellers, now, within that valley, - Through the red-litten windows see - Vast forms, that move fantastically - To a discordant melody; - While, like a ghastly rapid river, - Through the pale door - A hideous throng rush out for ever, - And laugh--but smile no more. - - EDGAR ALLAN POE - - - 348 THE HOUSE OF RICHESSE - - NEIGHBOURING THE GATE OF HELL INTO WHICH MAMMON LED THE ELFIN - KNIGHT - - ... That houses forme within was rude and strong, - Like an huge cave, hewne out of rocky clift, - From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong, - Embost with massy gold of glorious gift, - And with rich metall loaded every rift, - That heavy ruine they did seeme to threat; - And over them _Arachne_ high did lift - Her cunning web, and spred her subtile net, - Enwrappèd in fowle smoke and clouds more blacke then jet. - - Both roofe, and floore, and wals were all of gold, - But overgrowne with dust and old decay, - And hid in darkenesse, that none could behold - The hew thereof: for vew of chearefull day - Did never in that house it selfe display, - But a faint shadow of uncertain light; - Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away: - Or as the Noone cloathèd with clowdy night, - Does shew to him that walkes in feare and sad affright. - - In all that rowme was nothing to be seene, - But huge great yron chests and coffers strong, - All bard with double bends,[152] that none could weene - Them to efforce by violence or wrong; - On every side they placèd were along. - But all the ground with sculs was scatterèd, - And dead mens bones, which round about were flong, - Whose lives, it seemèd, whilome there were shed, - And their vile carcases now left unburièd.... - - EDMUND SPENSER - - - 349 THE OLD CITY - - Thou hast come from the old city, - From the gate and the tower, - From King and priest and serving man - And burnished bower, - From beggar's whine and barking dogs, - From prison sealed-- - Thou hast come from the old city - Into the field. - - The gables in the old city - Are stooping awry, - They gloom upon the muddy lanes - And smother the sky, - And nightly through those mouldy lanes, - Moping and slow, - They who builded the old city - The cold ghosts go. - - There is plague in the old city, - And the priests are sped - To graveyard and vault - To bury the dead; - Brittle bones and dusty breath - To death must yield-- - Fly, fly, from the old city - Into the field! - - RUTH MANNING-SANDERS - - - 350 THE TWO SPIRITS - - _First Spirit._ O Thou, who plumed with strong desire - Wouldst float above the earth, beware! - A shadow tracks the flight of fire-- - Night is coming! - Bright are the regions of the air, - And among the winds and beams - It were delight to wander there-- - Night is coming! - - _Second Spirit._ The deathless stars are bright above; - If I would cross the shade of night, - Within my heart is the lamp of love, - And that is day! - And the moon will smile with gentle light - On my golden plumes where'er they move; - The meteors will linger round my flight; - And make night day. - - _First Spirit._ But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken - Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain; - See, the bounds of the air are shaken-- - Night is coming! - The red swift clouds of the hurricane - Yon declining sun have overtaken, - The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain-- - Night is coming! - - _Second Spirit._ I see the light, and I hear the sound; - I'll sail on the flood of the tempests dark, - With the calm within and the light around - Which makes night day: - And then, when the gloom is deep and stark, - Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound; - My moon-like flight thou then may'st mark - On high, far away. - - Some say there is a precipice - Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin - O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice - 'Mid Alpine mountains; - And that the languid storm pursuing - That wingèd shape, for ever flies - Round those hoar branches, aye renewing - Its aëry fountains. - - Some say, when nights are dry and clear, - And the death-dews sleep on the morass, - Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller, - Which make night day; - And a silver shape, like his early love, doth pass - Up-borne by her wild and glittering hair, - And when he awakes on the fragrant grass, - He finds night day. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - "LILY BRIGHT AND SHINE-A" - - - 351 SILLY SWEETHEART - - Silly Sweetheart, say not nay, - Come away: - All I tell is sweet and merry; - Soon rings evensong, and soon - Where was blossom hangs a berry; - Where was darkness shines a moon. - Prythee, Sweetheart, then I say, - Come, come away. - - O away, - Come away: - Maids there are with cheeks like roses, - Thine are roses in the snow. - Fie, the lass whose dainty nose is - Tilted not as one I know. - Nought heeds she, Alackaday! - My, Come, come away. - - O away, - Come away: - Honeycomb by bees made sweet is; - Dew on apple, bloom on plum; - Hearken, my heart's lightest beat is - Drumming, drumming; haste and come - Say not nay, then; - Make no stay, then; - Dance thy dainty foot and straying - Come, come away! - - - 352 HERE COMES A LUSTY WOOER - - "Here comes a lusty wooer, - _My a dildin, my a daldin_; - Here comes a lusty wooer, - _Lily bright and shine-a_." - - "Pray who do you woo? - _My a dildin, my a daldin_; - Pray who do you woo? - _Lily bright and shine-a_." - - "Woo! Your fairest daughter! - _My a dildin, my a daldin_; - Woo! your fairest daughter! - _Lily bright and shine-a_." - - "There! there! she is for you, - _My a dildin, my a daldin_; - There! there! she is for you, - _Lily bright and shine-a_." - - - 353 THREE KNIGHTS FROM SPAIN - - We are three Brethren come from Spain, - _All in French garlands_; - We are come to court your daughter Jane, - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - My daughter Jane!--she is too young, - _All in French garlands_; - She cannot bide your flattering tongue, - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - Be she young, or be she old, - _All in French garlands_; - 'Tis for a bride she must be sold, - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - A bride, a bride, she shall not be - _All in French garlands_; - Till she go through this world with me, - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - Then shall you keep your daughter Jane, - _All in French garlands_; - Come once, we come not here again, - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - Turn back, turn back, you Spanish Knights, - _All in French garlands_; - Scour, scour your spurs, till they be bright, - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - Sharp shine our spurs, all richly wrought, - _All in French garlands_; - In towns afar our spurs were bought - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - Smell my lilies, smell my roses, - _All in French garlands_; - Which of my maidens do you choose? - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - Not she. Not she. Thy youngest, Jane! - _All in French garlands_; - We ride--and ride not back again, - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - In every pocket a thousand pound, - _All in French garlands_; - On every finger a gay gold ring, - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - _And adieu to you, my darlings_. - - - 354 THE WHUMMIL BORE - - Seven lang years I hae served the King, - _Fa fa fa fa lilly_: - And I never got a sight of his daughter but ane: - _With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle_, - _Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally_. - - I saw her thro' a whummil bore, - _Fa fa fa fa lilly_: - And I ne'er got a sight of her no more. - _With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle_, - _Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally_. - - Twa was putting on her gown, - _Fa fa fa fa lilly_: - And ten was putting pins therein. - _With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle_. - _Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally._ - - Twa was putting on her shoon, - _Fa fa fa fa lilly_: - And twa was buckling them again. - _With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle_. - _Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally._ - - Five was combing down her hair, - _Fa fa fa fa lilly_: - And I ne'er got a sight of her nae mair. - _With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle_, - _Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally_. - - Her neck and breast was like the snow, - _Fa fa fa fa lilly_: - Then from the bore I was forced to go. - _With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle_, - _Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally_. - - - 355 HEY, WULLY WINE - - Hey, Wully wine, and How, Wully wine, - I hope for hame ye'll no' incline; - Ye'll better light, and stay a' night, - And I'll gie thee a lady fine. - - I maun ride hame, I maun gang hame, - And bide nae langer here; - The road is lang, the mirk soon on, - And howlets mak' me fear. - - Light down, and bide wi' us a' night, - We'll choose for ye a bonnie lass, - Ye'll get your wield and pick o' them a' - And the time it soon awa' will pass. - - Wha will ye gie, if I wi' ye bide, - To be my bonny bonny bride, - And lie down lovely by my side? - - I'll gie thee Kate o' Dinglebell, - A bonny body like yersell. - - I'll stick her high in yon pear-tree - Sweet and meek, and sae is she: - I' lo'ed her ance, but she's no' for me, - Yet I thank ye for your courtesy. - - I'll gie thee Rozie o' the Cleugh, - I'm sure she'll please thee weel eneugh. - - Up wi' her on the bare bane dyke, - She'll be rotten or[153] I'll be ripe: - She's made for some ither, and no' me, - Yet I thank ye for your courtesy. - - Then I'll gie ye Nell o' sweet Sprinkell, - Owre Galloway she bears the bell. - - I'll set her up in my bed-head, - And feed her wi' new milk and bread; - She's for nae ither, but just for me, - Sae I thank ye for your courtesy. - - - 356 DOWN IN YONDER MEADOW - - Down in yonder meadow where the green grass grows, - Pretty Pollie Pillicote bleaches her clothes. - She sang, she sang, she sang, oh, so sweet, - She sang, _Oh, come over!_ across the street. - He kissed her, he kissed her, he bought her a gown, - A gown of rich cramasie out of the town. - He bought her a gown and a guinea gold ring, - A guinea, a guinea, a guinea gold ring; - Up street, and down, shine the windows made of glass, - Oh, isn't Pollie Pillicote a braw young lass? - Cherries in her cheeks, and ringlets her hair, - Hear her singing _Handy, Dandy_ up and down the stair. - - - 357 QUOTH JOHN TO JOAN - - Quoth John to Joan, will thou have me: - I prithee now, wilt? and I'll marry thee, - My cow, my calf, my house, my rents, - And all my lands and tenements: - Oh, say, my Joan, will not that do? - I cannot come every day to woo. - - I've corn and hay in the barn hard-by, - And three fat hogs pent up in the sty, - I have a mare and she is coal black, - I ride on her tail to save my back. - Then, say, my Joan, will not that do? - I cannot come every day to woo. - - I have a cheese upon the shelf, - And I cannot eat it all myself; - I've three good marks that lie in a rag, - In a nook of the chimney, instead of a bag. - Then, say, my Joan, will not that do? - I cannot come every day to woo. - - To marry I would have thy consent, - But faith I never could compliment; - I can say nought but "Hoy, gee ho!" - Words that belong to the cart and the plough. - Oh, say, my Joan, will not that do? - I cannot come every day to woo. - - - 358 MY MISTRESS IS AS FAIR AS FINE - - My mistress is as fair as fine, - Milk-white fingers, cherry nose. - Like twinkling day-stars look her eyne, - Lightening all things where she goes. - Fair as Phoebe, though not so fickle, - Smooth as glass, though not so brickle. - - My heart is like a ball of snow - Melting at her lukewarm sight; - Her fiery lips like night-worms glow, - Shining clear as candle-light. - Neat she is, no feather lighter; - Bright she is, no daisy whiter. - - - 359 DIAPHENIA - - Diaphenia, like the daffdowndilly, - White as the sun, fair as the lily, - Heigh ho, how I do love thee! - I do love thee as my lambs - Are belovèd of their dams-- - How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me. - - Diaphenia, like the spreading roses, - That in thy sweets all sweets encloses, - Fair sweet, how I do love thee! - I do love thee as each flower - Loves the sun's life-giving power, - For, dead, thy breath to life might move me. - - Diaphenia, like to all things blessèd, - When all thy praises are expressèd, - Dear joy, how I do love thee! - As the birds do love the Spring, - Or the bees their careful king. - Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me! - - HENRY CONSTABLE - - - 360 AEGLAMOUR'S LAMENT - - Here she was wont to go, and here, and here! - Just where those daisies, pinks, and violets grow: - The world may find the spring by following her; - For other print her airy steps ne'er left: - Her treading would not bend a blade of grass, - Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk; - But like the soft west-wind she shot along; - And where she went, the flowers took thickest root - As she had sowed them with her odourous foot. - - BEN JONSON - - - 361 MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART - - My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, - By just exchange one for the other given; - I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss; - There never was a better bargain driven. - - His heart in me keeps me and him in one, - My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; - He loves my heart, for once it was his own; - I cherish his because in me it bides. - - His heart his wound receivèd from my sight, - My heart was wounded with his wounded heart; - For as from me on him his heart did light, - So still methought in me his heart did smart. - - Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss, - My true love hath my heart, and I have his. - - SIR PHILIP SIDNEY - - - 362 A BIRTHDAY - - My heart is like a singing bird - Whose nest is in a watered shoot; - My heart is like an apple-tree - Whose boughs are bent with thickest fruit. - My heart is like a rainbow shell - That paddles in a halcyon sea; - My heart is gladder than all these - Because my love is come to me. - - Raise me a dais of silk and down; - Hang it with vair and purple dyes; - Carve it in doves and pomegranates, - And peacocks with a hundred eyes; - Work it in gold and silver grapes, - In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys; - Because the birthday of my life - Is come, my love is come to me. - - CHRISTINA ROSSETTI - - - 363 LIFE OF LIFE - - "VOICE IN THE AIR, SINGING" - - Life of Life! thy lips enkindle - With their love the breath between them; - And thy smiles before they dwindle - Make the cold air fire; then screen them - In those looks, where whoso gazes - Faints, entangled in their mazes. - - Child of Light! thy limbs are burning - Through the vest which seeks to hide them; - As the radiant lines of morning - Through the clouds ere they divide them; - And this atmosphere divinest - Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest. - - Fair are others; none beholds thee, - But thy voice sounds low and tender - Like the fairest, for it folds thee - From the sight, that liquid splendour, - And all feel, yet see thee never, - As I feel now, lost for ever! - - Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movest - Its dim shapes are clad with brightness, - And the souls of whom thou lovest - Walk upon the winds with lightness, - Till they fail, as I am failing, - Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing! - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 364 A SONNET OF THE MOON - - Look how the pale Queen of the silent night - Doth cause the ocean to attend upon her, - And he, as long as she is in his sight, - With his full tide is ready her to honour: - - But when the silver waggon of the Moon - Is mounted up so high he cannot follow, - The sea calls home his crystal waves to moan, - And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow. - - So you that are the sovereign of my heart, - Have all my joys attending on your will, - My joys low-ebbing when you do depart, - When you return, their tide my heart doth fill. - - So as you come, and as you do depart, - Joys ebb and flow within my tender heart. - - CHARLES BEST - - - 365 THE OUTLAW OF LOCH LENE - - O many a day have I made good ale in the glen, - That came not of stream or malt, like the brewing of men: - My bed was the ground; my roof, the green-wood above; - And the wealth that I sought, one far kind glance from my Love. - - Alas, on that night when the horses I drove from the field - That I was not near from terror my angel to shield! - She stretched forth her arms; her mantle she flung to the wind, - And swam o'er Loch Lene, her outlawed lover to find. - - O would that a freezing sleet-winged tempest did sweep, - And I and my love were alone, far off on the deep; - I'd ask not a ship, or a bark, or a pinnace, to save-- - With her hand round my waist, I'd fear not the wind or the wave. - - 'Tis down by the lake where the wild tree fringes its sides, - The maid of my heart, my fair one of Heaven resides: - I think, as at eve she wanders its mazes among, - The birds go to sleep by the sweet wild twist of her song. - - JEREMIAH JOHN CALLANAN - - - 366 O WHAT IF THE FOWLER - - O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken? - The roses of dawn blossom over the sea; - Awaken, my blackbird, awaken, awaken, - And sing to me out of my red fuchsia tree! - - O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken? - The sun lifts his head from the lip of the sea-- - Awaken, my blackbird, awaken, awaken, - And sing to me out of my red fuchsia tree! - - O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken? - The mountain grows white with the birds of the sea; - But down in my garden forsaken, forsaken, - I'll weep all the day by my red fuchsia tree! - - CHARLES DALMON - - - 367 WHITHER AWAY? - - "Where are you going, Master mine?" - "Mistress of mine, farewell! - Pledge me a cup of golden wine! - Light shall be dark and darkness shine - Before I tell!" - - "O go you by the firwoods blue? - And by the Fairies' Trysting Tree?" - "No, for the path is grown with rue - And nightshade's purple fruit, since you - Walked there with me!" - - "O go you by the pastures high-- - A grassy road and daisies fair?" - "No, for I saw them fade and die - On the bright evening, love, that I - Sat with you there." - - MARY COLERIDGE - - - 368 BONNY BARBARA ALLAN - - It was in and about the Martinmas time, - When the green leaves were a falling, - That Sir John Graeme, in the West Country, - Fell in love with Barbara Allan. - - He sent his man down through the town, - To the place where she was dwelling: - "O haste and come to my master dear, - Gin ye be Barbara Allan." - - O hooly, hooly[154] rose she up, - To the place where he was lying, - And when she drew the curtain by;-- - "Young man, I think you're dying." - - "O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick, - And 't is a' for Barbara Allan."-- - "O the better for me ye's never be, - Tho your heart's blood were a spilling. - - "O dinna ye mind, young man," said she, - "When ye was in the tavern a-drinking, - That ye made the healths gae round and round, - And slighted Barbara Allan?" - - He turned his face unto the wall, - And death was with him dealing: - "Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, - And be kind to Barbara Allan." - - She had not gane a mile but twa, - When she heard the dead-bell ringing, - And every jow that the dead-bell gied, - It cryed, _Woe to Barbara Allan_! - - "O mother, mother, make my bed! - O make it saft and narrow! - Since my love died for me to-day, - I'll die for him to-morrow." - - - 369 PROUD MAISIE - - Proud Maisie is in the wood, - Walking so early; - Sweet Robin sits on the bush, - Singing so rarely. - - "Tell me, thou bonny bird, - When shall I marry me?" - "When six braw gentlemen - Kirkward shall carry ye." - - "Who makes the bridal bed, - Birdie, say truly?" - "The grey-headed sexton - That delves the grave duly." - - "The glowworm o'er grave and stone - Shall light thee steady; - The owl from the steeple sing - Welcome, proud lady." - - SIR WALTER SCOTT - - - 370 A LEAVE TAKING - - Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear. - Let us go hence together without fear; - Keep silence now, for singing-time is over, - And over all old things and all things dear. - She loves not you nor me as all we love her. - Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear, - She would not hear. - - Let us rise up and part; she will not know. - Let us go seaward as the great winds go, - Full of blown sand and foam; what help is here? - There is no help, for all these things are so, - And all the world is bitter as a tear. - And how these things are, though ye strove to show, - She would not know. - - Let us go home and hence; she will not weep. - We gave love many dreams and days to keep, - Flowers without scent, and fruits that would not grow, - Saying, "If thou wilt, thrust in thy sickle and reap." - All is reaped now; no grass is left to mow; - And we that sowed, though all we fell on sleep, - She would not weep. - - Let us go hence and rest; she will not love. - She shall not hear us if we sing hereof, - Nor see love's ways, how sore they are and steep. - Come hence, let be, lie still; it is enough. - Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep; - And though she saw all heaven in flower above, - She would not love. - - Let us give up, go down; she will not care. - Though all the stars made gold of all the air, - And the sea moving saw before it move - One moon-flower making all the foam-flowers fair; - Though all those waves went over us, and drove - Deep down the stifling lips and drowning hair, - She would not care. - - Let us go hence, go hence; she will not see. - Sing all once more together; surely she, - She, too, remembering days and words that were, - Will turn a little toward us, sighing; but we, - We are hence, we are gone, as though we had not been there. - Nay, and though all men seeing had pity on me, - She would not see. - - ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE - - - 371 THE UNQUIET GRAVE - - "The wind doth blow to-day, my love, - And a few small drops of rain; - I never had but one true love, - In cold grave she was lain. - - "I'll do as much for my true love - As any young man may; - I'll sit and mourn all at her grave - For a twelvemonth and a day." - - The twelvemonth and a day being up, - The dead began to speak: - "Oh who sits weeping on my grave, - And will not let me sleep?" - - "'Tis I, my love, sits on your grave, - And will not let you sleep; - For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, - And that is all I seek." - - "You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips; - But my breath smells earthy strong; - If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, - Your time will not be long. - - "'Tis down in yonder garden green, - Love, where we used to walk, - The finest flower that ere was seen - Is withered to a stalk. - - "The stalk is withered dry, my love, - So will our hearts decay; - So make yourself content, my love, - Till God calls you away." - - - 372 A LAMENT: 1547 - - "Departe, departe, departe-- - Allace! I most departe - From hir that hes my hart, - With hairt full soir; - Aganis my will in deid, - And can find no remeid: - I wait the pains of deid-- - Can do no moir.... - - "Adew, my ain sueit thing, - My joy and comforting, - My mirth and sollesing - Of erdly gloir: - Fair weill, my lady bricht, - And my remembrance rycht; - Fair weill and haif gud nycht: - I say no moir." - - ALEXANDER SCOTT - - - 373 I DIED TRUE - - Lay a garland on my hearse - Of the dismal yew; - Maidens, willow branches bear; - Say I died true. - - My love was false, but I was firm - From my hour of birth. - Upon my buried body lie - Lightly, gentle earth! - - JOHN FLETCHER - - - 374 SONG - - How should I your true love know - From another one? - By his Cockle hat and staffe, - And his Sandal shoone. - - He is dead and gone Lady, - He is dead and done,-- - At his head a grasse-greene Turfe, - At his heeles a stone. - - White his Shrowd as the Mountain Snow, - Larded with sweet flowers: - Which bewept to the grave did not go, - With true-love showres. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 375 IT WAS THE TIME OF ROSES - - It was not in the winter - Our loving lot was cast: - It was the time of roses-- - We plucked them as we passed! - - That churlish season never frowned - On early lovers yet! - O, no--the world was newly crowned - With flowers, when first we met. - - 'Twas twilight, and I bade you go, - But still you held me fast: - It was the time of roses-- - We plucked them as we passed."... - - THOMAS HOOD - - - 376 AULD ROBIN GRAY - - When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye[155] at hame, - And a' the warld to rest are gane, - The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, - While my gudeman[156] lies sound by me. - - Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride, - But saving a croun he had naething else beside: - To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea, - And the croun and the pund were baith for me. - - He hadna been awa a week but only twa, - When my father brak his arm, and the cow was stown awa; - My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea-- - And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me. - - My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin; - I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win; - Auld Rob maintained them baith, and wi' tears in his e'e - Said:--"Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me!" - - My heart it said nay; I look'd for Jamie back; - But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack; - His ship it was a wrack.... Why didna Jamie dee? - Or why do I live to cry, Wae's me? - - My father urgit sair: my mother didna speak, - But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break: - They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea, - Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. - - I hadna been a wife a week but only four, - When, mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door, - I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he-- - Till he said:--"I'm come hame to marry thee." - - O, sair, sair did we greet,[157] and muckle[158] did we say; - We took but ae kiss, and I bad him gang away; - I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee, - And why was I born to say, Wae's me! - - I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin; - I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin; - But I'll do my best a gude wife ay to be, - For auld Robin Gray, he is kind unto me. - - LADY ANNE LINDSAY - - - 377 THE LAWLANDS O' HOLLAND - - "The love that I hae chosen, - I'll therewith be content; - The saut sea sall be frozen - Before that I repent. - Repent it sall I never - Until the day I dee; - But the Lawlands o' Holland - Hae twinned my love and me. - - "My love he built a bonny ship, - And set her to the main, - Wi' twenty-four brave mariners - To sail her out and hame. - But the weary wind began to rise, - The sea began to rout, - And my love and his bonny ship - Turned withershins about. - - "There sall nae mantle cross my back, - No kaim gae in my hair, - Neither sall coal nor candle-light - Shine in my bower mair; - Nor sall I choose anither love, - Until the day I dee, - Sin' the Lawlands o' Holland, - Hae twinned my love and me." - - "Noo haud your tongue, my daughter dear, - Be still, and bide content; - There's ither lads in Galloway; - Ye needna sair lament." - "O there is nane in Galloway, - There's nane at a' for me. - I never lo'ed a lad but ane, - And he's drowned in the sea." - - - 378 THE CHURCHYARD ON THE SANDS - - My love lies in the gates of foam, - The last dear wreck of shore; - The naked sea-marsh binds her home, - The sand her chamber door. - - The gray gull flaps the written stones, - The ox-birds chase the tide; - And near that narrow field of bones - Great ships at anchor ride. - - Black piers with crust of dripping green, - One foreland, like a hand, - O'er intervals of grass between - Dim lonely dunes of sand. - - A church of silent weathered looks, - A breezy reddish tower, - A yard whose wounded resting-nooks - Are tinged with sorrel flower. - - In peace the swallow's eggs are laid - Along the belfry walls; - The tempest does not reach her shade, - The rain her silent halls. - - But sails are sweet in summer sky, - The lark throws down a lay; - The long salt levels steam and dry, - The cloud-heart melts away. - - And patches of the sea-pink shine, - The pied crows poise and come; - The mallow hangs, the bind-weeds twine, - Where her sweet lips are dumb. - - The passion of the wave is mute; - No sound or ocean shock; - No music save the thrilling flute - That marks the curlew flock.... - - LORD DE TABLEY - - - 379 ROSE AYLMER - - Ah, what avails the sceptred race, - Ah, what the form divine! - What every virtue, every grace! - Rose Aylmer, all were thine. - Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes - May weep, but never see, - A night of memories and sighs - I consecrate to thee. - - WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR - - - 380 TO HELEN - - Helen, thy beauty is to me - Like those Nicæan barks of yore, - That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, - The weary, wayworn wanderer bore - To his own native shore. - - On desperate seas long wont to roam, - Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, - Thy Naiad air, have brought me home - To the glory that was Greece - And the grandeur that was Rome. - - Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche - How statue-like I see thee stand, - The agate lamp within thy hand! - Ah, Psyche, from the regions which - Are Holy Land! - - EDGAR ALLAN POE - - - 381 "THERE IS A LADY SWEET AND KIND" - - There is a Lady sweet and kind, - Was never face so pleased my mind; - I did but see her passing by, - And yet I love her till I die. - - Her gesture, motion, and her smiles, - Her wit, her voice, my heart beguiles, - Beguiles my heart, I know not why, - And yet I love her till I die.... - - Cupid is wingèd and doth range, - Her country so my love doth change: - But change she earth, or change she sky, - Yet will I love her till I die. - - THOMAS FORD - - - 382 "LOVE NOT ME FOR COMELY GRACE" - - Love not me for comely grace, - For my pleasing eye or face, - Nor for any outward part: - No, nor for my constant heart! - For these may fail or turn to ill: - So thou and I shall sever: - Keep therefore a true woman's eye, - And love me still, but know not why! - So hast thou the same reason still - To doat upon me ever. - - - 383 NOW WOLDE - - Now wolde I faine some merthÄ—s[159] make, - All only for my lady sake, - When her I see; - But now I am so far fro her - It will not be. - - Though I be far out of her sight - I am her man both day and night - And so will be. - Therefore wolde; as I love her, - She lovèd me. - - When she is mery, then I am glad; - When she is sory, then I am sad; - And causÄ— why,[160] - For he liveth not that loveth her - As well as I. - - She saith that she hath seen it written - That "seldom seen is soon forgotten"; - It is not so. - For in good feith, save only her, - I love no mo.[161] - - - 384 EGYPT'S MIGHT IS TUMBLED DOWN - - Egypt's might is tumbled down - Down a-down the deeps of thought; - Greece is fallen and Troy town, - Glorious Rome hath lost her crown, - Venice' pride is nought. - - But the dreams their children dreamed - Fleeting, unsubstantial, vain, - Shadowy as the shadows seemed, - Airy nothing, as they deemed, - These remain. - - MARY COLERIDGE - - - 385 DREAM LOVE - - Young Love lies sleeping - In May-time of the year. - Among the lilies, - Lapped in the tender light: - White lambs come grazing, - White doves come building there; - And round about him - The May-bushes are white. - - Soft moss the pillow - For oh, a softer cheek; - Broad leaves cast shadow - Upon the heavy eyes: - There winds and waters - Grow lulled and scarcely speak; - There twilight lingers - The longest in the skies. - - Young Love lies dreaming; - But who shall tell the dream? - A perfect sunlight - On rustling forest tips; - Or perfect moonlight - Upon a rippling stream; - Or perfect silence, - Or song of cherished lips. - - Burn odours round him - To fill the drowsy air; - Weave silent dances - Around him to and fro; - For oh, in waking - The sights are not so fair, - And song and silence - Are not like these below. - - Young Love lies dreaming - Till summer days are gone,-- - Dreaming and drowsing - Away to perfect sleep: - He sees the beauty - Sun hath not looked upon, - And tastes the fountain - Unutterably deep. - - Him perfect music - Doth hush unto his rest, - And through the pauses - The perfect silence calms. - Oh, poor the voices - Of earth from east to west, - And poor earth's stillness - Between her stately palms. - - Young Love lies drowsing - Away to poppied death; - Cool shadows deepen - Across the sleeping face: - So fails the summer - With warm, delicious breath; - And what hath autumn - To give us in its place? - - Draw close the curtains - Of branched evergreen; - Change cannot touch them - With fading fingers sere: - Here the first violets - Perhaps will bud unseen, - And a dove, may be, - Return to nestle here. - - CHRISTINA ROSSETTI - - - 386 AT COMMON DAWN - - At common dawn there is a voice of bird - So sweet, 'tis kin to pain; - For love of earthly life it needs be heard, - And lets not sleep again. - - This bird I did one time at midnight hear - In wet November wood - Say to himself his lyric faint and clear - As one at daybreak should. - - He ceased; the covert breathed no other sound, - Nor moody answer made; - But all the world at beauty's worship found, - Was waking in the glade. - - VIVIAN LOCKE ELLIS - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - "ECHO THEN SHALL AGAIN TELL HER I FOLLOW." - - - 387 GLYCINE'S SONG - - A sunny shaft did I behold, - From sky to earth it slanted: - And poised therein a bird so bold-- - Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted! - - He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled - Within that shaft of sunny mist; - His eyes of fire, his beak of gold, - All else of amethyst! - - And thus he sang: "Adieu! adieu! - Love's dreams prove seldom true. - The blossoms, they make no delay: - The sparkling dew-drops will not stay. - Sweet month of May, - We must away; - Far, far away! - To-day! to-day!" - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - - 388 THE CRYSTAL CABINET - - The Maiden caught me in the wild, - Where I was dancing merrily; - She put me into her Cabinet, - And locked me up with a golden key. - - This Cabinet is formed of Gold - And Pearl and Crystal shining bright, - And within it opens into a World - And a little lovely Moony Night. - - Another England there I saw - Another London with its Tower, - Another Thames and other Hills, - And another pleasant Surrey Bower. - - Another Maiden like herself, - Translucent, lovely, shining clear, - Threefold each in the other closed-- - O, what a pleasant trembling fear! - - O, what a smile! a Threefold Smile - Filled me, that like a flame I burned; - I bent to kiss the lovely Maid, - And found a Threefold Kiss returned. - - I strove to seize the inmost form - With ardour fierce and hands of flame, - But burst the Crystal Cabinet, - And like a Weeping Babe became-- - - A Weeping Babe upon the wild, - And Weeping Woman pale reclined, - And in the outward air again - I filled with woes the passing wind. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 389 THE CHASE - - Art thou gone in haste? - I'll not forsake thee; - Runn'st thou ne'er so fast? - I'll overtake thee: - O'er the dales, o'er the downs, - Through the green meadows, - From the fields through the towns, - To the dim shadows. - - - All along the plain, - To the low fountains, - Up and down again - From the high mountains; - Echo then shall again - Tell her I follow, - And the floods to the woods - Carry my holla! - _Holla!_ - _Ce! la! ho! ho! hu!_ - - WILLIAM ROWLEY - - - 390 TONY O! - - Over the bleak and barren snow - A voice there came a-calling; - "Where are you going to, Tony O! - Where are you going this morning?" - - "I am going where there are rivers of wine, - The mountains bread and honey; - There Kings and Queens do mind the swine, - And the poor have all the money." - - COLIN FRANCIS - - - 391 ROMANCE - - When I was but thirteen or so - I went into a golden land, - Chimborazo, Cotopaxi - Took me by the hand. - - My father died, my brother too, - They passed like fleeting dreams. - I stood where Popocatapetl - In the sunlight gleams. - - I dimly heard the master's voice - And boys far-off at play, - Chimborazo, Cotopaxi - Had stolen me away. - - I walked in a great golden dream - To and fro from school-- - Shining Popocatapetl - The dusty streets did rule. - - I walked home with a gold dark boy, - And never a word I'd say, - Chimborazo, Cotopaxi - Had taken my speech away: - - I gazed entranced upon his face - Fairer than any flower-- - O shining Popocatapetl - It was thy magic hour: - - The houses, people, traffic seemed - Thin fading dreams by day, - Chimborazo, Cotopaxi - They had stolen my soul away! - - WALTER J. TURNER - - - 392 HALLO MY FANCY - - In melancholic fancy, - Out of myself, - In the vulcan dancy, - All the world surveying, - Nowhere staying, - Just like a fairy elf; - Out o'er the tops of highest mountains skipping, - Out o'er the hill, the trees and valleys tripping, - Out o'er the ocean seas, without an oar or shipping,-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_ - - Amidst the misty vapours - Fain would I know - What doth cause the tapers; - Why the clouds benight us - And affright us. - While we travel here below; - Fain would I know what makes the roaring thunder, - And what these lightnings be that rend the clouds asunder, - And what these comets are on which we gaze and wonder-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_ - - Fain would I know the reason, - Why the little ant, - All the summer season, - Layeth up provision - On condition - To know no winter's want. - And how housewives, that are so good and painful, - Do unto their husbands prove so good and gainful; - And why the lazy drones to them do prove disdainful-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_... - - Amidst the foamy ocean, - Fain would I know - What doth cause the motion, - And returning - In its journeying, - And doth so seldom swerve? - And how the little fishes that swim beneath salt waters, - Do never blind their eye; methinks it is a matter - An inch above the reach of old Erra Pater!-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_ - - Fain would I be resolvèd - How things are done; - And where the bull was calvèd - Of bloody Phalaris, - And where the tailor is - That works to the man i' the moon! - Fain would I know how Cupid aims so rightly; - And how the little fairies do dance and leap so lightly, - And where fair Cynthia makes her ambles nightly-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_ - - In conceit like Phaeton - I'll mount Phoebus' chair - Having ne'er a hat on, - All my hair a-burning - In my journeying; - Hurrying through the air. - Fain would I hear his fiery horses neighing - And see how they on foamy bits are playing, - All the stars and planets I will be surveying!-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_ - - O from what ground of nature - Doth the pelican, - That self devouring creature - Prove so forward - And untoward, - Her vitals for to strain! - And why the subtle fox, while in death's wounds a-lying, - Do not lament his pangs by howling and by crying, - And why the milk-swan doth sing when she's a-dying-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_ - - Fain would I conclude this, - At least make essay; - What similitude is: - Why fowls of a feather - Flock and fly together, - And lambs know beasts of prey; - How Nature's alchemists, these small laborious creatures, - Acknowledge still a prince in ordering their matters, - And suffer none to live who slothing lose their features-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_... - - To know this world's centre - Height, depth, breadth and length, - Fain would I adventure - To search the hid attractions - Of magnetic actions - And adamantine strength. - Fain would I know, if in some lofty mountain, - Where the moon sojourns, if there be tree or fountain; - If there be beasts of prey, or yet be fields to hunt in-- - _Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?_... - - Hallo my fancy, hallo, - Stay, stay at home with me, - I can no longer follow, - For thou hast betrayed me, - And bewrayed me; - It is too much for thee. - Stay, stay at home with me, leave off thy lofty soaring; - Stay then at home with me, and on thy books be poring; - For he that goes abroad, lays little up in storing-- - Thou'rt welcome my fancy, welcome home to me. - - WILLIAM CLELAND - - - 393 SONNET - - There was an Indian, who had known no change, - Who strayed content along a sunlit beach - Gathering shells. He heard a sudden strange - Commingled noise: looked up; and gasped for speech. - For in the bay, where nothing was before, - Moved on the sea, by magic, huge canoes, - With bellying clothes on poles, and not one oar, - And fluttering coloured signs and clambering crews. - - And he, in fear, this naked man alone, - His fallen hands forgetting all their shells, - His lips gone pale, knelt low behind a stone, - And stared, and saw, and did not understand, - Columbus's doom-burdened caravels - Slant to the shore, and all their seamen land. - - J. C. SQUIRE - - - 394 ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER - - Much have I travelled in the realms of gold, - And many goodly states and kingdoms seen: - Round many western islands have I been - Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. - - Oft of one wide expanse had I been told - That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne; - Yet did I never breathe its pure serene - Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: - - Then felt I like some watcher of the skies - When a new planet swims into his ken; - Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes - - He stared at the Pacific--and all his men - Looked at each other with a wild surmise-- - Silent, upon a peak in Darien. - - JOHN KEATS - - - 395 "TO SEA" - - To sea, to sea! The calm is o'er; - The wanton water leaps in sport, - And rattles down the pebbly shore; - The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort, - And unseen Mermaids' pearly song - Comes bubbling up, the weeds among. - Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar: - To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er. - - To sea, to sea! our wide-winged bark - Shall billowy cleave its sunny way, - And with its shadow, fleet and dark, - Break the caved Tritons' azure day, - Like mighty eagle soaring light - O'er antelopes on Alpine height. - The anchor heaves, the ship swings free, - The sails swell full: To sea, to sea! - - THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES - - - 396 BERMUDAS - - Where the remote Bermudas ride, - In the Ocean's bosom unespied, - From a small boat, that rowed along, - The listening winds received this song: - - "What should we do but sing His praise, - That led us through the watery maze, - Unto an isle so long unknown, - And yet far kinder than our own? - Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks - That lift the deep upon their backs, - He lands us on a grassy stage, - Safe from the storms' and prelates' rage: - He gave us this eternal Spring - Which here enamels everything, - And sends the fowls to us in care - On daily visits through the air: - He hangs in shades the orange bright, - Like golden lamps in a green night, - And does in the pomegranates close - Jewels more rich than Ormus shows; - He makes the figs our mouths to meet, - And throws the melons at our feet; - But apples plants of such a price - No tree could ever bear them twice. - With cedars, chosen by His hand - From Lebanon, He stores the land, - And makes the hollow seas, that roar, - Proclaim the ambergris on shore. - He cast (of which we rather boast) - The Gospel's pearl upon our coast; - And in these rocks for us did frame - A temple where to sound His name. - Oh! let our voice His praise exalt, - Till it arrive at Heaven's vault, - Which, thence (perhaps) rebounding, may - Echo beyond the Mexique bay." - - Thus sung they, in the English boat, - A holy and a cheerful note; - And all the way, to guide their chime, - With falling oars they kept the time. - - ANDREW MARVELL - - - 397 THE OLD SHIPS - - I have seen old ships sail like swans asleep - Beyond the village which men still call Tyre, - With leaden age o'ercargoed, dipping deep - For Famagusta and the hidden sun - That rings black Cyprus with a lake of fire; - And all those ships were certainly so old-- - Who knows how oft with squat and noisy gun - Questing brown slaves or Syrian oranges, - The pirate Genoese - Hell-raked them till they rolled - Blood, water, fruit and corpses up the hold. - But now through friendly seas they softly run, - Painted the mid-sea blue or shore-sea green, - Still patterned with the vine and grapes in gold. - - But I have seen - Pointing her shapely shadows from the dawn - And image tumbled on a rose-swept bay - A drowsy ship of some yet older day; - And, wonder's breath indrawn, - Thought I--who knows--who knows--but in that same - (Fished up beyond Aeaea, patched up new - --Stern painted brighter blue--) - That talkative, bald-headed seaman came - (Twelve patient comrades sweating at the oar) - From Troy's doom-crimson shore, - And with great lies about his wooden horse - Set the crew laughing, and forgot his course. - It was so old a ship--who knows, who knows? - --And yet so beautiful, I watched in vain - To see the mast burst open with a rose, - And the whole deck put on its leaves again. - - JAMES ELROY FLECKER - - - 398 THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER - - IN SEVEN PARTS - - ARGUMENT: _How a Ship having passed the Line is driven by - storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how - from thence she made her course to the Tropical Latitude - of the great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that - befell; and in what manner the Ancient Mariner came back to - his own Country._ - - - PART I - - It is an ancient Mariner, - And he stoppeth one of three. - "By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, - Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? - - The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, - And I am next of kin; - The guests are met, the feast is set: - May'st hear the merry din." - - He holds him with his skinny hand, - "There was a ship," quoth he. - "Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!" - Eftsoons his hand dropt he. - - He holds him with his glittering eye-- - The Wedding-Guest stood still, - And listens like a three years' child: - The Mariner hath his will. - - The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: - He cannot choose but hear; - And thus spake on that ancient man, - The bright-eyed Mariner. - - "The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, - Merrily did we drop - Below the kirk, below the hill, - Below the lighthouse top. - - The Sun came up upon the left, - Out of the sea came he! - And he shone bright, and on the right - Went down into the sea. - - Higher and higher every day, - Till over the mast at noon--" - The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, - For he heard the loud bassoon. - - The bride hath paced into the hall, - Red as a rose is she; - Nodding their heads before her goes - The merry minstrelsy. - - The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, - Yet he cannot choose but hear; - And thus spake on that ancient man, - The bright-eyed Mariner. - - "And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he - Was tyrannous and strong: - He struck with his o'ertaking wings, - And chased us south along. - - With sloping masts and dipping prow, - As who pursued with yell and blow - Still treads the shadow of his foe, - And forward bends his head, - The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, - And southward aye we fled. - - And now there came both mist and snow, - And it grew wondrous cold: - And ice, mast-high, came floating by, - As green as emerald. - - And through the drifts the snowy clifts - Did send a dismal sheen: - Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken-- - The ice was all between. - - The ice was here, the ice was there, - The ice was all around: - It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, - Like noises in a swound! - - At length did cross an Albatross, - Thorough the fog it came; - As if it had been a Christian soul, - We hailed it in God's name. - - It ate the food it ne'er had eat, - And round and round it flew. - The ice did split with a thunder-fit; - The helmsman steered us through! - - And a good south wind sprung up behind; - The Albatross did follow, - And every day, for food or play, - Came to the mariner's hollo! - - In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, - It perched for vespers nine; - Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, - Glimmered the white Moon-shine." - - "God save thee, ancient Mariner! - From the fiends, that plague thee thus!-- - Why look'st thou so?" - --"With my cross-bow - I shot the ALBATROSS." - - - PART II - - The Sun now rose upon the right: - Out of the sea came he, - Still hid in mist, and on the left - Went down into the sea. - - And the good south wind still blew behind, - But no sweet bird did follow, - Nor any day for food or play - Came to the mariners' hollo! - - And I had done a hellish thing, - And it would work 'em woe: - For all averred, I had killed the bird - That made the breeze to blow. - Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, - That made the breeze to blow! - - Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, - The glorious Sun uprist: - Then all averred, I had killed the bird - That brought the fog and mist. - 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, - That bring the fog and mist. - - The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew. - The furrow followed free; - We were the first that ever burst - Into that silent sea. - - Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, - 'Twas sad as sad could be; - And we did speak only to break - The silence of the sea! - - All in a hot and copper sky, - The bloody Sun, at noon, - Right up above the mast did stand, - No bigger than the Moon. - - Day after day, day after day, - We stuck, nor breath nor motion; - As idle as a painted ship - Upon a painted ocean. - - Water, water, every where, - And all the boards did shrink; - Water, water, every where, - Nor any drop to drink. - - The very deep did rot: O Christ! - That ever this should be! - Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs - Upon the slimy sea. - - About, about, in reel and rout - The death-fires danced at night; - The water, like a witch's oils, - Burnt green, and blue, and white. - - And some in dreams assurèd were - Of the Spirit that plagued us so; - Nine fathom deep he had followed us - From the land of mist and snow. - - And every tongue, through utter drought, - Was withered at the root; - We could not speak, no more than if - We had been choked with soot. - - Ah! well a-day! what evil looks - Had I from old and young! - Instead of the cross, the Albatross - About my neck was hung. - - - PART III - - "There passed a weary time. Each throat - Was parched, and glazed each eye. - A weary time! a weary time! - How glazed each weary eye, - When looking westward, I beheld - A something in the sky. - - At first it seemed a little speck, - And then it seemed a mist; - It moved and moved, and took at last - A certain shape, I wist. - - A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! - And still it neared and neared: - As if it dodged a water-sprite, - It plunged and tacked and veered. - - With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, - We could nor laugh nor wail; - Through utter drought all dumb we stood! - I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, - And cried, A sail! a sail! - - With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, - Agape they heard me call: - Gramercy! they for joy did grin, - And all at once their breath drew in, - As they were drinking all. - - See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more! - Hither to work us weal; - Without a breeze, without a tide, - She steadies with upright keel! - - The western wave was all a-flame, - The day was well nigh done! - Almost upon the western wave - Rested the broad bright Sun; - When that strange shape drove suddenly - Betwixt us and the Sun. - - And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, - (Heaven's Mother send us grace!) - As if through a dungeon-grate he peered - With broad and burning face. - - Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) - How fast she nears and nears! - Are those _her_ sails that glance in the Sun, - Like restless gossameres? - - Are those _her_ ribs through which the Sun - Did peer, as through a grate? - And is that Woman all her crew? - Is that a DEATH? and are there two? - Is DEATH that woman's mate? - - _Her_ lips were red, _her_ looks were free, - Her locks were yellow as gold: - Her skin was as white as leprosy, - The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, - Who thicks man's blood with cold. - - The naked hulk alongside came, - And the twain were casting dice; - "The game is done! I've won! I've won!" - Quoth she, and whistles thrice. - - The Sun's rim dips: the stars rush out: - At one stride comes the dark; - With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea, - Off shot the spectre-bark. - - We listened and looked sideways up! - Fear at my heart, as at a cup, - My life-blood seemed to sip! - The stars were dim, and thick the night, - The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white; - From the sails the dew did drip-- - Till clomb above the eastern bar - The hornèd Moon, with one bright star - Within the nether tip. - - One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, - Too quick for groan or sigh, - Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, - And cursed me with his eye. - - Four times fifty living men, - (And I heard nor sigh nor groan) - With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, - They dropped down one by one. - - The souls did from their bodies fly,-- - They fled to bliss or woe! - And every soul, it passed me by, - Like the whizz of my cross-bow!" - - - PART IV - - "I fear thee, ancient Mariner! - I fear thy skinny hand! - And thou art long, and lank, and brown, - As is the ribbed sea-sand. - - I fear thee and thy glittering eye, - And thy skinny hand, so brown."-- - "Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! - This body dropt not down. - - Alone, alone, all, all alone, - Alone on a wide wide sea! - And never a saint took pity on - My soul in agony. - - The many men, so beautiful! - And they all dead did lie: - And a thousand thousand slimy things - Lived on; and so did I. - - I looked upon the rotting sea, - And drew my eyes away; - I looked upon the rotting deck, - And there the dead men lay. - - I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; - But or ever a prayer had gusht, - A wicked whisper came, and made - My heart as dry as dust. - - I closed my lids, and kept them close, - And the balls like pulses beat; - For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky - Lay like a load on my weary eye, - And the dead were at my feet. - - The cold sweat melted from their limbs, - Nor rot nor reek did they: - The look with which they looked on me - Had never passed away. - - An orphan's curse would drag to hell - A spirit from on high; - But oh! more horrible than that - Is the curse in a dead man's eye! - Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, - And yet I could not die. - - The moving Moon went up the sky, - And no where did abide: - Softly she was going up, - And a star or two beside-- - - Her beams bemocked the sultry main, - Like April hoar-frost spread; - But where the ship's huge shadow lay, - The charmèd water burnt alway - A still and awful red. - - Beyond the shadow of the ship, - I watched the water-snakes: - They moved in tracks of shining white, - And when they reared, the elfish light - Fell off in hoary flakes. - - Within the shadow of the ship - I watched their rich attire: - Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, - They coiled and swam; and every track - Was a flash of golden fire. - - O happy living things! no tongue - Their beauty might declare: - A spring of love gushed from my heart, - And I blessed them unaware: - Sure my kind saint took pity on me, - And I blessed them unaware. - - The self-same moment I could pray; - And from my neck so free - The Albatross fell off, and sank - Like lead into the sea. - - - PART V - - Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, - Beloved from pole to pole! - To Mary Queen the praise be given! - She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, - That slid into my soul. - - The silly buckets on the deck, - That had so long remained, - I dreamt that they were filled with dew; - And when I awoke, it rained. - - My lips were wet, my throat was cold, - My garments all were dank; - Sure I had drunken in my dreams, - And still my body drank. - - I moved, and could not feel my limbs: - I was so light--almost - I thought that I had died in sleep, - And was a blessèd ghost. - - And soon I heard a roaring wind: - It did not come anear; - But with its sound it shook the sails, - That were so thin and sere. - - The upper air burst into life! - And a hundred fire-flags sheen, - To and fro they were hurried about! - And to and fro, and in and out, - The wan stars danced between. - - And the coming wind did roar more loud, - And the sails did sigh like sedge; - And the rain poured down from one black cloud; - The Moon was at its edge. - - The thick black cloud was cleft, and still - The Moon was at its side: - Like waters shot from some high crag, - The lightning fell with never a jag, - A river steep and wide. - - The loud wind never reached the ship, - Yet now the ship moved on! - Beneath the lightning and the Moon - The dead men gave a groan. - - They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, - Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; - It had been strange, even in a dream, - To have seen those dead men rise. - - The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; - Yet never a breeze up-blew; - The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, - Where they were wont to do; - They raised their limbs like lifeless tools-- - We were a ghastly crew. - - The body of my brother's son - Stood by me, knee to knee: - The body and I pulled at one rope, - But he said nought to me."-- - - "I fear thee, ancient Mariner!"-- - "Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest! - 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain, - Which to their corses came again, - But a troop of spirits blest: - - For when it dawned--they dropped their arms, - And clustered round the mast; - Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, - And from their bodies passed. - - Around, around, flew each sweet sound, - Then darted to the Sun; - Slowly the sounds came back again, - Now mixed, now one by one. - - Sometimes a-dropping from the sky - I heard the sky-lark sing; - Sometimes all little birds that are, - How they seemed to fill the sea and air - With their sweet jargoning! - - And now 'twas like all instruments, - Now like a lonely flute; - And now it is an angel's song, - That makes the heavens be mute. - - It ceased; yet still the sails made on - A pleasant noise till noon, - A noise like of a hidden brook - In the leafy month of June, - That to the sleeping woods all night - Singeth a quiet tune. - - Till noon we silently sailed on, - Yet never a breeze did breathe: - Slowly and smoothly went the ship, - Moved onward from beneath. - - Under the keel nine fathom deep, - From the land of mist and snow, - The spirit slid: and it was he - That made the ship to go. - The sails at noon left off their tune, - And the ship stood still also. - - The Sun, right up above the mast, - Had fixed her to the ocean; - But in a minute she 'gan stir, - With a short uneasy motion-- - Backwards and forwards half her length - With a short uneasy motion. - - Then like a pawing horse let go, - She made a sudden bound: - It flung the blood into my head, - And I fell down in a swound. - - How long in that same fit I lay, - I have not to declare; - But ere my living life returned, - I heard and in my soul discerned - Two voices in the air. - - "Is it he?" quoth one, "Is this the man? - By him who died on cross, - With his cruel bow he laid full low - The harmless Albatross. - - The spirit who bideth by himself - In the land of mist and snow, - He loved the bird that loved the man - Who shot him with his bow." - - The other was a softer voice, - As soft as honey-dew: - Quoth he, "The man hath penance done, - And penance more will do." - - - PART VI - - _First Voice._ "But tell me, tell me! speak again, - Thy soft response renewing-- - What makes that ship drive on so fast? - What is the ocean doing?" - - _Second Voice._ "Still as a slave before his lord, - The ocean hath no blast; - His great bright eye most silently - Up to the Moon is cast-- - - If he may know which way to go; - For she guides him smooth or grim. - See, brother, see I how graciously - She looketh down on him." - - _First Voice._ "But why drives on that ship so fast, - Withouten wave or wind?" - - _Second Voice._ "The air is cut away before, - And closes from behind. - - Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high! - Or we shall be belated: - For slow and slow that ship will go, - When the Mariner's trance is abated."-- - - I woke, and we were sailing on - As in a gentle weather: - 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high; - The dead men stood together. - - All stood together on the deck, - For a charnel-dungeon fitter: - All fixed on me their stony eyes, - That in the Moon did glitter. - - The pang, the curse, with which they died, - Had never passed away: - I could not draw my eyes from theirs, - Nor turn them up to pray. - - And now this spell was snapt: once more - I viewed the ocean green, - And looked far forth, yet little saw - Of what had else been seen-- - - Like one, that on a lonesome road - Doth walk in fear and dread, - And having once turned round walks on, - And turns no more his head; - Because he knows, a frightful fiend - Doth close behind him tread. - - But soon there breathed a wind on me, - Nor sound nor motion made: - Its path was not upon the sea, - In ripple or in shade. - - It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek - Like a meadow-gale of spring-- - It mingled strangely with my fears, - Yet it felt like a welcoming. - - Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, - Yet she sailed softly too: - Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-- - On me alone it blew. - - Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed - The light-house top I see? - Is this the hill? is this the kirk? - Is this mine own countree? - - We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, - And I with sobs did pray-- - O let me be awake, my God! - Or let me sleep alway. - - The harbour-bay was clear as glass, - So smoothly it was strewn! - And on the bay the moonlight lay, - And the shadow of the Moon. - - The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, - That stands above the rock: - The moonlight steeped in silentness - The steady weathercock. - - And the bay was white with silent light, - Till rising from the same, - Full many shapes, that shadows were, - In crimson colours came. - - A little distance from the prow - Those crimson shadows were: - I turned my eyes upon the deck-- - Oh, Christ! what saw I there! - - Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, - And, by the holy rood! - A man all light, a seraph-man, - On every corse there stood. - - This seraph-band, each waved his hand: - It was a heavenly sight! - They stood as signals to the land, - Each one a lovely light; - - This seraph-band, each waved his hand, - No voice did they impart-- - No voice; but oh! the silence sank - Like music on my heart. - - But soon I heard the dash of oars, - I heard the Pilot's cheer; - My head was turned perforce away, - And I saw a boat appear. - - The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, - I heard them coming fast: - Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy - The dead men could not blast. - - I saw a third--I heard his voice: - It is the Hermit good! - He singeth loud his godly hymns - That he makes in the wood. - He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away - The Albatross's blood. - - PART VII - - This Hermit good lives in that wood - Which slopes down to the sea. - How loudly his sweet voice he rears! - He loves to talk with marineres - That come from a far countree. - - He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve-- - He hath a cushion plump: - It is the moss that wholly hides - The rotted old oak-stump. - - The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, - "Why, this is strange, I trow! - Where are those lights so many and fair, - That signal made but now?" - - "Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said-- - "And they answered not our cheer! - The planks looked warped! and see those sails, - How thin they are and sere! - I never saw aught like to them, - Unless perchance it were - - Brown skeletons of leaves that lag - My forest-brook along; - When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, - And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, - That eats the she-wolf's young." - - "Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look-- - (The Pilot made reply) - I am a-feared"--"Push on, push on!" - Said the Hermit cheerily. - - The boat came closer to the ship, - But I nor spake nor stirred; - The boat came close beneath the ship, - And straight a sound was heard. - - Under the water it rumbled on, - Still louder and more dread: - It reached the ship, it split the bay; - The ship went down like lead. - - Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, - Which sky and ocean smote, - Like one that hath been seven days drowned - My body lay afloat; - But swift as dreams, myself I found - Within the Pilot's boat. - - Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, - The boat spun round and round; - And all was still, save that the hill - Was telling of the sound. - - I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked - And fell down in a fit; - The holy Hermit raised his eyes, - And prayed where he did sit. - - I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, - Who now doth crazy go, - Laughed loud and long, and all the while - His eyes went to and fro. - "Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see, - The Devil knows how to row." - - And now, all in my own countree, - I stood on the firm land! - The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, - And scarcely he could stand. - - "O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!" - The Hermit crossed his brow. - "Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say-- - What manner of man art thou?" - - Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched - With a woful agony, - Which forced me to begin my tale; - And then it left me free. - - Since then, at an uncertain hour, - That agony returns: - And till my ghastly tale is told, - This heart within me burns. - - I pass, like night, from land to land; - I have strange power of speech; - That moment that his face I see, - I know the man that must hear me: - To him my tale I teach. - - What loud uproar bursts from that door! - The wedding-guests are there: - But in the garden-bower the bride - And bride-maids singing are: - And hark the little vesper bell, - Which biddeth me to prayer! - - O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been - Alone on a wide wide sea: - So lonely 'twas, that God himself - Scarce seemèd there to be. - - O sweeter than the marriage-feast, - 'Tis sweeter far to me, - To walk together to the kirk - With a goodly company!-- - - To walk together to the kirk, - And all together pray, - While each to his great Father bends, - Old men, and babes, and loving friends - And youths and maidens gay! - - Farewell, farewell! but this I tell - To thee, thou Wedding-Guest! - He prayeth well, who loveth well - Both man and bird and beast. - - He prayeth best, who loveth best - All things both great and small; - For the dear God who loveth us, - He made and loveth all."-- - - The Mariner, whose eye is bright, - Whose beard with age is hoar, - Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest - Turned from the bridegroom's door. - - He went like one that hath been stunned, - And is of sense forlorn: - A sadder and a wiser man, - He rose the morrow morn. - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - - 399 THE CHILD AND THE MARINER - - This sailor knows of wondrous lands afar, - More rich than Spain, when the Phoenicians shipped - Silver for common ballast, and they saw - Horses at silver mangers eating grain; - This man has seen the wind blow up a mermaid's hair - Which, like a golden serpent, reared and stretched - To feel the air away beyond her head.... - He many a tale of wonder told: of where, - At Argostoli, Cephalonia's sea - Ran over the earth's lip in heavy floods; - And then again of how the strange Chinese - Conversed much as our homely Blackbirds sing. - He told us how he sailed in one old ship - Near that volcano Martinique, whose power - Shook like dry leaves the whole Caribbean seas; - And made the sun set in a sea of fire - Which only half was his; and dust was thick - On deck, and stones were pelted at the mast.... - He told how isles sprang up and sank again, - Between short voyages, to his amaze; - How they did come and go, and cheated charts; - Told how a crew was cursed when one man killed - A bird that perched upon a moving barque; - And how the sea's sharp needles, firm and strong, - Ripped open the bellies of big, iron ships; - Of mighty icebergs in the Northern seas, - That haunt the far horizon like white ghosts. - He told of waves that lift a ship so high. - That birds could pass from starboard unto port - Under her dripping keel. - Oh, it was sweet - To hear that seaman tell such wondrous tales.... - - WILLIAM H. DAVIES - - - 400 THE PARROTS - - Somewhere, somewhen I've seen, - But where or when I'll never know, - Parrots of shrilly green - With crests of shriller scarlet flying - Out of black cedars as the sun was dying - Against cold peaks of snow. - - From what forgotten life - Of other worlds I cannot tell - Flashes that screeching strife: - Yet the shrill colour and shrill crying - Sing through my blood and set my heart replying - And jangling like a bell. - - WILFRID GIBSON - - - 401 OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT - - I met a traveller from an antique land - Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone - Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, - Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown - And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command - Tell that its sculptor well those passions read - Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, - The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: - And on the pedestal these words appear: - "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: - Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" - Nothing beside remains. Round the decay - Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare - The lone and level sands stretch far away. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 402 ST. ANTHONY'S TOWNSHIP - - The trees of the elder lands, - Give ear to the march of Time, - To his steps that are heavy and slow - In the streets of ruined cities - That were great awhile ago-- - Skeletons bare to the skies - Or mummies hid in the sands, - Wasting to rubble and lime. - Ancient are they and wise; - - But the gum-trees down by the creek, - Gnarled, archaic and grey, - Are even as wise as they. - They have learned in a score of years - The lore that their brethren know; - For they saw a town arise, - Arise and pass. - - There are pits by the dry, dead river, - Whence the diggers won their gold, - A circle traced in the grass, - A hearthstone long a-cold, - A path none come to seek-- - The trail of the pioneers-- - Where the sheep wind to and fro; - And the rest is a tale that is told - By voices quavering and weak - Of men grown old. - - GILBERT SHELDON - - - 403 SILENCE - - There is a silence where hath been no sound, - There is a silence where no sound may be, - In the cold grave--under the deep--deep sea, - Or in wide desert where no life is found, - Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound; - No voice is hushed--no life treads silently, - But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free, - That never spoke, over the idle ground: - But in green ruins, in the desolate walls - Of antique palaces, where Man hath been, - Though the dun fox, or wild hyaena, calls, - And owls, that flit continually between, - Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan, - There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone. - - THOMAS HOOD - - - 404 KUBLA KHAN - - In Xanadu did Kubla Khan - A stately pleasure-dome decree: - Where Alph, the sacred river, ran - Through caverns measureless to man - Down to a sunless sea. - So twice five miles of fertile ground - With walls and towers were girdled round: - And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills - Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; - And here were forests ancient as the hills, - Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. - - But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted - Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! - A savage place! as holy and enchanted - As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted - By woman wailing for her demon-lover! - And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, - As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, - A mighty fountain momently was forced: - Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst - Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, - Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail: - And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever - It flung up momently the sacred river. - Five miles meandering with a mazy motion - Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, - Then reached the caverns measureless to man, - And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: - And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far - Ancestral voices prophesying war! - The shadow of the dome of pleasure - Floated midway on the waves; - Where was heard the mingled measure - From the fountain and the caves. - It was a miracle of rare device, - A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! - - A damsel with a dulcimer - In a vision once I saw: - It was an Abyssinian maid, - And on her dulcimer she played, - Singing of Mount Abora. - Could I revive within me - Her symphony and song, - To such a deep delight 'twould win me, - That with music loud and long - I would build that dome in air, - That sunny dome! those caves of ice! - And all who heard should see them there, - And all should cry, Beware! Beware! - His flashing eyes, his floating hair! - Weave a circle round him thrice, - And close your eyes with holy dread, - For he on honey-dew hath fed, - And drunk the milk of Paradise.... - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - - 405 LOST LOVE - - His eyes are quickened so with grief, - He can watch a grass or leaf - Every instant grow; he can - Clearly through a flint wall see, - Or watch the startled spirit flee - From the throat of a dead man. - Across two counties he can hear, - And catch your words before you speak. - The woodlouse, or the maggot's weak - Clamour rings in his sad ear; - And noise so slight it would surpass - Credence:--drinking sound of grass, - Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth - Chumbling holes in cloth: - The groan of ants who undertake - Gigantic loads for honour's sake, - Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin: - Whir of spiders when they spin, - And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs - Of idle grubs and flies. - This man is quickened so with grief, - He wanders god-like or like thief - Inside and out, below, above, - Without relief seeking lost love. - - ROBERT GRAVES - - - 406 ECSTASY - - I saw a frieze on whitest marble drawn - Of boys who sought for shells along the shore, - Their white feet shedding pallor in the sea, - The shallow sea, the spring-time sea of green - That faintly creamed against the cold, smooth pebbles.... - - One held a shell unto his shell-like ear - And there was music carven in his face, - His eyes half-closed, his lips just breaking open - To catch the lulling, mazy, coralline roar - Of numberless caverns filled with singing seas. - - And all of them were hearkening as to singing - Of far-off voices thin and delicate, - Voices too fine for any mortal wind - To blow into the whorls of mortal ears-- - And yet those sounds flowed from their grave, sweet faces. - - And as I looked I heard that delicate music, - And I became as grave, as calm, as still - As those carved boys. I stood upon that shore, - I felt the cool sea dream around my feet, - My eyes were staring at the far horizon.... - - WALTER J. TURNER - - - 407 THE SEA OF DEATH - - ... And there were spring-faced cherubs that did sleep - Like water-lilies on that motionless deep, - How beautiful! with bright unruffled hair - On sleek unfretted brows, and eyes that were - Buried in marble tombs, a pale eclipse! - And smile-bedimpled cheeks, and pleasant lips, - Meekly apart, as if the soul intense - Spake out in dreams of its own innocence.... - So lay they garmented in torpid light, - Under the pall of a transparent night, - Like solemn apparitions lulled sublime - To everlasting rest,--and with them Time - Slept, as he sleeps upon the silent face - Of a dark dial in a sunless place. - - - 408 THE FROZEN OCEAN - - The sea would flow no longer, - It wearied after change, - It called its tides and breakers in, - From where they might range. - - It sent an icy message - To every wave and rill; - They lagged, they paused, they stiffened, - They froze, and were still. - - It summoned in its currents, - They reached not where they led; - It bound its foaming whirlpools. - "Not the old life," it said, - - "Not fishes for the fishermen, - Not bold ships as before, - Not beating loud for ever - Upon the seashore, - - "But cold white foxes stepping - On to my hard proud breast, - And a bird coming sweetly - And building a nest. - - "My icebergs shall be mountains, - My silent fields of snow - Unmarked shall join the lands' snowfields-- - Where, no man shall know." - - VIOLA MEYNELL - - - 409 THE END OF THE WORLD - - The snow had fallen many nights and days; - The sky was come upon the earth at last, - Sifting thinly down as endlessly - As though within the system of blind planets - Something had been forgot or overdriven. - The dawn now seemed neglected in the grey - Where mountains were unbuilt and shadowless trees - Rootlessly paused or hung upon the air. - There was no wind, but now and then a sigh - Crossed that dry falling dust and rifted it - Through crevices of slate and door and casement. - Perhaps the new moon's time was even past. - Outside, the first white twilights were too void - Until a sheep called once, as to a lamb, - And tenderness crept everywhere from it; - But now the flock must have strayed far away. - The lights across the valley must be veiled, - The smoke lost in the greyness or the dusk. - For more than three days now the snow had thatched - That cow-house roof where it had ever melted - With yellow stains from the beasts' breath inside; - But yet a dog howled there, though not quite lately. - Someone passed down the valley swift and singing, - Yes, with locks spreaded like a son of morning; - But if he seemed too tall to be a man - It was that men had been so long unseen, - Or shapes loom larger through a moving snow. - And he was gone and food had not been given him. - When snow slid from an overweighted leaf, - Shaking the tree, it might have been a bird - Slipping in sleep or shelter, whirring wings; - Yet never bird fell out, save once a dead one-- - And in two days the snow had covered it. - The dog had howled again--or thus it seemed - Until a lean fox passed and cried no more. - All was so safe indoors where life went on - Glad of the close enfolding snow--O glad - To be so safe and secret at its heart, - Watching the strangeness of familiar things. - They knew not what dim hours went on, went by, - For while they slept the clock stopt newly wound - As the cold hardened. Once they watched the road, - Thinking to be remembered. Once they doubted - If they had kept the sequence of the days, - Because they heard not any sound of bells. - A butterfly, that hid until the Spring - Under a ceiling's shadow, dropt, was dead. - The coldness seemed more nigh, the coldness deepened - As a sound deepens into silences; - It was of earth and came not by the air; - The earth was cooling and drew down the sky. - The air was crumbling. There was no more sky. - Rails of a broken bed charred in the grate, - And when he touched the bars he thought the sting - Came from their heat--he could not feel such cold... - She said, "O do not sleep, - Heart, heart of mine, keep near me. No, no; sleep. - I will not lift his fallen, quiet eyelids, - Although I know he would awaken then-- - He closed them thus but now of his own will. - He can stay with me while I do not lift them." - - GORDON BOTTOMLEY - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - OLD TALES AND BALLADRY - - - 410 FLANNAN ISLE - - "Though three men dwell on Flannan Isle - To keep the lamp alight, - As we steered under the lee, we caught - No glimmer through the night."-- - - A passing ship at dawn had brought - The news; and quickly we set sail, - To find out what strange thing might ail - The keepers of the deep-sea light. - - The Winter day broke blue and bright, - With glancing sun and glancing spray, - While o'er the swell our boat made way, - As gallant as a gull in flight. - - But as we neared the lonely Isle, - And looked up at the naked height, - And saw the lighthouse towering white, - With blinded lantern, that all night - Had never shot a spark - Of comfort through the dark, - So ghostly in the cold sunlight - It seemed, that we were struck the while - With wonder all too dread for words. - - And as into the tiny creek - We stole beneath the hanging crag, - We saw three queer, black, ugly birds-- - Too big, by far, in my belief, - For cormorant or shag-- - Like seamen sitting bolt-upright - Upon a half-tide reef: - But, as we neared, they plunged from sight, - Without a sound, or spurt of white. - - And still too mazed to speak, - We landed; and made fast the boat; - And climbed the track in single file, - Each wishing he were safe afloat, - On any sea, however far, - So it be far from Flannan Isle: - And still we seemed to climb, and climb, - As though we'd lost all count of time, - And so must climb for evermore. - Yet, all too soon, we reached the door - The black, sun-blistered lighthouse-door, - That gaped for us ajar. - - As, on the threshold, for a spell, - We paused, we seemed to breathe the smell - Of limewash and of tar, - Familiar as our daily breath, - As though 'twere some strange scent of death: - And so, yet wondering, side by side, - We stood a moment, still tongue-tied: - And each with black foreboding eyed - The door, ere we should fling it wide, - To leave the sunlight for the gloom: - Till, plucking courage up, at last, - Hard on each other's heels we passed, - Into the living-room. - - Yet, as we crowded through the door, - We only saw a table, spread - For dinner, meat and cheese and bread; - But, all untouched; and no one there: - As though, when they sat down to eat, - Ere they could even taste, - Alarm had come; and they in haste - Had risen and left the bread and meat: - For at the table-head a chair - Lay tumbled on the floor. - - We listened; but we only heard - The feeble cheeping of a bird - That starved upon its perch: - And, listening still, without a word, - We set about our hopeless search. - - We hunted high, we hunted low; - And soon ransacked the empty house; - Then o'er the Island, to and fro, - We ranged, to listen and to look - In every cranny, cleft or nook - That might have hid a bird or mouse: - But, though we searched from shore to shore - We found no sign in any place: - And soon again stood face to face - Before the gaping door: - And stole into the room once more - As frightened children steal. - Ay: though we hunted high and low, - And hunted everywhere, - Of the three men's fate we found no trace - Of any kind in any place, - But a door ajar, and an untouched meal, - And an overtoppled chair. - - And as we listened in the gloom - Of that forsaken living-room-- - A chill clutch on our breath-- - We thought how ill-chance came to all - Who kept the Flannan Light: - And how the rock had been the death - Of many a likely lad: - How six had come to a sudden end, - And three had gone stark mad: - And one whom we'd all known as friend - Had leapt from the lantern one still night, - And fallen dead by the lighthouse wall: - And long we thought - On the three we sought, - And of what might yet befall. - - Like curs a glance has brought to heel, - We listened, flinching there: - And looked, and looked, on the untouched meal, - And the overtoppled chair. - - We seemed to stand for an endless while, - Though still no word was said, - Three men alive on Flannan Isle, - Who thought on three men dead. - - WILFRID GIBSON - - - 411 THE GOLDEN VANITY - - There was a gallant ship, and a gallant ship was she, - _Eck iddle du, and the Lowlands low_; - And she was called The Goulden Vanitie. - _As she sailed to the Lowlands low_. - - She had not sailed a league, a league but only three, - When she came up with a French gallee. - _As she sailed to the Lowlands low_. - - Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he; - "What will you give me if I sink that French gallee? - _As ye sail to the Lowlands low_." - - "I'll give thee gold, and I'll give thee fee, - And my eldest daughter thy wife shall be - _If you sink her off the Lowlands low_." - - "Then row me up ticht in a black bull's skin, - And throw me oer deck-buird, sink I or swim. - _As ye sail to the Lowlands low_." - - So they've rowed him up ticht in a black bull's skin, - And have thrown him oer deck-buird, sink he or swim. - _As they sail to the Lowlands low_. - - About, and about, and about went he, - Until he cam up with the French gallee. - _As they sailed to the Lowlands low_. - - O some were playing cards, and some were playing dice, - The boy he had an auger bored holes two at twice; - He let the water in, and it dazzled in their eyes, - _As they sailed to the Lowlands low_. - - Then some they ran with cloaks, and some they ran with caps, - To try if they could stap the saut-water draps. - _As they sailed to the Lowlands low_. - - About, and about, and about went he, - Until he cam back to The Goulden Vanitie. - _As they sailed to the Lowlands low_. - - "Now throw me oer a rope and pu me up on buird, - And prove unto me as guid as your word. - _As ye sail to the Lowlands low_." - - "We'll no throw ye oer a rope, nor pu you up on buird, - Nor prove unto you as guid as our word. - _As we sail to the Lowlands low_." - - "You promised me gold, and you promised me fee, - Your eldest daughter my wife she should be. - _As ye sail to the Lowlands low_." - - "You shall have gold, and you shall have fee, - But my eldest daughter your wife shall never be. - _As we sail to the Lowlands low_." - - Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he; - "Then hang me, I'll sink ye as I sunk the French gallee. - _As ye sail to the Lowlands low_." - - The boy he swam round all by the starboard side, - When they pu'd him up on buird it's there he soon died; - They threw him o'er deck-buird to go down with the tide, - _And sink off the Lowlands low_. - - - 412 BROWN ROBYN - - It fell upon a Wodensday - Brown Robyn's men went to sea, - But they saw neither moon nor sun, - Nor starlight with their ee. - - "We'll cast kevels us amang, - See wha the unhappy man may be:" - The kevel fell on Brown Robyn, - The master-man was hee. - - "It is nae wonder," said Brown Robyn, - "Altho I dinna thrive; - [For if the deidly sins be seven, - Befallen me hae five.] - - "But tie me to a plank o wude, - And throw me in the sea; - And if I sink, ye may bid me sink, - But if I swim, lat me bee." - - They've tyed him to a plank o wude, - And thrown him in the sea; - He didna sink, tho they bade him sink; - He swimd, and they lat him be.-- - - He hadna been into the sea - An hour but barely three, - Till by and came Our Blessed Lady, - Her dear young son her wi. - - "Will ye gang to your men again? - Or will ye gang wi me? - Will ye gang to the high heavens, - Wi my dear son and me?" - - "I winna gang to my men again, - For they woud be feared at mee; - But I woud gang to the high heavens, - Wi thy dear son and thee." - - "It's for nae honour ye did to me, Brown Robyn, - It's for nae guid ye did to mee; - But a' is for your fair confession - You've made upon the sea." - - - 413 ONE FRIDAY MORN - - One Friday morn when we set sail, - Not very far from land, - We there did espy a fair pretty maid - With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand, - With a comb and a glass in her hand. - _While the raging seas did roar,_ - _And the stormy winds did blow,_ - _While we jolly sailor-boys were up into the top,_ - _And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,_ - _And the land-lubbers lying down below._ - - Then up starts the captain of our gallant ship, - And a brave young man was he: - "I've a wife and a child in fair Bristol town, - But a widow I fear she will be." - _And the raging seas did roar,_ - _And the stormy winds did blow._ - - Then up starts the mate of our gallant ship, - And a bold young man was he: - "Oh! I have a wife in fair Portsmouth town, - But a widow I fear she will be." - _And the raging seas did roar,_ - _And the stormy winds did blow._ - - Then up starts the cook of our gallant ship, - And a gruff old soul was he: - "Oh! I have a wife in fair Plymouth town, - But a widow I fear she will be." - _And the raging seas did roar,_ - _And the stormy winds did blow._ - - And then up spoke the little cabin-boy, - And a pretty little boy was he; - "Oh! I am more grieved for my daddy and my mammy - Than you for your wives all three." - _And the raging seas did roar,_ - _And the stormy winds did blow._ - - Then three times round went our gallant ship, - And three times round went she; - And three times round went our gallant ship, - And she sank to the bottom of the sea.... - - _And the raging seas did roar,_ - _And the stormy winds did blow._ - _While we jolly sailor-boys were up into the top,_ - _And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,_ - _And the land-lubbers lying down below._ - - - 414 THE SHIP - - There was no song nor shout of joy - Nor beam of moon or sun, - When she came back from the voyage - Long ago begun; - But twilight on the waters - Was quiet and grey, - And she glided steady, steady and pensive, - Over the open bay. - - Her sails were brown and ragged, - And her crew hollow-eyed, - But their silent lips spoke content - And their shoulders pride; - Though she had no captives on her deck, - And in her hold - There were no heaps of corn or timber - Or silks or gold. - - J. C. SQUIRE - - - 415 THE MOON-CHILD - - A little lonely child am I - That have not any soul: - God made me as the homeless wave, - That has no goal. - - A seal my father was, a seal - That once was man; - My mother loved him tho' he was - 'Neath mortal ban. - - He took a wave and drownèd her, - She took a wave and lifted him: - And I was born where shadows are - In sea-depths dim. - - All through the sunny blue-sweet hours - I swim and glide in waters green: - Never by day the mournful shores - By me are seen. - - But when the gloom is on the wave - A shell unto the shore I bring: - And then upon the rocks I sit - And plaintive sing. - - I have no playmate but the tide - The seaweed loves with dark brown eyes: - The night-waves have the stars for play, - For me but sighs. - - "FIONA MACLEOD" (WILLIAM SHARP) - - - 416 THE MERMAID - - To yon fause stream that, by the sea, - Hides mony an elf and plum,[162] - And rives wi' fearful din the stanes, - A witless knicht did come. - - The day shines clear. Far in he's gane, - Whar shells are silver bright; - Fishes war loupin'[163] a' aroun' - An' sparklin' to the light. - - When, as he laved, sounds came sae sweet - Frae ilka rock ajee;[164] - The brief[165] was out; 'twas him it doomed - The mermaid's face to see. - - Frae 'neath a rock sune, sune she rose, - An' stately on she swam, - Stopped i' the midst, and becked and sang - For him to stretch his han'; - - Gowden glist the yellow links - That roun' her neck she'd twine; - Her een war o' the skyie blue, - Her lips did mock the wine. - - The smile upon her bonnie cheek - Was sweeter than the bee; - Her voice excelled the birdie's sang - Upon the birchen tree. - - Sae couthie, couthie did she look, - And meikle had she fleeched;[166] - Out shot his hand--alas! alas! - Fast in the swirl he screeched. - - The mermaid leuched;[167] her brief was dane; - The kelpie's blast was blawin': - Fu' low she dived, ne'er cam' again; - For deep, deep was the fawin'. - - Aboon the stream his wraith was seen: - Warlocks tirled lang at gloamin': - That e'en was coarse;[168] the blast blew hoarse - Ere lang the waves war foamin'. - - - 417 QUO' THE TWEED - - Quo' the Tweed to the Till, - "What gars ye gang sae still?" - Quo' the Till to the Tweed, - "Though ye rin wi' speed, - And I rin slaw, - For ilka are that ye droon, - I droon twa." - - - 418 SIR PATRICK SPENCE - - The king sits in Dumferling toune, - Drinking the blude-reid wine: - "O whar will I get ae guid sailor, - To sail this schip of mine?" - - Up and spak an eldern knicht, - Sat at the king's richt kne; - "Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor - That sails upon the se." - - The king has written a braid letter, - And signd it wi his hand, - And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, - Was walking on the sand. - - The first line that Sir Patrick red, - A loud lauch lauched he; - The next line that Sir Patrick red, - The teir blinded his ee. - - "O wha is this has done this deid, - This ill deid don to me, - To send me out this time o' the yeir, - To sail upon the se! - - "Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all, - Our guid schip sails the morne." - "O say na sae, my master deir, - Fir I feir a deadlie storme. - - "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone - Wi' the auld moone in hir arme, - And I feir, I feir, my deir master, - That we will cum to harme." - - O our Scots nobles wer richt laith[169] - To weet[170] their cork-heil'd schoone; - Bot lang owre[171] a' the play wer playd, - Thair hats they swam aboone. - - O lang, lang may their ladies sit - Wi' thair fans into their hand - Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence - Cum sailing to the land. - - O lang, lang may the ladies stand, - Wi' thair gold kems in their hair, - Waiting for thair ain deir lords, - For they'll se thame no mair. - - Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, - It's fiftie fadom deip, - And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, - Wi' the Scots lords at his feit. - - - 419 ALLISON GROSS - - O Allison Gross, that lives in yon towr, - The ugliest witch i the north country, - Has trysted me ae day up till her bowr, - An monny fair speech she made to me. - - She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair, - An she set me down saftly on her knee; - Says, Gin[172] ye will be my luver so true, - Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi'e. - - She showd me a mantle o red scarlet, - Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine; - Says, Gin ye will be my luver so true, - This goodly gift it sal be thine. - - "Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, - Haud far awa, an lat me be; - I never will be your luver sae true, - An I wish I were out o your company." - - She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk, - Well wrought wi pearles about the ban; - Says, Gin you will be my ain true love, - This goodly gift you sal comman. - - She showd me a cup of the good red gold, - Well set wi jewls sae fair to see; - Says, Gin you will be my luver sae true, - This goodly gift I will you gi'e. - - "Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, - Haud far awa, and lat me be; - For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth - For a' the gifts that ye could gi'e." - - She's turnd her right and roun about, - An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn, - An she sware by the moon and the stars aboon, - That she'd gar me rue the day I was born. - - Then out has she taen a silver wand, - An she's turnd her three times roun an roun; - She's mutterd sich words till my strength it faild, - An I fell down senceless upon the groun. - - She's turnd me into an ugly worm, - And gard me writhle about the tree; - An ay, on ilka Saturdays night, - My sister Maisry came to me, - - Wi silver bason an silver kemb, - To kemb my heady upon her knee; - But or I had kissd her ugly mouth, - I'd rather a writhled about the tree. - - But as it fell out on last Hallow-even, - When the seely court was ridin by, - The queen lighted down on a gowany bank, - Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye. - - She took me up in her milk-white han, - An she's stroakd me three times oer her knee; - She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape, - An I nae mair maun writhle about the tree. - - - 420 SIR HUGH, OR, THE JEW'S DAUGHTER - - Four and twenty bonny boys - Were playing at the ba', - And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh, - And he playd o'er them a'. - - He kicked the ba' with his right foot, - And catchd it wi' his knee, - And throuch-and-thro the Jew's window - He gard the bonny ba' flee. - - He's doen him to the Jew's castell, - And walkd it round about; - And there he saw the Jew's daughter, - At the window looking out. - - "Throw down the ba', ye Jew's daughter, - Throw down the ba' to me!" - "Never a bit," says the Jew's daughter, - "Till up to me come ye." - - "How will I come up? How can I come up? - How can I come to thee? - For as ye did to my auld father - The same ye'll do to me." - - She's gane till her father's garden, - And pu'd an apple red and green; - 'T was a' to wyle him--sweet Sir Hugh, - And to entice him in. - - She's led him in through ae dark door, - And sae has she thro nine; - She's laid him on a dressing-table, - And stickit him like a swine. - - And first came out the thick, thick blood, - And syne came out the thin, - And syne came out the bonny heart's blood; - There was nae mair within. - - She's rowd him in a cake o' lead, - Bade him lie still and sleep; - She's thrown him in Our Lady's draw-well, - Was fifty fathom deep. - - When bells were rung, and mass was sung, - And a' the bairns came hame, - When every lady gat hame her son, - The Lady Maisry gat nane. - - She's ta'en her mantle her about, - Her coffer[173] by the hand, - And she's gane out to seek her son, - And wanderd o'er the land. - - She's doen her to the Jew's castell, - Where a' were fast asleep: - "Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, - I pray you to me speak." - - She's doen her to the Jew's garden, - Thought he had been gathering fruit: - "Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, - I pray you to me speak! - - She neard Our Lady's deep draw-well, - Was fifty fathom deep: - "Whareer ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh, - I pray you to me speak." - - "Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear, - Prepare my winding sheet, - And at the birks[174] o' merry Lincoln - The morn I will you meet." - - Now Lady Maisry is gane hame, - Made him a winding sheet, - And at the birks o' merry Lincoln - The dead corpse did her meet. - - And a' the bells o' merry Lincoln - Without men's hands were rung, - And a' the books o' merry Lincoln - Were read without man's tongue, - - When bells war rung, and mass was sung - And a' men bound for bed, - Every mither had her son, - But sweet Sir Hugh was dead. - - - 421 EDWARD - - "Why does your brand so drop wi' blood, - Edward, Edward, - Why does your brand so drop wi' blood, - And why so sad go ye O?" - "O I have killed my hawk so good, - Mother, mother, - O I have killed my hawk so good, - And I had no more but he O." - - "Your hawk's blood was never so red, - Edward, Edward, - Your hawk's blood was never so red, - My dear son I tell thee O." - "O I have killed my red-roan steed, - Mother, mother, - O I have killed my red-roan steed, - That erst was so fair and free O." - - "Your steed was old, and ye have got more, - Edward, Edward, - Your steed was old, and ye have got more, - Some other grief you bear O." - "O I have killed my father dear, - Mother, mother, - O I have killed my father dear, - Alas, and woe is me O!" - - "And what penance will ye do for that, - Edward, Edward? - And what penance will ye do for that? - My dear son, now tell me O." - "I'll set my foot in yonder boat, - Mother, mother, - I'll set my foot in yonder boat, - And I'll fare over the sea O." - - "And what will ye do wi' your towers and your hall, - Edward, Edward? - And what will ye do wi' your towers and your hall, - That were so fair to see O?" - "I'll let them stand till they down fall, - Mother, mother, - I'll let them stand till they down fall, - For here never more may I be O." - - "And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, - Edward, Edward? - And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, - When ye go over the sea O?" - "The world's wide, let them beg their life, - Mother, mother, - The world's wide, let them beg their life, - For them never more will I see O." - - "And what will ye leave to your own mother dear, - Edward, Edward? - And what will ye leave to your own mother dear? - My dear son, now tell me O." - "The curse of hell from me shall ye bear, - Mother, mother, - The curse of hell from me shall ye bear, - Such counsels ye gave to me O." - - - 422 THE LAIRD O' LOGIE - - I will sing, if ye will hearken, - If ye will hearken unto me; - The King has ta'en a poor prisoner, - The wanton laird of Young Logie. - - Young Logie's laid in Edinburgh chapel, - Carmichael's the keeper o' the key; - I heard a may[175] lamenting sair - A' for the laird of Young Logie. - - "Lament, lament na, May Margaret, - And o' your weeping let me be; - For ye maun to the king your sell, - And ask the life of Young Logie. - - May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,[176] - And she's currlld back her yellow hair; - "If I canna get young Logie's life, - Farewell to Scotland for ever mair!" - - When she came before the king, - She knelit low doon on her knee: - "It's what's your will wi' me, May Margaret, - And what needs a' this courtesie?" - - "A boon, a boon, my noble liege, - A boon, a boon, I beg o' thee! - And the first boon that I come to crave, - It's to grant me the life o' Young Logie." - - "O na, O na, May Margaret, - Na, in sooth it mauna[177] be; - For the[178] morn, ere I taste meat or drink, - Hee[179] hangèd shall Young Logie be." - - She has stolen the king's redding-kaim,[180] - Likewise the queen her wedding-knife; - And sent the tokens to Carmichael, - To cause Young Logie get[181] his life. - - She sent him a purse o' the red gowd, - Another o' the white monie; - And sent him a pistol into each hand, - And bade him shoot when he gat free. - - When he came to the Tolbooth stair, - There he let his volley flee, - It made the king in his chamber start, - E'en in the bed where he might be. - - "Gae out, gae out, my merrie men a', - And gar Carmichael come speak wi' me, - For I'll lay my life the pledge o' that, - That yon's the volley of Young Logie." - - When Carmichael came before the king, - He fell low down upon his knee; - The very first word that the king spake, - Was, "Where's the laird o' Young Logie?" - - Carmichael turn'd him round about, - I wat the salt tear blinded his ee, - "There came a token frae your grace, - Has ta'en the laird awa frae me." - - "Mast thou played me that Carmichael?-- - Hast thou played me that?" quoth he; - "The morn the Justice Court's to stand, - And Logie's place ye maun supplie." - - Carmichael's awa to May Margaret's bower, - Even as fast as he may dree; - "O if Young Logie be within, - Tell him to come and speak with me." - - May Margaret's turn'd her round about, - I wat a loud laughter gae she: - "The egg is chipp'd, the bird is flown, - Ye'll see nae mair o' Young Logie." - - Tane[182] is shipped at the pier o' Leith, - T'other at the Queen's Ferrie, - And she's gotten a father to her bairn, - The wanton laird of Young Logie. - - - 423 FAIR ANNIE - - The reivers[183] they stole Fair Annie, - As she walked by the sea; - But a noble knight was her ransom soon, - Wi' gowd and white monie.[184] - - She bided in strangers' land wi' him, - And none knew whence she cam; - She lived in the castle wi' her love, - But never told her name.-- - - "It's narrow, narrow, mak your bed, - And learn to lie your lane;[185] - For I'm gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie, - A braw Bride to bring hame. - Wi' her I will get, gowd and gear, - Wi' you I ne'er gat nane. - - "But wha will bake my bridal bread, - Or brew my bridal ale? - And wha will welcome my bright Bride, - That I bring owre the dale?" - - "It's I will bake your bridal bread, - And brew your bridal ale; - And I will welcome your bright Bride, - That you bring owre the dale." - - "But she that welcomes my bright Bride - Maun gang like maiden fair; - She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, - And comely braid her hair. - - "Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, - And tie it on your neck; - And see you look as maiden-like - As the day that first we met." - - "O how can I gang maiden-like, - When maiden I am nane? - Have I not borne six sons to thee, - And am wi' child again?" - - "I'll put cooks into my kitchen, - And stewards in my hall, - And I'll have bakers for my bread, - And brewers for my ale; - But you're to welcome my bright Bride, - That I bring owre the dale." - - Three months and a day were gane and past, - Fair Annie she gat word - That her love's ship was come at last, - Wi' his bright young Bride aboard. - - She's ta'en her young son in her arms, - Anither in her hand; - And she's gane up to the highest tower, - Looks over sea and land. - - "Come doun, come doun, my mother dear, - Come aff the castle wa'! - I fear if langer ye stand there, - Ye'll let yoursell doun fa'." - - She's ta'en a cake o' the best bread, - A stoup o' the best wine, - And a' the keys upon her arm, - And to the yett is gane.[186] - - "O ye're welcome hame, my ain gude lord, - To your castles and your towers; - Ye're welcome hame, my ain gude lord, - To your ha's,[187] but and your bowers. - And welcome to your hame, fair lady! - For a' that's here is yours." - - "O whatna lady's that, my lord, - That welcomes you and me? - Gin[188] I be lang about this place, - Her friend I mean to be."-- - - Fair Annie served the lang tables - Wi' the white bread and the wine; - But ay she drank the wan water - To keep her colour fine. - - And she gaed by the first table, - And smiled upon them a'; - But ere she reached the second table, - The tears began to fa'. - - She took a napkin lang and white, - And hung it on a pin; - It was to wipe away the tears, - As she gaed out and in. - - When bells were rung and mass was sung, - And a' men bound for bed, - The bridegroom and the bonny Bride - In ae[189] chamber were laid.-- - - Fair Annie's ta'en a harp in her hand, - To harp thir twa[190] asleep; - But ay, as she harpit and she sang, - Fu' sairly did she weep. - - "O gin my sons were seven rats, - Rinnin' on the castle wa', - And I mysell a grey grey cat, - I soon wad worry them a'! - - "O gin my sons were seven hares, - Rinnin' owre yon lily lea, - And I mysell a good greyhound, - Soon worried they a' should be!"-- - - Then out and spak the bonny young Bride, - In bride-bed where she lay: - "That's like my sister Annie," she says; - "Wha is it doth sing and play? - - "I'll put on my gown," said the new-come Bride - "And my shoes upon my feet; - I will see wha doth sae sadly sing, - And what is it gars her greet.[191] - - "What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper, - That ye mak sic a mane?[192] - Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds, - Or is a' your white bread gane?" - - "It isna because my wine is spilt, - Or that my white bread's gane; - But because I've lost my true love's love, - And he's wed to anither are." - - "Noo tell me wha was your father?" she says, - "Noo tell me wha was your mother? - And had ye ony sister?" she says, - "And had ye ever a brother?" - - "The Earl of Wemyss was my father, - The Countess of Wemyss my mother, - Young Elinor she was my sister dear, - And Lord John he was my brother." - - "If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, - I wot sae was he mine; - And it's O my sister Annie! - Your love ye sallna tyne.[193] - - "Tak your husband, my sister dear; - You ne'er were wrangd for me, - Beyond a kiss o' his merry mouth - As we cam owre the sea. - - "Seven ships, loaded weel, - Cam owre the sea wi' me; - Ane o' them will tak me hame, - And six I'll gie to thee." - - - 424 HELEN OF KIRCONNELL - - ... I wish I were where Helen lies, - Night and day on me she cries; - O that I were where Helen lies - On fair Kirconnell lea! - - Curst be the heart that thought the thought, - And curst the hand that fired the shot, - When in my arms burd Helen dropt, - And died for sake o' me! - - O think na but my heart was sair - When my love dropt down and spak nae mair; - I laid her down wi' meikle care - On fair Kirconnell lea. - - As I went down the water-side, - None but my foe to be my guide, - None but my foe to be my guide, - On fair Kirconnell lea; - - I lighted down, my sword to draw, - I hackèd him in pieces sma', - I hackèd him in pieces sma', - For her that died for me. - - O Helen fair, beyond compare, - I'll make a garland of thy hair - Shall bind my heart for evermair, - Until the day I die. - - O that I were where Helen lies, - Night and day on me she cries; - Out of my bed she bids me rise, - Says, "Haste and come to me!" - - O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! - If I were with thee, I were blest, - Where thou lies low and takes thy rest - On fair Kirconnell lea. - - I wish my grave were growing green, - A winding-sheet drawn ower my een, - And I in Helen's arms lying, - On fair Kirconnell lea. - - I wish I were where Helen lies, - Night and day on me she cries; - And I am weary of the skies, - Since my love died for me. - - - 425 THE BONNIE BOWER - - THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW - - My love he built me a bonnie bower, - And clad it a' wi' lily flower; - A brawer bower ye ne'er did see, - Than my true-love he built for me. - - There came a man, by middle day, - He spied his sport, and went away; - And brought the king that very night, - Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. - - He slew my knight, to me sae dear; - He slew my knight, and poin'd his gear:[194] - My servants all for life did flee, - And left me in extremitie. - - I sewed his sheet, making my mane; - I watched the corpse, mysel alane; - I watched his body night and day; - No living creature came that way. - - I took his body on my back, - And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat; - I digged a grave, and laid him in, - And happed him with the sod sae green. - - But think na' ye my heart was sair, - When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair? - O, think na' ye my heart was wae, - When I turned about, away to gae? - - Nae living man I'll love again, - Since that my lovely knight is slain; - Wi' ae lock o' his yellow hair - I'll chain my heart for evermair. - - - 426 WEEP NO MORE - - Weep no more, nor sigh nor groan, - Sorrow calls no time that's gone: - Violets plucked, the sweetest rain - Makes not fresh nor grow again; - Trim thy locks, look chearfully, - Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see. - Joys as wingèd dreams fly fast, - Why should sadness longer last? - Grief is but a wound to woe; - Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.[195] - - JOHN FLETCHER - - - 427 THE TWA SISTERS - - There were twa sisters sat in a bowr; - _Binnorie, O Binnorie_: - There came a knight to be their wooer - _By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie_. - - He courted the eldest wi' glove an ring, - But he lov'd the youngest above a' thing.[196] - - He courted the eldest wi' brotch an knife, - But lov'd the youngest as his life. - - The eldest she was vexed sair, - An' much envi'd her sister fair. - - Into[197] her bow'r she could not rest, - Wi' grief an spite she almos brast. - - Upon a morning fair an' clear, - She cried upon her sister dear:-- - - "O sister, come to yon sea stran, - An see our father's ships come to lan." - - She's ta'en her by the milk-white han, - An led her down to yon sea stran. - - The youngest stood upon a stane, - The eldest came an threw her in. - - She tooke her by the middle sma,' - An dashed her bonny back to the jaw.[198] - - "O sister, sister, tak my han, - And Ise mack[199] you heir to a' my lan. - - "O sister, sister, tak my middle, - An yes get[200] my goud and my gouden girdle. - - "O sister, sister, save my life, - An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife." - - "Foul fa' the han that I should tacke, - It twin'd me an my wardles make.[201] - - "Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair - Gars me gae maiden for evermair." - - Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam, - Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam. - - O out it came the miller's son, - An' saw the fair maid swimmin in. - - "O father, father, draw your dam, - Here's either a mermaid or a swan." - - The miller quickly drew the dam, - An there he found a drown'd woman. - - You coudna see her yallow hair - For gold and pearle that were so rare. - - You coudna see her middle sma' - For gouden girdle that was sae braw. - - You coudna see her fingers white, - For gouden rings that was sae gryte.[202] - - An by there came a harper fine, - That harped to the king at dine. - - When he did look that lady upon, - He sigh'd and made a heavy moan. - - He's taen three locks o' her yallow hair, - An wi' them strung his harp sae fair. - - The first tune he did play and sing, - Was, "Farewell to my father the king." - - The nextin tune that he play'd syne, - Was, "Farewell to my mother the queen." - - The lastin tune that he play'd then, - Was, "Wae to my sister, fair Ellen." - - - 428 SWEET WILLIAM AND MAY MARGARET - - There came a ghost to Margret's door, - With many a grievous groan; - And aye he tirlèd at the pin, - But answer made she none.... - - "Is that my father Philip? - Or is't my brother John? - Or is't my true-love Willie, - From Scotland new come home?" - - 'Tis not thy father Philip, - Nor yet thy brother John, - But' tis thy true-love Willie, - From Scotland new come home. - - "O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, - I pray thee speak to me; - Give me my faith and troth, Margret, - As I gave it to thee." - - "Thy faith and troth thou's never get, - Nor yet will I thee lend, - Till that thou come within my bower - And kiss me cheek and chin." - - "If I shou'd come within thy bower, - I am no earthly man; - And shou'd I kiss thy ruby lips, - Thy days would not be lang. - - "O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, - I pray thee speak to me; - Give me my faith and troth, Margret, - As I gave it to thee." - - "Thy faith and troth thou's never get, - Nor yet will I thee lend, - Till thou take me to yon kirk-yard, - And wed me with a ring." - - "My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard - Afar beyond the sea; - And it is but my spirit, Margret, - That's now speaking to thee." - - She stretched out her lily-white hand, - And, for to do her best: - "Hae, there's your faith and troth, Willie; - God send your soul good rest."... - - Now she has kilted her robes o' green - A piece below her knee, - And a' the live-lang winter night - The dead corp followed she. - - "Is there any room at your head, Willie, - Or any room at your feet? - Or any room at your side, Willie, - Wherein that I may creep?" - - "There's nae room at my head, Margret, - There's nae room at my feet; - There's nae room at my side, Margret, - My coffin's made so meet." - - Then up and crew the red, red cock, - And up and crew the grey; - "'Tis time, 'tis time, my dear Margret, - That you were gane awa'." - - - 429 THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL - - There lived a wife at Usher's Well - And a wealthy wife was she; - She had three stout and stalwart sons, - And sent them o'er the sea. - - They hadna been a week from her, - A week but barely ane, - Whan word came to the carline wife - That her three sons were gane. - - They hadna been a week from her, - A week but barely three, - Whan word came to the carline wife - That her sons she'd never see. - - "I wish the wind may never cease, - Nor fashes in the flood, - Till my three sons come hame to me, - In earthly flesh and blood."-- - - It fell about the Martinmass, - When nights are lang and mirk, - The carline wife's three sons came hame, - And their hats were o the birk. - - It neither grew in syke nor ditch, - Nor yet in ony sheugh; - But at the gates o' Paradise - That birk grew fair eneugh.... - - "Blow up the fire, my maidens, - Bring water from the well; - For a' my house shall feast this night - Since my three sons are well." - - And she has made to them a bed, - She's made it large and wide; - And she's ta'en her mantle her about, - Sat down at the bedside. - - "Lie still, lie still but a little wee while, - Lie still but if we may; - Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes - She'll go mad ere it be day. - - "Our mother has nae mair but us; - See where she leans asleep; - The mantle that was on herself, - She has happ'd it round our feet." - - Up then crew the red, red cock, - And up and crew the grey; - The eldest to the youngest said, - "'Tis time we were away!" - - The cock he hadna crawed but once, - And clapped his wings at a', - When the youngest to the eldest said, - "Brother, we must awa'. - - "The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, - The channerin worm doth chide; - Gin we be mist out o' our place, - A sair pain we maun bide. - - "Fare ye weel, my mother dear! - Fareweel to barn and byre! - And fare ye weel, the bonny lass - That kindles my mother's fire!" - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - EVENING AND DREAM - - - 430 DREAM-PEDLARY - - If there were dreams to sell, - What would you buy? - Some cost a passing bell; - Some a light sigh, - That shakes from Life's fresh crown - Only a rose-leaf down. - If there were dreams to sell, - Merry and sad to tell, - And the crier rang the bell, - What would you buy? - - A cottage lone and still, - With bowers nigh, - Shadowy, my woes to still, - Until I die. - Such peace from Life's fresh crown - Fain would I shake me down. - Were dreams to have at will, - This would best heal my ill, - This would I buy. - - THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES - - - 431 THE EVENING SUN - - The evening sun was sinking down - On low green hills and clustered trees; - It was a scene as fair and lone - As ever felt the soothing breeze - - That cools the grass when day is gone, - And gives the waves a brighter blue, - And makes the soft white clouds sail on-- - Like spirits of ethereal dew - - Which all the morn had hovered o'er - The azure flowers, where they were nursed, - And now return to Heaven once more, - Where their bright glories shone at first. - - EMILY BRONTË - - - 432 TO THE EVENING STAR - - Thou Fair-haired Angel of the Evening, - Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light - Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown - Put on, and smile upon our evening bed! - Smile on our loves; and while thou drawest the - Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew - On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes - In timely sleep. Let thy West Wind sleep on - The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes, - And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon, - Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide, - And the lion glares through the dun forest: - The fleeces of the flocks are covered with - Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 433 TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON - - Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night - Hath not as yet begun - To make a seisure on the light, - Or to seale up the Sun. - - No Marigolds yet closèd are; - No shadowes great appeare: - Nor doth the early Shepheard's Starre - Shine like a spangle here. - - Stay but till my _Julia_ close - Her life-begetting eye; - And let the whole world then dispose - It selfe to live or dye. - - ROBERT HERRICK - - - 434 OF THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN - - What, hast thou run thy Race? Art going down? - Thou seemest angry, why dost on us frown? - Yea wrap thy head with Clouds, and hide thy face, - As threatning to withdraw from us thy Grace? - Oh leave us not! When once thou hid'st thy head, - Our Hórizon with darkness will be spread. - Tell's, who hath thee offended? Turn again: - Alas! too late--Entreaties are in vain!... - - JOHN BUNYAN - - - 435 VIRTUE - - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright - The bridal of the earth and skie: - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, - For thou must die. - - Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave - Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, - Thy root is ever in its grave, - And thou must die. - - Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, - A box where sweets compacted lie, - My music shows ye have your closes, - And all must die. - - Only a sweet and vertuous soul, - Like seasoned timber, never gives; - But though the whole world turn to coal, - Then chiefly lives. - - GEORGE HERBERT - - - 436 NIGHT - - The sun descending in the west, - The evening star does shine; - The birds are silent in their nest, - And I must seek for mine. - The moon, like a flower, - In heaven's high bower, - With silent delight - Sits and smiles on the night. - - Farewell green fields and happy groves, - Where flocks have took delight. - Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves - The feet of angels bright; - Unseen they pour blessing, - And joy without ceasing, - On each bud and blossom, - And each sleeping bosom. - - They look in every thoughtless nest, - Where birds are covered warm; - They visit caves of every beast, - To keep them all from harm. - If they see any weeping, - That should have been sleeping, - They pour sleep on their head, - And sit down by their bed. - - When wolves and tygers howl for prey, - They pitying stand and weep; - Seeking to drive their thirst away, - And keep them from the sheep. - But if they rush dreadful, - The angels, most heedful, - Receive each mild spirit, - New worlds to inherit. - - And there the lion's ruddy eyes - Shall flow with tears of gold, - And pitying the tender cries, - And walking round the fold, - Saying, "Wrath, by his meekness, - And, by his health, sickness - Is driven away - From our immortal day. - - "And now beside thee, bleating lamb, - I can lie down and sleep; - Or think on Him who bore thy name, - Graze after thee and weep. - For, washed in life's river, - My bright mane for ever - Shall shine like the gold, - As I guard o'er the fold." - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 437 NURSE'S SONG - - When the voices of children are heard on the green, - And laughing is heard on the hill, - My heart is at rest within my breast, - And everything else is still. - - "Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, - And the dews of night arise; - Come, come, leave off play, and let us away - Till the morning appears in the skies." - - "No, no, let us play, for it is yet day, - And we cannot go to sleep; - Besides, in the sky the little birds fly, - And the hills are all covered with sheep." - - "Well, well, go and play till the light fades away, - And then go home to bed." - The little ones leapèd and shouted and laughed - And all the hills echoèd. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 438 THE EVENING PRIMROSE - - When once the sun sinks in the west, - And dew-drops pearl the evening's breast; - Almost as pale as moonbeams are, - Or its companionable star, - The evening primrose opes anew - Its delicate blossoms to the dew; - And, shunning hermit of the light, - Wastes its fair bloom upon the night; - Who, blindfold to its fond caresses, - Knows not the beauty he possesses. - Thus it blooms on till night is bye - And day looks out with open eye, - Abashed at the gaze it cannot shun, - It faints and withers, and is done. - - EMILY BRONTË - - - 439 "TIME, YOU OLD GIPSY MAN" - - Time, you old gipsy man, - Will you not stay, - Put up your caravan - Just for one day? - - All things I'll give you - Will you be my guest, - Bells for your jennet - Of silver the best, - Goldsmiths shall beat you - A great golden ring - Peacocks shall bow to you, - Little boys sing, - Oh, and sweet girls will - Festoon you with may. - Time, you old gipsy, - Why hasten away? - - Last week in Babylon, - Last night in Rome, - Morning, and in the crush - Under Paul's dome; - Under Paul's dial - You tighten your rein-- - Only a moment, - And off once again; - Off to some city - Now blind in the womb, - Off to another - Ere that's in the tomb. - - Time, you old gipsy man, - Will you not stay, - Put up your caravan - Just for one day? - - RALPH HODGSON - - - 440 AFTERWARDS - - When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, - And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, - Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, - "He was a man who used to notice such things"? - - If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink, - The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight - Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think, - "To him this must have been a familiar sight." - - If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm, - When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn, - One may say, "He strove that such innocent creatures should come - to no harm, - But he could do little for them; and now he is gone." - - If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at - the door, - Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees, - Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more, - "He was one who had an eye for such mysteries"? - - And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom, - And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings, - Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom, - "He hears it not now, but used to notice such things"? - - THOMAS HARDY - - - 441 STEPPING WESTWARD - - "What, you are stepping westward?"--"Yea." - --'Twould be a wildish destiny, - If we, who thus together roam - In a strange land, and far from home, - Were in this place the guests of chance; - Yet who would stop, or fear to advance, - Though home or shelter he had none, - With such a sky to lead him on?" - - The dewy ground was dark and cold; - Behind, all gloomy to behold; - And stepping westward seemed to be - A kind of heavenly destiny; - I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound - Of something without place or bound; - And seemed to give me spiritual right - To travel through that region bright. - - The voice was soft, and she who spake - Was walking by her native lake; - The salutation had to me - The very sound of courtesy; - Its power was felt; and while my eye - Was fixed upon the glowing sky, - The echo of the voice enwrought - A human sweetness with the thought - Of travelling through the world that lay - Before me in my endless way. - - WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - - - 442 FOLDING THE FLOCKS - - Shepherds all, and Maidens fair, - Fold your Flocks up; for the Air - 'Gins to thicken, and the Sun - Already his great course hath run. - See the Dew-drops how they kiss - Every little Flower that is: - Hanging on their Velvet Heads, - Like a Rope of Cristal Beads. - See the heavy Clouds low falling, - And bright _Hesperus_ down calling - The dead Night from under Ground, - At whose rising, Mists unsound, - Damps and Vapours fly apace, - Hov'ring o'er the smiling Face - Of these Pastures, where they come, - Striking dead both Bud and Bloom; - Therefore, from such Danger, lock - Ev'ry one of his lovèd Flock; - And let your Dogs lie loose without, - Lest the Wolf come as a scout - From the Mountain, and, ere day, - Bear a Lamb or Kid away; - Or the crafty, thievish Fox - Break upon your simple Flocks: - - To secure yourself from these - Be not too secure in ease; - Let one Eye his watches keep, - While the other Eye doth sleep; - So shall you good Shepherds prove, - And deserve your Master's love. - Now, good night! may Sweetest Slumbers - And soft Silence fall in numbers - On your Eye-lids: So, farewell; - Thus I end my Evening knell. - - JOHN FLETCHER - - - 443 TO THE NIGHT - - Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, - Spirit of Night! - Out of the misty eastern cave, - Where, all the long and lone daylight, - Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, - Which make thee terrible and dear,-- - Swift be thy flight! - - Wrap thy form in a mantle grey - Star-inwrought; - Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day, - Kiss her until she be wearied out: - Then wander o'er city and sea and land, - Touching all with thine opiate wand-- - Come, long-sought! - - When I arose and saw the dawn - I sighed for thee; - When light rode high, and the dew was gone, - And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, - And the weary Day turned to his rest, - Lingering like an unloved guest, - I sighed for thee. - - Thy brother Death came, and cried - Wouldst thou me? - Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, - Murmured like a noon-tide bee, - Shall I nestle near thy side? - Wouldst thou me?--And I replied - No, not thee! - - Death will come when thou art dead, - Soon, too soon-- - Sleep will come when thou art fled; - Of neither would I ask the boon - I ask of thee, belovèd Night-- - Swift be thine approaching flight, - Come soon, soon! - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 444 LIGHT THE LAMPS UP, LAMPLIGHTER! - - (FOR A LAMPLIGHTER, A GRANDMOTHER, THE ANGEL GABRIEL, AND ANY - NUMBER OF OTHERS) - - Light the lamps up, Lamplighter, - The people are in the street-- - Without a light - They have no sight, - And where will they plant their feet? - Some will tread in the gutter, - And some in the mud--oh dear! - Light the lamps up, Lamplighter, - Because the night is here. - - Light the candles, Grandmother, - The children are going to bed-- - Without a wick - They'll stumble and stick, - And where will they lay their head? - Some will lie on the staircase, - And some in the hearth--oh dear! - Light the candles, Grandmother, - Because the night is here. - - Light the stars up, Gabriel, - The cherubs are out to fly-- - If heaven is blind - How will they find - Their way across the sky? - Some will splash in the Milky Way, - Or bump on the moon--oh dear! - Light the stars up, Gabriel, - Because the night is here. - - ELEANOR FARJEON - - - 445 WILL YOU COME? - - Will you come? - Will you come? - Will you ride - So late - At my side? - O, will you come? - - Will you come? - Will you come - If the night - Has a moon, - Full and bright? - O, will you come? - - Would you come? - Would you come - If the noon - Gave light, - Not the moon? - Beautiful, would you come? - - Would you have come? - Would you have come - Without scorning, - Had it been - Still morning? - Beloved, would you have come? - - If you come - Haste and come. - Owls have cried; - It grows dark - To ride. - Beloved, beautiful, come! - - EDWARD THOMAS - - - 446 COME! - - Wull ye come in eärly Spring, - Come at Easter, or in Mäy? - Or when Whitsuntide mid bring - Longer light to show your wäy? - Wull ye come, if you be true, - Vor to quicken love anew? - Wull ye call in Spring or Fall? - Come now soon by zun or moon? - Wull ye come? - - Come wi' väice to väice the while - All their words be sweet to hear; - Come that feäce to feäce mid smile, - While their smiles do seem so dear; - Come within the year to seek - Woone you have sought woonce a week? - Come while flow'rs be on the bow'rs, - And the bird o' songs a-heärd. - Wull ye come? - - Ees come _to_ ye, an' come _vor_ ye, is my word, - I wull come. - - WILLIAM BARNES - - - 447 HYMN TO DIANA - - Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, - Now the sun is laid to sleep, - Seated in thy silver chair, - State in wonted manner keep; - Hesperus entreats thy light, - Goddess excellently bright. - - Earth, let not thy envious shade - Dare itself to interpose; - Cynthia's shining orb was made - Heaven to clear when day did close: - Bless us then with wishèd sight, - Goddess excellently bright. - - Lay thy bow of pearl apart, - And thy crystal shining quiver; - Give unto the flying hart - Space to breathe, how short soever: - Thou that mak'st a day of night, - Goddess excellently bright. - - BEN JONSON - - - 448 THE CLOUDS HAVE LEFT THE SKY - - The clouds have left the sky, - The wind hath left the sea, - The half-moon up on high - Shrinketh her face of dree. - - She lightens on the comb - Of leaden waves, that roar - And thrust their hurried foam - Up on the dusky shore. - - Behind the western bars - The shrouded day retreats, - And unperceived the stars - Steal to their sovran seats. - - And whiter grows the foam, - The small moon lightens more; - And as I turn me home, - My shadow walks before. - - ROBERT BRIDGES - - - 449 WITH HOW SAD STEPS - - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies! - How silently, and with how wan a face! - What! may it be that even in heavenly place - That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? - Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes - Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case: - I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace - To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. - - Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, - Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? - Are beauties there as proud as here they be? - Do they above love to be loved, and yet - Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? - Do they call virtue there ungratefulness? - - SIR PHILIP SIDNEY - - - 450 IN DISPRAISE OF THE MOON - - I would not be the Moon, the sickly thing, - To summon owls and bats upon the wing; - For when the noble Sun is gone away, - She turns his night into a pallid day. - - She hath no air, no radiance of her own, - That world unmusical of earth and stone. - She wakes her dim, uncoloured, voiceless hosts, - Ghost of the Sun, herself the sun of ghosts. - - The mortal eyes that gaze too long on her - Of Reason's piercing ray defrauded are. - Light in itself doth feed the living brain; - That light, reflected, but makes darkness plain. - - MARY COLERIDGE - - - 451 THE WANING MOON - - And like a dying lady, lean and pale, - Who totters forth, wrapt in a gauzy veil, - Out of her chamber, led by the insane - And feeble wanderings of her fading brain, - The moon arose up in the murky east, - A white and shapeless mass. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 452 WE'LL GO NO MORE A-ROVING - - So, we'll go no more a-roving - So late into the night, - Though the heart be still as loving, - And the moon be still as bright. - - For the sword outwears its sheath, - And the soul wears out the breast, - And the heart must pause to breathe, - And love itself have rest. - - Though the night was made for loving, - And the day returns too soon, - Yet we'll go no more a-roving - By the light of the moon. - - GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON - - - 453 SONG OF THE NIGHT AT DAYBREAK - - All my stars forsake me, - And the dawn-winds shake me. - Where shall I betake me? - - Whither shall I run - Till the set of sun, - Till the day be done? - - To the mountain-mine, - To the boughs o' the pine, - To the blind man's eyne, - - To a brow that is - Bowed upon the knees, - Sick with memories. - - ALICE MEYNELL - - - 454 THE NIGHT WILL NEVER STAY - - The night will never stay, - The night will still go by, - Though with a million stars - You pin it to the sky; - Though you bind it with the blowing wind - And buckle it with the moon, - The night will slip away - Like sorrow or a tune. - - ELEANOR FARJEON - - - 455 LINES FOR A BED AT KELMSCOTT MANOR - - "The wind's on the wold - And the night is a-cold, - And Thames runs chill - Twixt mead and hill, - But kind and dear - Is the old house here, - And my heart is warm - Midst winter's harm. - Rest then and rest, - And think of the best - Twixt summer and spring - When all birds sing - In the town of the tree, - And ye lie in me - And scarce dare move - Lest earth and its love - Should fade away - Ere the full of the day. - - I am old and have seen - Many things that have been, - Both grief and peace, - And wane and increase. - No tale I tell - Of ill or well, - But this I say, - Night treadeth on day, - And for worst and best - Right good is rest." - - WILLIAM MORRIS - - - 456 ROCK, BALL, FIDDLE - - He that lies at the stock, - Shall have the gold rock; - He that lies at the wall, - Shall have the gold ball; - He that lies in the middle, - Shall have the gold fiddle. - - - 457 BEFORE SLEEPING - - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, - Bless the bed that I lie on. - Before I lay me down to sleep - I give my soul to Christ to keep. - Four corners to my bed, - Four angels there aspread, - Two to foot, and two to head, - And four to carry me when I'm dead. - - I go by sea, I go by land, - The Lord made me with His right hand. - If any danger come to me, - Sweet Jesus Christ deliver me. - He's the branch and I'm the flower, - Pray God send me a happy hour, - And if I die before I wake, - I pray that Christ my soul will take. - - - 458 ON A QUIET CONSCIENCE - - Close thine eyes, and sleep secure; - Thy soul is safe, thy body sure. - He that guards thee, he that keeps, - Never slumbers, never sleeps. - A quiet conscience in the breast - Has only peace, has only rest. - The wisest and the mirth of kings - Are out of tune unless she sings: - Then close thine eyes in peace and sleep secure, - No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure. - - CHARLES I. - - - 459 SONG - - While Morpheus thus does gently lay - His powerful charge upon each part - Making thy spirits even obey - The silver charms of his dull art; - - I, thy Good Angel, from thy side,-- - As smoke doth from the altar rise, - Making no noise as it doth glide,-- - Will leave thee in this soft surprise; - - And from the clouds will fetch thee down - A holy vision, to express - Thy right unto an earthly crown; - No power can make this kingdom less. - - But gently, gently, lest I bring - A start in sleep by sudden flight, - Playing aloof, and hovering, - Till I am lost unto the sight. - - This is a motion still and soft; - So free from noise and cry, - That Jove himself, who hears a thought, - Knows not when we pass by. - - HENRY KILLIGREW - - - 460 THE EVE OF SAINT MARK - - Upon a Sabbath-day it fell; - Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell, - That called the folk to evening prayer; - The city streets were clean and fair - From wholesome drench of April rains; - And, on the western window panes, - The chilly sunset faintly told - Of unmatured green vallies cold, - Of the green thorny bloomless hedge, - Of rivers new with spring-tide sedge, - Of primroses by sheltered rills, - And daisies on the aguish hills. - Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell: - The silent streets were crowded well - With staid and pious companies, - Warm from their fire-side oratories; - And moving, with demurest air, - To even-song, and vesper-prayer. - Each archèd porch, and entry low, - Was filled with patient folk and slow, - With whispers hush, and shuffling feet, - While played the organ loud and sweet. - The bells had ceased, the prayers begun, - And Bertha had not yet half done - - A curious volume, patched and torn, - That all day long, from earliest morn, - Had taken captive her two eyes, - Among its golden broideries; - Perplexed her with a thousand things,-- - The stars of Heaven, and angels' wings, - Martyrs in a fiery blaze, - Azure saints in silver rays, - Moses' breastplate, and the seven - Candlesticks John saw in Heaven, - The winged Lion of Saint Mark, - And the Covenantal Ark, - With its many mysteries, - Cherubim and golden mice. - - Bertha was a maiden fair, - Dwelling in the old Minster-square; - From her fire-side she could see, - Sidelong, its rich antiquity, - Far as the Bishop's garden-wall; - Where sycamores and elm-trees tall, - Full-leaved, the forest had outstript, - By no sharp north-wind ever nipt, - So sheltered by the mighty pile, - Bertha arose, and read awhile, - With forehead 'gainst the window-pane, - Again she tryed, and then again, - Until the dusk eve left her dark - Upon the legend of St. Mark. - From plaited lawn-frill, fine and thin, - She lifted up her soft warm chin, - With aching neck and swimming eyes, - And dazed with saintly imageries. - - All was gloom, and silent all, - Save now and then the still foot-fall - Of one returning homewards late, - Past the echoing minster-gate. - The clamorous daws, that all the day - Above tree-tops and towers play, - Pair by pair had gone to rest, - Each in its ancient belfry-nest, - Where asleep they fall betimes, - To music of the drowsy chimes. - - All was silent, all was gloom, - Abroad and in the homely room: - Down she sat, poor cheated soul! - And struck a lamp from the dismal coal; - Leaned forward, with bright drooping hair - And slant book, full against the glare. - Her shadow, in uneasy guise, - Hovered about, a giant size, - On ceiling-beam and old oak chair, - The parrot's cage, and panel square; - And the warm angled winter screen, - On which were many monsters seen, - Called doves of Siam, Lima mice, - And legless birds of Paradise, - Macaw, and tender Avadavat, - And silken-furred Angora cat. - Untired she read, her shadow still - Glowered about, as it would fill - The room with wildest forms and shades, - As though some ghostly queen of spades - Had come to mock behind her back, - And dance, and ruffle her garments black. - Untired she read the legend page, - Of holy Mark, from youth to age, - On land, on sea, in pagan chains, - Rejoicing for his many pains. - Sometimes the learned eremite, - With golden star, or dagger bright, - Referred to pious poesies - Written in smallest crow-quill size - Beneath the text; and thus the rhyme - Was parcelled out from time to time:-- - "'Gif ye wol stonden[203] hardie wight-- - AmiddÄ—s of the blackÄ— night-- - Righte in the churchÄ— porch, pardie - Ye wol behold a companie - Approchen thee full dolourouse: - For sooth to sain from everich house - Be it in city or villà ge - Wol come the Phantom and imà ge - Of ilka[204] gent and ilka carle - Whom coldÄ— DeathÄ— hath in parle - And wol some day that very year - Touchen with foulÄ— venime spear - And sadly do them all to die.-- - Hem all shalt thou see verilie-- - And everichon shall by thee pass - All who must die that year, Alas.' - - "Als[205] writith he of swevenis,[206] - Men han beforne they wake in bliss, - Whanne that hir friendÄ—s thinke hem bound - In crimpèd shroude farre under grounde; - And how a litling child mote be - A saint er its nativitie, - Gif that the modre--God her blesse!-- - Kepen in solitarinesse, - And kissen devoute the holy croce-- - Of GoddÄ—s love, and Sathan's force,-- - He writith; and thinges many mo, - Of swichÄ— thinges I may not show. - Bot I must tellen verilie - Somdel of SaintÄ— Cicilie, - And chieflie what he auctoriethe - Of SaintÄ— Markis life and dethe:" - - At length her constant eyelids come - Upon the fervent martyrdom; - Then lastly to his holy shrine, - Exalt amid the tapers' shine - At Venice.... - - JOHN KEATS - - - 461 LAID IN MY QUIET BED - - Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I were, - I saw within my troubled head a heap of thoughts appear; - And every thought did shew so lively in mine eyes, - That now I sighed, and then I smiled, as cause of thought did rise. - I saw the little boy in thought how oft that he - Did wish of God, to scape the rod, a tall young man to be. - The young man eke that feels his bones with pains opprest, - How he would be a rich old man, to live and lie at rest. - The rich old man that sees his end draw on so sore, - How he would be a boy again, to live so much the more. - Whereat full oft I smiled, to see how all these three, - From boy to man, from man to boy, would chop and change degree.... - - HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY - - - 462 AT NIGHT - - Home, home from the horizon far and clear, - Hither the soft wings sweep; - Flocks of the memories of the day draw near - The dovecote doors of sleep. - - Oh, which are they that come through sweetest light - Of all these homing birds? - Which with the straightest and the swiftest flight? - Your words to me, your words! - - ALICE MEYNELL - - - 463 ECHO - - Come to me in the silence of the night; - Come in the speaking silence of a dream; - Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright - As sunlight on a stream; - Come back in tears, - O memory, hope, love of finished years. - - O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, - Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, - Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet; - Where thirsting longing eyes - Watch the slow door - That opening, letting in, lets out no more. - - Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live - My very life again though cold in death: - Come back to me in dreams, that I may give - Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: - Speak low, lean low, - As long ago, my love, how long ago. - - CHRISTINA ROSSETTI - - - 464 THE SHADOW OF NIGHT - - How strange it is to wake - And watch while others sleep, - Till sight and hearing ache - For objects that may keep - The awful inner sense - Unroused, lest it should mark - The life that haunts the emptiness - And horror of the dark. - - How strange the distant bay - Of dogs; how wild the note - Of cocks that scream for day, - In homesteads far remote; - How strange and wild to hear - The old and crumbling tower, - Amidst the darkness, suddenly - Take life and speak the hour.... - - The nightingale is gay, - For she can vanquish night; - Dreaming, she sings of day, - Notes that make darkness bright: - But when the refluent gloom - Saddens the gaps of song, - We charge on her the dolefulness, - And call her crazed with wrong. - - COVENTRY PATMORE - - - 465 OUT IN THE DARK - - Out in the dark over the snow - The fallow fawns invisible go - With the fallow doe; - And the winds blow - Fast as the stars are slow. - - Stealthily the dark haunts round - And, when the lamp goes, without sound - At a swifter bound - Than the swiftest hound, - Arrives, and all else is drowned; - - And I and star and wind and deer, - Are in the dark together,--near, - Yet far,--and fear - Drums on my ear - In that sage company drear. - - How weak and little is the light, - All the universe of sight, - Love and delight, - Before the might, - If you love it not, of night. - - EDWARD THOMAS - - - 466 NOCTURNE - - The red flame flowers bloom and die, - The embers puff a golden spark. - Now and again a horse's eye - Shines like a topaz in the dark. - - A prowling jackal jars the hush, - The drowsy oxen chump and sigh-- - The ghost moon lifts above the bush - And creeps across the starry sky. - - Low in the south the "Cross" is bright, - And sleep comes dreamless, undefiled, - Here in the blue and silver night, - In the star-chamber of the Wild. - - CROSBIE GARSTIN - - - 467 THE ANGEL - - I dreamt a Dream! what can it mean? - And that I was a maiden Queen - Guarded by an Angel mild: - Witless woe was ne'er beguiled! - - And I wept both night and day, - And he wiped my tears away; - And I wept both day and night, - And hid from him my heart's delight. - - So he took his wings and fled; - Then the morn blushed rosy red; - I dried my tears, and armed my fears - With ten thousand shields and spears. - - Soon my Angel came again; - I was armed, he came in vain; - For the time of youth was fled, - And grey hairs were on my head. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 468 "ANGEL SPIRITS OF SLEEP" - - Angel spirits of sleep, - White-robed, with silver hair, - In your meadows fair, - Where the willows weep, - And the sad moonbeam - On the gliding stream - Writes her scattered dream: - - Angel spirits of sleep, - Dancing to the weir - In the hollow roar - Of its waters deep; - Know ye how men say - That ye haunt no more - Isle and grassy shore - With your moonlit play; - That ye dance not here, - White-robed spirits of sleep, - All the summer night - Threading dances light? - - ROBERT BRIDGES - - - 469 A DREAM - - Once a dream did weave a shade - O'er my Angel-guarded bed, - That an Emmet lost its way - Where on grass methought I lay. - - Troubled, 'wildered, and forlorn, - Dark, benighted, travel-worn, - Over many a tangled spray, - All heart-broke I heard her say: - - "O my children! do they cry? - Do they hear their father sigh? - Now they look abroad to see: - Now return and weep for me." - - Pitying, I dropped a tear; - But I saw a glow-worm near, - Who replied: "What wailing wight - Calls the watchman of the night? - - "I am set to light the ground, - While the beetle goes his round: - Follow now the beetle's hum; - Little wanderer, hie thee home." - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 470 THE LAND OF DREAMS - - Awake, awake, my little Boy! - Thou wast thy Mother's only joy: - Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? - Awake! thy Father does thee keep. - - "O, what land is the Land of Dreams, - What are its mountains, and what are its streams? - O Father! I saw my Mother there, - Among the Lillies by waters fair. - - "Among the lambs clothèd in white, - She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight. - I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn; - O! when shall I again return?" - - Dear Child, I also by pleasant streams - Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams, - But tho' calm and warm the waters wide, - I could not get to the other side. - - "Father, O Father! what do we here, - In this Land of unbelief and fear? - The Land of Dreams is better far - Above the light of the Morning Star." - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - THE GARDEN - - - 471 I KNOW A LITTLE GARDEN-CLOSE - - I know a little garden-close - Set thick with lily and red rose, - Where I would wander if I might - From dewy dawn to dewy night, - And have one with me wandering. - - And though within it no birds sing, - And though no pillared house is there, - And though the apple boughs are bare - Of fruit and blossom, would to God, - Her feet upon the green grass trod, - And I beheld them as before. - - There comes a murmur from the shore, - And in the close two fair streams are, - Drawn from the purple hills afar, - Drawn down unto the restless sea; - Dark hills whose heath-bloom feeds no bee, - Dark shores no ship has ever seen, - Tormented by the billows green - Whose murmur comes unceasingly - Unto the place for which I cry. - - For which I cry both day and night, - For which I let slip all delight, - Whereby I grow both deaf and blind, - Careless to win, unskilled to find, - And quick to lose what all men seek. - Yet tottering as I am, and weak, - Still have I left a little breath - To seek within the jaws of death - An entrance to that happy place, - To seek the unforgotten face, - Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me - Anigh the murmuring of the sea. - - WILLIAM MORRIS - - - 472 FOLLOW - - Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow, - Though thou be black as night, - And she made all of light, - Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow. - - Follow her whose light thy light depriveth, - Though here thou liv'st disgraced, - And she in heaven is placed, - Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth. - - Follow those pure beams whose beauty burneth, - That so have scorchèd thee, - As thou still black must be, - Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth. - - Follow her while yet her glory shineth: - There comes a luckless night, - That will dim all her light; - And this the black unhappy shade divineth. - - Follow still since so thy fates ordainèd; - The Sun must have his shade, - Till both at once do fade-- - The Sun still proud, the shadow still disdainèd. - - THOMAS CAMPION - - - 473 UP-HILL - - Does the road wind up-hill all the way? - Yes, to the very end. - Will the day's journey take the whole long day? - From morn to night, my friend. - - But is there for the night a resting-place? - A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. - May not the darkness hide it from my face? - You cannot miss that inn. - - Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? - Those who have gone before. - Then must I knock or call when just in sight? - They will not keep you standing at the door. - - Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? - Of labour you shall find the sum. - Will there be beds for me and all who seek? - Yea, beds for all who come. - - CHRISTINA ROSSETTI - - - 474 LOVE - - Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, - Guilty of dust and sin. - But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack - From my first entrance in, - Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning - If I lacked anything. - - "A guest," I answered, "worthy to be here": - Love said, "You shall be he." - "I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear! - I cannot look on Thee." - Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, - "Who made the eyes but I?" - - "Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame - Go where it doth deserve." - "And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?" - "My dear, then I will serve." - "You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat." - So I did sit and eat. - - GEORGE HERBERT - - - 475 A ROYAL GUEST - - ... Yet if His Majesty our sovereign lord - Should of his own accord - Friendly himself invite, - And say, "I'll be your guest to-morrow night," - How should we stir ourselves, call and command - All hands to work! "Let no man idle stand! - - "Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall, - See they be fitted all - Let there be room to eat, - And order taken that there want no meat. - See every sconce and candlestick made bright, - That without tapers they may give a light. - - "Look to the presence: are the carpets spread, - The dazie[207] o'er the head, - The cushions in the chairs, - And all the candles lighted on the stairs? - Perfume the chambers, and in any case - Let each man give attendance in his place!" - - Thus, if the king were coming, would we do, - And 't were good reason too; - For 'tis a duteous thing - To show all honour to an earthly king, - And after all our travail and our cost, - So he be pleased, to think no labour lost. - - But at the coming of the King of Heaven - All's set at six and seven: - We wallow in our sin, - Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn. - We entertain Him always like a stranger, - And, as at first, still lodge Him in a manger. - - - 476 EVE - - Eve, with her basket, was - Deep in the bells and grass, - Wading in bells and grass - Up to her knees, - Picking a dish of sweet - Berries and plums to eat, - Down in the bells and grass - Under the trees. - - Mute as a mouse in a - Corner the cobra lay, - Curled round a bough of the - Cinnamon tall.... - Now to get even and - Humble proud heaven and-- - Now was the moment or - Never at all. - - "Eva!" Each syllable - Light as a flower fell, - "Eva!" he whispered the - Wondering maid, - Soft as a bubble sung - Out of a linnet's lung, - Soft and most silverly - "Eva!" he said. - - Picture that orchard sprite, - Eve, with her body white, - Supple and smooth to her - Slim finger tips, - Wondering, listening, - Listening, wondering, - Eve with a berry - Half-way to her lips. - - Oh, had our simple Eve - Seen through the make-believe! - Had she but known the - Pretender he was! - Out of the boughs he came, - Whispering still her name, - Tumbling in twenty rings - Into the grass. - - Here was the strangest pair - In the world anywhere, - Eve in the bells and grass - Kneeling, and he - Telling his story low.... - Singing birds saw them go - Down the dark path to - The Blasphemous Tree. - - Oh, what a clatter when - Titmouse and Jenny Wren - Saw him successful and - Taking his leave! - How the birds rated him, - How they all hated him! - How they all pitied - Poor motherless Eve! - - Picture her crying, - Outside in the lane, - Eve, with no dish of sweet - Berries and plums to eat, - Haunting the gate of the - Orchard in vain.... - Picture the lewd delight - Under the hill to-night-- - "Eva!" the toast goes round, - "Eva!" again. - - RALPH HODGSON - - - 477 EVE - - "While I sit at the door, - Sick to gaze within, - Mine eye weepeth sore - For sorrow and sin: - As a tree my sin stands - To darken all lands; - Death is the fruit it bore. - - "How have Eden bowers grown - Without Adam to bend them! - How have Eden flowers blown, - Squandering their sweet breath, - Without me to tend them! - The Tree of Life was ours, - Tree twelvefold-fruited, - Most lofty tree that flowers, - Most deeply rooted: - I chose the Tree of Death. - - "Hadst thou but said me nay, - Adam, my brother, - I might have pined away; - I, but none other: - God might have let thee stay - Safe in our garden - By putting me away - Beyond all pardon. - - "I, Eve, sad mother - Of all who must live, - I, not another, - Plucked bitterest fruit to give - My friend, husband, lover. - O wanton eyes run over; - Who but I should grieve?-- - Cain hath slain his brother: - Of all who must die mother, - Miserable Eve!" - - Thus she sat weeping, - Thus Eve our mother, - Where one lay sleeping - Slain by his brother. - Greatest and least - Each piteous beast - To hear her voice - Forgot his joys - And set aside his feast. - - The mouse paused in his walk - And dropped his wheaten stalk; - Grave cattle wagged their heads - In rumination; - The eagle gave a cry - From his cloud station: - Larks on thyme beds - Forbore to mount or sing; - Bees drooped upon the wing; - The raven perched on high - Forgot his ration; - The conies in their rock, - A feeble nation, - Quaked sympathetical; - The mocking-bird left off to mock; - Huge camels knelt as if - In deprecation; - The kind hart's tears were falling; - Chattered the wistful stork; - Dove-voices with a dying fall - Cooed desolation - Answering grief by grief. - Only the serpent in the dust, - Wriggling and crawling, - Grinned an evil grin and thrust - His tongue out with its fork. - - CHRISTINA ROSSETTI - - - 478 ADAM - - Adam lay i-bowndyn, - bowndyn in a bond, - Fowre thowsand wynter - thowt he not to long; - - And al was for an appil, - an appil that he tok, - As clerkes fyndyn wretyn - in here Book. - - Ne hadde the appil takÄ— ben, - the appil taken ben, - Ne hadde never our lady - a ben hevene qwen. - - Blyssid be the tyme - that appil takÄ— was! - Therefore we mown syngyn - _Deo gracias_. - - - 479 THE SEVEN VIRGINS - - All under the leaves and the leaves of life - I met with virgins seven, - And one of them was Mary mild, - Our Lord's mother of Heaven. - - "O what are you seeking, you seven fair maids - All under the leaves of life? - Come tell, come tell, what seek you - All under the leaves of life?" - - "We're seeking for no leaves, Thomas, - But for a friend of thine; - We're seeking for sweet Jesus Christ, - To be our guide and thine." - - "Go down, go down, to yonder town, - And sit in the gallery, - And there you'll see sweet Jesus Christ - Nailed to a big yew-tree." - - So down they went to yonder town - As fast as foot could fall, - And many a grievous bitter tear - From the virgins' eyes did fall. - - "O peace, Mother, O peace, Mother, - Your weeping doth me grieve: - I must suffer this," He said, - "For Adam and for Eve." - - "O Mother, take you John Evangelist - All for to be your son, - And he will comfort you sometimes, - Mother, as I have done." - - "O come, thou John Evangelist, - Thou'rt welcome unto me; - But more welcome my own dear Son, - Whom I nursèd on my knee." - - Then he laid his head on His right shoulder, - Seeing death it struck Him nigh-- - "The Holy Ghost be with your soul, - I die, Mother dear, I die."... - - - 480 LULLY, LULLAY - - Lully, lullay, lully, lullay; - The fawcon hath born my make[208] away. - - He bare hym up, he bare hym down, - He bare hym in to an orchard browne. - - In that orchard there was an halle - That was hangid with purpill and pall. - - And in that hall there was a bede,[209] - Hit was hangid with gold so rede. - - And yn that bede there lythe a knyght, - His woundis bledying day and nyght. - - By that bede side kneleth a may, - And she wepeth both nyght and day. - - And by that bedde side there stondith a ston, - _Corpus Christi_ wretyn ther'on. - - - 481 BALME - - ... There grew a goodly tree him faire beside, - Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red, - As they in pure vermilion had beene dide, - Whereof great vertues over all were red:[210] - For happie life to all, which thereon fed, - And life eke everlasting did befall: - Great God it planted in that blessed sted - With his almightie hand, and did it call - _The tree of life_, the crime of our first father's fall. - - In all the world like was not to be found, - Save in that soile, where all good things did grow, - And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground, - As incorrupted Nature did them sow, - Till that dread Dragon all did overthrow. - Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, - Whereof who so did eat, eftsoones did know - Both good and ill: O mornefull memory: - That tree through one man's fault hath doen us all to dy. - - From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well, - A trickling streame of Balme, most soveraine - And daintie deare, which on the ground still fell, - And overflowèd all the fertill plaine, - And it had deawèd bene with timely raine: - Life and long health that gratious ointment gave, - And deadly woundes could heale, and reare againe - The senselesse corse appointed for the grave. - Into that same he fell: which did from death him save.... - - EDMUND SPENSER - - - 482 MY MASTER HATH A GARDEN - - My master hath a garden, full-filled with divers flowers, - Where thou may'st gather posies gay, all times and hours, - Here nought is heard - But paradise-bird, - Harp, dulcimer, and lute, - With cymbal, - And timbrel, - And the gentle sounding flute. - - Oh! Jesus, Lord, my heal and weal, my bliss complete, - Make thou my heart thy garden-plot, true, fair and neat - That I may hear - This music clear, - Harp, dulcimer, and lute, - With cymbal, - And timbrel, - And the gentle sounding flute. - - - 483 THIS IS THE KEY - - This is the Key of the Kingdom: - In that Kingdom is a city; - In that city is a town; - In that town there is a street; - In that street there winds a lane; - In that lane there is a yard; - In that yard there is a house; - In that house there waits a room; - In that room an empty bed; - And on that bed a basket-- - A Basket of Sweet Flowers: - _Of Flowers, of Flowers;_ - _A Basket of Sweet Flowers_. - - Flowers in a Basket; - Basket on the bed; - Bed in the chamber; - Chamber in the house; - House in the weedy yard; - Yard in the winding lane; - Lane in the broad street; - Street in the high town; - Town in the city; - City in the Kingdom-- - This is the Key of the Kingdom; - _Of the Kingdom this is the Key_. - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - ABOUT AND ROUND ABOUT - - - - - ABOUT AND ROUNDABOUT - -_In Mr. Nahum's_ The Other Worlde, _as I have said on page xxx, there -were many passages written about and roundabout the poems contained in -it. Some of these I copied out. With others that I have added since, -they appear in the following pages. If the reader prefer poems and -poems_ only _in such a collection as this, would he of his kindness and -courtesy ignore everything else? Otherwise, will he please forgive any -blunders he may discover?_ - - - 1. "THIS IS THE KEY." - -This jingle (like Nos. 15, 16 and others) is one of hundreds of nursery -and dandling rhymes which I found in Mr. Nahum's book. Compared with -more formal poems they are like wild flowers--pimpernel, eyebright, -thyme, woodruff, and others even tinier, even quieter, but having their -own private and complete little beauty if looked at closely. Who made -them, how old they are; nobody knows. But when Noah's Ark stranded on -the slopes of Mount Ararat, maybe a blossoming weed or two was nodding -at the open third-storey window out of which over the waters of the -flood the dove had followed the raven, and there, rejoicing in the -sunshine and the green, sat Japheth's wife dandling little Magog on her -lap, and crooning him some such lullaby. - - - 3. - -On the one side is printed the old Scots, and on the other the best -I can do to put it into the English of our own time. According to -the dictionary the thistle-cock that cries shame on the sleepers -still drowsing in their beds is the corn-bunting-- a cousin of the -yellow-hammer. He has a small harsh monotonous voice as if for the very -purpose. Whereas the nightingale might seem to cry, "Nay, nay: it is in -dreams you wander. Happy ones! Sleep on; sleep on." - - - 4. "I PASSED BY HIS GARDEN." - -Whatever fate befell the Sluggard, I should like to have taken a walk -in his garden, among those branching thistles, green thorns and briers. -Maybe he sailed off at last to the Isle of Nightmare, or to the land -where it is always afternoon, or was wrecked in Yawning Gap. He must, -at any rate, have had an even heavier head than Dr. Watts supposed if -he never so much as lifted it from his pillow to brood awhile on that -still, verdurous scene. And the birds! - -Indeed, to lie, between sleep and wake, when daybreak is brightening -of an April or a May morning, and so listen to the far-away singing -of a thrush or to the whistling of a robin or a wren is to seem to -be transported back into the garden of Eden. Dreamers, too, may call -themselves travellers. - -Mr. Nahum's picture to this rhyme was of a man in rags looking into a -small round mirror or looking-glass, but at what you couldn't see. - - - 6. "THE MERCHANT BOWS" (line 7) - ---(as do the happy to the New Moon, for luck), for his merchandise is -being wafted over the sea under the guidance of the Seaman's, or Ship, -or Lode, or Pole Star. It shines in the constellation of the Little -Bear, and "is the cheefe marke whereby mariners governe their course in -saylings by nyghte." To find the "marke," look towards the north some -cloudless night for the constellation of Seven Stars called the Plough -or the Dipper or Charles's Wain (or Waggon), which "enclyneth his -ravisshinge courses abouten the soverein heighte of the worlde" day and -night throughout the year. Its hinder stars (Dubhe and Merak) are named -"the pointers," because if you follow the line of them with the eye -into the empty skies, the next brightish star it will alight on is the -Seaman's Star. Close beside the second of the seven is a mere speck of -a star. And that is called by country people Jack-by-the-middle-horse. -On this same star looked Shakespeare--as did the 1st Carrier in his -_Henry IV_.: "Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, He be hanged. -Charles' waine is over the near Chimney, and yet our horse not packt"; -and as did his 2nd Gentleman in _Othello_: - - _Montano._ What from the Cape can you discerne at Sea? - - _1st Gentleman._ Nothing at all, it is a high-wrought Flood: - I cannot 'twixt the Heaven, and the Maine - Descry a Saile.... - - _2nd Gentleman._ ... Do but stand upon the Foaming Shore, - The chidden Billow seemes to pelt the Clowds, - The wind-shaked-Surge, with high and monstrous - Maine, - Seemes to cast water on the burning Beare, - And quench the Guards of the ever-fixèd Pole. - I never did like mollestation view - On the enchafèd Flood.... - -Faintly shimmering, too, in the northern heavens is that other numerous -starry cluster, known the world over as _Seven_--to us as the Seven -Sisters or the Pleiades. A strange seven; for only six stars are -now clearly visible to the naked eye, one having vanished, it would -seem, within human memory. When? where?--none can tell. They play in -light as close together as dewdrops in a cobweb hung from thorn to -thorn. Nearby, on winter's cold breast burns the most marvellous of -the constellations--the huntsman Orion, with his Rigel and Bellatrix -and Betelgeuse; his dog Sirius at his heels. "Seek him that maketh -the Seven Stars and Orion, and turneth the shadow of death into the -morning, and maketh the day dark with night...." - - - 9. "LIKE A CHILD, HALF IN TENDERNESS AND MIRTH." - -At a first reading, perhaps, this line will not appear to flow so -smoothly as the rest. But linger an instant on the word _child_, and -you will have revealed to yourself one of Shelley's, and indeed one -of every poet's loveliest devices with words--to let the music of his -verse accord with its meaning, and at the same time to please and charm -the ear with a slight variation from the regular beat and accent of the -metre. So, too, in the middle lines of the next stanza. This variation, -which is called rhythm, is the very proof of its writer's sincerity. -For if the sound of his verse (or of his voice) rings false, he cannot -have completely realised what he was writing or saying. When a man says -what he means, he says it as _if he meant it_. The _tune_ of what he -says sounds right. When a man does _not_ mean what he says, he finds it -all but impossible to say it as if he did. The _tune_ goes wrong. - -Just so with reading. So from a gay and tiny _Compendious English -Grammar_ of 1780 I have borrowed these four brief wholesome rules for -reading: - -(1) ... Observe well the pauses, accents and emphases; and never stop -but where the sense will admit of it. - -(2) Humour your voice a little, according to the subject.... - -(3) Do not read too fast, lest [in lip or mind] you get a habit -of stammering; adding or omitting words; and be sure that your -understanding keep pace with your tongue. - -(4) In reading Verse, pronounce every word just as if it were prose, -observing the stops with great exactness, and giving each word its -proper accent; and if it be not harmonious, the Poet, and not the -Reader, is to blame." - -Better, perhaps, be sure of your ear before you blame the poet. But in -general, if these rules are followed, there can be little danger of -reading like a parrot, or like a small boy in his first breeches at a -Dame's school. To _think_ while one reads; that is the main thing: so -as not to be, as Sidney says,--just - - ... like a child that some fair book doth find, - With gilded leaves or coloured vellum plays, - Or, at the most, on some fair pictures stays, - But never heeds the fruit of writer's mind. - - - 13. "COMES DANCING FROM THE EAST." - -I found a story about this dancing in Mrs. Wright's _Rustic Speech and -Folklore_. It is the story of a woman who lived in a district called -Hockley, in the parish of Broseley. She said that she had heard of such -"dancing" but did not believe it to be true, "till on Easter morning -last, I got up early, and then I saw the sun dance, and dance, and -dance, three times, and I called to my husband and said, '_Rowland, -Rowland, get up and see the sun dance!_' I used," she said, "not to -believe it, but now I can never doubt more." The neighbours agreed with -her that the sun did dance on Easter morning, and that some of them -had seen it. "Seeing," goes the old proverb, "is believing"--which is -true no less of the "inward eye." I once tried to comfort a very little -boy who was unhappy because there was a Bear under his bed. Candle in -hand, I talked and talked, and proved that there wasn't a real bear for -miles and miles around, not at any rate until we reached the Zoo, and -there--black, brown, sloth, spectacled, grizzly and polar alike--all -of them, poor creatures, were cabined, cribbed and shut up in barred -cages. He listened, tears still shining in his eyes, his small face -sharp and clear. "Why certainly, certainly _not_," I ended, "there -can't be a real bear for miles around!" He smiled as if pitying me. "Ah -yes, Daddie," he answered with a die-away sob, "but, you see, you's -talking of _real_ bears, and mine _wasn't_ real." - - - 14. "US IDLE WENCHES." - - It was a jolly bed in sooth, - Of oak as strong as Babel. - And there slept Kit and Sall and Ruth - As sound as maids are able. - - Ay--three in one--and there they dreamed, - Their bright young eyes hid under; - Nor hearkened when the tempest streamed - Nor recked the rumbling thunder. - - For marvellous regions strayed they in, - Each moon-far from the other-- - Ruth in her childhood, Kit in heaven, - And Sall with ghost for lover. - - But soon as ever sun shone sweet, - And birds sang, Praise for rain, O-- - Leapt out of bed three pair of feet - And danced on earth again, O! - - - 17. OLD MAY SONG. - -This, like No. 2, and the next song must be as old as the dew-ponds -on the Downs. They were wont to be sung, I have read, by five or six -men, with a fiddle, or flute, or clarionet accompaniment. When I was -a boy I can remember one First of May seeing a Jack-in-the-Green in -the street--a man in a kind of wicker cage hung about with flowers -and leaves--with Maid Marian. Friar Tuck and the rest, dancing and -singing beside him. A great friend of mine, when she was a little girl -of eight, was so frightened at sight of this leafy prancing creature -on her way to school that she turned about and ran for a mile without -stopping. - - - 19. THE DAISY. - -There is far too little of Geoffrey Chaucer's--that most lovable, -shrewd, compassionate, and natural of poets--in this book. There was -much more of him, I noticed, in Mr. Nahum's Tome II. At first sight -his words look a little strange; but not for long; and if every dotted -letter is made a syllable of, his rhythm will flow like water over -bright green waterweed. - -It is a curious, though little thing, that while, among the one hundred -and seventy varieties of flowers Shakespeare mentions, he has no less -than fifty-seven several references to the rose, twenty-one to the -green grass, eighteen to violets, and even to the serviceable but rank -nettle a round dozen, he has but a scant five to Chaucer's beloved -daisy. Flowers, it is true, as says Canon Ellacombe (who collected -all such references into his delight-full book, _Plant-lore and -Garden-craft of Shakespeare_), never sweeten the Plays for their own -sake alone, and there are no foxgloves, snowdrops or forget-me-nots -in them at all. Still, had he loved daisies as children do, he could -hardly have resisted them even for "their own sake alone." Is not -bairnwort another name for the daisy? - -"A yellow cup, it hath," says Pliny, "and the same is crowned, as it -were with a garland, consisting of five and fifty little leaves, set -round about it in manner of fine pales. These be flowers of the meadow, -and most of such are of no use at all." No use at all, none--except -only to make skylark of every heart whose owner has eyes in his head -for a daisy's simple looks, its marvellous making, and the sheer -happiness of their multitudes wide open in the sun or round-headed and -adrowse in the evening twilight. - -Chaucer's picture portrait is well known. So is that in his own words -in the _Canterbury Tales_. But here is another, less familiar, by -Robert Greene--of "Sir Jeffery Chaucer," as he calls him. Water chamlet -is a rich coloured silken plush, and a whittell is a knife: - - His stature was not very tall, - Leane he was, his legs were small, - Hosed within a stock of red - A buttoned bonnet on his head, - From under which did hang, I weene, - Silver haires both bright and sheene, - His beard was white, trimmèd round, - His count'nance blithe and merry found, - A Sleevelesse Iacket large and wide, - With many pleights and skirts Side, - Of water Chamlet did he weare, - A whittell by his belt he beare, - His shooes were cornèd broad before, - His Inkhorne at his side he wore, - And in his hand he bore a booke, - Thus did this auntient Poet looke. - - - 20. "BRAVE PRICK-SONG" - ---which means, I gather, that while the nightingale was--even into the -dusk of dawn--yet singing her "_air_" or "_descant_," the lark joined -in as if reading her notes from the daybreak stars _pricking_ the sky. - - - 21. "CUCKOO, JUG, JUG, PU WE, TO WITTA WOO!" - -Four birds, I suppose, have part in this: cuckoo, nightingale (_yoog, -yoog_), green-finch (?) and owl. - - I rose anon, and thought I wouldÄ— gone - Into the woods, to hear the birdis sing, - When that the misty vapour was agone, - And cleare and fairÄ— was the morrowing; - The dew, also, like silver in shining, - Upon the leaves, as any baumÄ— sweet. - - .... - - And in I went to hear the birdis song, - Which on the branches, both in plain and vale, - So loudly y-sang, that all the wood y-rang, - Like as it should shiver in pieces smale; - And as me thoughten that the nightingale - With so great might her voice began out-wrest, - Right as her heart for love would all to-brest. - - JOHN LYDGATE - - 22. "THE JEALOUS TROUT." - - Thou that desir'st to fish with line and hook, - Be it in pool, in river, or in brook, - To bless thy bait and make the fish to bite, - Lo, here's a means! if thou canst hit it right: - Take Gum of Life, fine beat, and laid in soak - In oil well drawn from that which kills the oak, - Fish where thou wilt, thou shalt have sport thy fill; - When twenty fail, thou shalt be sure to kill. - - It's perfect and good, - If well understood; - Else not to be told - For silver or gold. - -So advises Master Will. Lauson in the _Secrets of Angling_, which was -published in 1653; the ingredients (or _ingrediments_ as I used to -say when I was a child) of his "gum of life" being _Cocculus Juliæ_, -_Assafoetida_, Honey, and Wheat-flour. The "that which kills the oak," -I suppose, is ivy. But it looks as if there may have been a wink in his -eye--to welcome the green in his reader's. - -Here, on the same theme, are a few lines from a poem by Mr. Robert -Bridges: - - ... Sometimes an angler comes, and drops his hook - Within its hidden depths, and 'gainst a tree - Leaning his rod, reads in some pleasant book, - Forgetting soon his pride of fishery, - And dreams, or falls asleep, - While curious fishes peep - About his nibbled bait, or scornfully - Dart off and rise and leap.... - -And these are by J. Wolcot: - - Why flyest thou away with fear? - Trust me there's naught of danger near, - I have no wicked hooke - All covered with a snaring bait, - Alas, to tempt thee to thy fate, - And dragge thee from the brooke.... - - Enjoy thy stream, O harmless fish; - And when an angler for his dish, - Through gluttony's vile sin, - Attempts, a wretch, to pull thee out, - God give thee strength, O gentle trout, - To pull the raskall in! - -A less common and more skilful sport than fly, hook and bait, or even -"tickling" can afford is to share their watery chaos with the fish, -and catch them with the hands. This needs rare skill and cunning -and--a disguise! "For dyeing of your hairs," says Isaac Walton in _The -Compleat Angler_, "do it thus: Take a pint of strong ale, half a pound -of soot, and a little quantity of the juice of walnut-tree leaves, and -an equal quantity of alum; put these together, into a pot, pan, or -pipkin, and boil them half an hour; and having so done, let it cool; -and being cold, put your hair into it, and there let it lie; it will -turn your hair to be a kind of water or glass-colour or greenish; and -the longer you let it lie, the deeper coloured it will be. You might -be taught to make many other colours, but it is to little purpose; for -doubtless the water-colour or glass-coloured hair is the most choice -and the most useful for an angler, but let it not be too green." - - - "AND BIRDS HAD DRAWN THEIR VALENTINES." (line 4) - -First thing in the early morning, if you go out on St. Valentine's Day, -which is the 14th day of February, you will meet, if you meet anybody, -your soon-to-be-loved one. So too the birds. In my young days, folks -sent the daintiest pictures to their sweethearts on this day. Mr. Nahum -had a drawer half full of them--with a few locks of hair and some -withered flowers. And one or two of these Valentines were of beaten -gold, with images of lovely things upon them, as if from another planet. - -"This morning came up to my wife's bedside, I being up dressing myself, -little Will Mercer to be her Valentine; and brought her name writ upon -blue paper in gold letters, done by himself, very pretty...." Mr. -Samuel Pepys's _Diary_. - - To-morrow is S. Valentine's day, - All in the morning betime, - And I a Maid at your Window - To be your Valentine! - - _Ophelia's Song._ - - "JOAN STROKES A SILLABUB OR TWAIN." - -If you would make a Lemon Sillabub (as advised by Mrs. Charlotte Mason, -"a Professed Housekeeper, who from about 1740 had upwards of Thirty -Years experience in Families of the First Fashion") take "a Pint of -cream, a pint of white wine, the rind of two lemons grated, and the -juice. Sugar to the taste. Let it stand some time; mill or whip it. -Lay the froth on a sieve; put the remainder into glasses. Lay on the -froth." Mr. Nahum must have had a fancy for Cookery Books; there -were dozens of them in his tower room. Indeed, the next best thing -to eating a good dish is to read how it is made; and somehow the old -"cookbook" writers learned to write a most excellent and appetising -English. Here is another recipe from _Delightes for Ladies_, of -1608--a dainty that would eat uncommonly well with a sillabub:--"_To -make a marchpane._--Take two poundes of almonds being blanched, and -dryed in a sieve over the fire, beate them in a stone mortar, and -when they bee small mixe them with two pounde of sugar beeing finely -beaten, adding two or three spoonefuls of rosewater, and that will -keep your almonds from oiling: when your paste is beaten fine, drive -it thin with a rowling pin, and so lay it on a bottom of wafers, then -raise up a little edge on the side, and so bake it, then yce it with -rosewater and sugar, then put it in the oven again, and when you see -your yce is risen up and drie, then take it out of the oven and garnish -it with pretie conceipts, as birdes and beasts being cast out of -standing moldes. Sticke long comfits upright in it, cast biskets and -carrowaies in it, and so serve it; guild it before you serve it: you -may also print of this _marchpane_ paste in your molds for banqueting -dishes. And of this paste our comfit makers at this day make their -letters, knots, armes, escutcheons, beasts, birds, and other fancies." -Also pygmy castles and suchlike, for dessert, which the guests would -demolish with sugar-plums. - - "Good thou, save mee a piece of Marchpane, and as thou lovest - me, let the Porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell...." - - _Romeo and Juliet_ - - - 23. "THE SUN ARISING." - -"What other fire could be a better image of the fire which is there, -than the fire which is here? Or what other earth than this, of the -earth which is there?" So said Plotinus, and "I know," said Blake, -"that this world is a world of imagination and vision. I see everything -I paint in this world, but everybody does not see alike. To the eye of -a miser a guinea is far more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn -with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled -with grapes. The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes -of others only a green thing which stands in the way.... Some scarce -see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is -Imagination itself. As a man is, so he sees. As the eye is formed, such -are its powers. You certainly mistake, when you say that the visions -of fancy are not to be found in this world. To me this world is all -one continued vision." ... Indeed, when Blake was a child, he saw on -Peckham Rye a tree, full, not of birds, but of angels; and his poems -show how marvellously clear were the eyes with which he looked at the -things of Nature. - -In the year 1872, an old lady might have been seen driving across the -Rye in her silvery carriage; and she came to where, under a flowering -tree, sat a small boy--the locks of hair upon his head like sheaves -of cowslips, his eyes like speedwells, and he in very bright clothes. -And he was a-laughing up into the tree. She stopped her carriage and -said to him almost as if she were more angry than happy, "What are -you laughing at, child?" And he said, "At the sparrows, ma'am." "Mere -sparrows!" says she, "but why?" "Because they were saying," says he, -"here comes across the Rye a blind old horse, a blind old coachman, -and a blind old woman." "But I am not blind," says she. "Nor are they -not '_mere_ sparrows'," said the child. And at that the old lady was -looking out of her carriage at no child, but at a small bush, in bud, -of gorse. - - - 24. "AND THANK HIM THEN" - ---as does Robert Herrick's child, in his "Grace": - - Here a little child I stand, - Heaving up my either hand; - Cold as Paddocks though they be, - Here I lift them up to Thee, - For a Benizon to fall - On our meat, and on us all. AMEN. - -A paddock is a frog or a toad, it seems. To either small cold hand -there are four cold fingers and a thumb; and in old times, says -Halliwell, our ancestors had distinct names for each of the five -toes and for each of the five fingers. The fingers were called -thumb, toucher, longman, leche-man, little-man: leche-man being the -ring-finger, because in that "there is a sinew very tender and small -that reaches to the heart." In Essex they used to call them (and still -may)--Tom Thumbkin, Bess Bumpkin, Long Linkin, Bill Wilkin, and Little -Dick. In Scotland: Thumbkin, Lickpot, Langman, Berrybarn and Pirlie -Winkie. - -And here are some more from Dr. Courtenay Dunn's _Natural History of -the Child_--a book which is graced with as handsome a frontispiece as -ever I've seen: - - Thumb - Tommy Tomkins or Bill Milker. - Forefinger - Billy Wilkins " Tom Thumper. - Third finger - Long Larum " Long lazy. - Fourth finger Betsy Bedlam " Cherry Bumper. - Little finger - Little Bob " Tippity, Tippity-Town-end. - - Toes: - Big toe - Tom Barker or Toe Tipe. - Toe 2 - - Long Rachel " Penny Wipe. - Toe 3 - - Minnie Wilkin " Tommy Tistle. - Toe 4 - - Milly Larkin " Billy Whistle. - Little toe - Little Dick " Tripping-go. - -So (if you wish) you can secretly name not only your fingers, toes, -rooms, chairs and tables, etc., but also the stars in their courses, -the trees in your orchard, and have your own privy countersign for the -flowers you like best. "Give a dog a bad name, and hang him," says the -old proverb. Give anything a _good_ name, and it is yours for ever. -There is the tale of the unhappy gardener in the Isle of Rumm who -without ill intention called a snapdragon an antirrhinum. And there -arose out of the hillside a Monster named Zobj--but I haven't the space -for the rest. The gardener of course meant well; but when he heard the -Voice counting his last moments, not in common English, but in what -Wensleydale Knitters still remember of the Norse--Yahn, Jyahn, Tether, -Mether, Mumph, Hither, Lither, Auver, Dauver, Die--well, he died before -he was due, so to speak. - -While we are on this subject, here is a Face Rhyme: - - Bo Peeper - Nose Dreeper - Chin Chopper - White Lopper - Red Rag - And Little Gap. - -This is another: - - Here sits the Lord Mayor: - Here sit his men; - Here sits the cockadoodle; - Here sits the hen; - Here sits the little chickens; - Here they run in; - Chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper chin. - -The next three are foot rhymes, very soothing at times to fractious -babies. The first is common in London, etc.: - - This little pig went to market; - This little pig stayed at home; - This little pig had roast beef; - This little pig had the bone; - This little pig cried _Wee-wee-wee-wee-wee_! - _All_ the way home. - -The second comes from the Isle of Wight: - - This gurt pig zays, I wants meat; - T'other one zays, Where'll ye hay et? - This one zays, In gramfer's barn; - T'other one zays, Week! Week! I can't get over the dreshel. - -And this is from Scotland: - - This ain biggit the baurn, - This ain stealt the corn, - This ain stood and saw, - This ain ran awa', - An' wee Pirlie Winkie paid for a'. - -And last; here is a dance-babbie-on-knee (or This-is-the-way) rhyme; -also from Scotland: - - The doggies gaed to the mill, - This way and that way; - They took a lick out o' _this_ wife's poke - And they took a lick out o' _that_ wife's poke, - And a loup in the lead, and a dip in the dam, - And gaed walloping, walloping, walloping, HAME. - -And no doubt came to the conclusion expressed in the sixth stanza of -Robert Herrick's _Ternary of Littles, upon a Pipkin of Jelly sent to a -Lady_: - - A little Saint best fits a little Shrine, - A little Prop best fits a little Vine, - As my small Cruse best fits my little Wine. - - A little Seed best fits a little Soyle, - A little Trade best fits a little Toyle, - As my small Jarre best fits my little Oyle. - - A little Bin best fits a little Bread, - A little Garland fits a little Head, - As my small stuffe best fits my little Shed. - - A little Hearth best fits a little Fire, - A little Chappell fits a little Quire, - As my small Bell best fits my little Spire. - - A little streame best fits a little Boat, - A little lead best fits a little Float, - As my small Pipe best fits my little note. - - A little meat best fits a little bellie, - As sweetly, Lady, give me leave to tell ye, - This little Pipkin fits this little Jellie. - -And the fact that this or any other poem is printed at this end of -the book instead of at the other does not mean that I am any the less -thankful to have it or that Mr. Nahum left it out of his. - - - 25. "I SING OF A MAIDEN." - -Only the spelling of this lovely and ancient little carol has been -slightly changed. - - - 29. "SLEEP STAYS NOT, THOUGH A MONARCH BIDS." - - (line 11). - - Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, - Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, - And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, - Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, - Under the canopies of costly state, - And lulled with sound of sweetest melody? - O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile - In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch - A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell? - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast - Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains - In cradle of the rude imperious surge, - And in the visitation of the winds, - Who take the ruffian billows by the top, - Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them - With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, - That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? - Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose - To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; - And in the calmest and most stillest night, - With all appliances and means to boot, - Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down! - Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. - - _Henry IV. Part ii._ - - - 30. - -For many years I read this poem as if the accents in the first line -of each stanza fell on the first and third word--the two "I's." It -was stupid of me, for clearly the accent should fall (lightly) on the -second syllable of the "remembers." Apart from the accents or stresses -in a line of verse, there is the rise and fall of the voice, a kind of -tune in the _saying_ of it. If the right tune is not caught, then the -difference is as much as if one sniffed a wallflower and it smelt like -African mimosa. And to me, as to hundreds of thousands of Englishmen, -this poem is as familiar, long-endeared and refreshing as wallflower, -Sweet William, or Old Man. This is the second or third time I have made -remarks about the rhythm, lilt or tune of a poem; and it won't be the -last. May I be forgiven, for as Chaucer wrote to his small son Louis -when he was sharing with him his love of astronomy: "Soothly me seemeth -betre to writen unto a child twice a good sentence, then he forget it -ones." As for his elders, even thrice may be short commons. - - "THOSE FLOWERS MADE OF LIGHT." (line 12) - -Hold up a flower between eye and sun, or even candle-flame, and it -seems little but its own waxen hue and colour. Moonlight is too pale; -the petals remain opaque. In the moon's light, indeed, blueness is -scarcely distinguishable from shadowiness; red darkens but yellow -pales, and the fairest flowers of all wake in her beams--jasmine, -convolvulus, evening-primrose--as if they not only shared her radiance -but returned a glowwormlike fuminess of their own. - -Once, long before I came to Thrae, having plucked for my mother a few -convolvulus flowers, I remember when I was just about to give them into -her hand I discovered that the beautiful cups of delight had enwreathed -themselves together, and had returned as it were to the bud, never to -reopen. I was but a child, and this odd little disappointment was so -extreme that I burst out crying. - - - 32. - -See just above, No. 30: and for proof of the curious obedience of words -to any bidden rhythm it is interesting to compare this poem with its -next neighbours. Mr. Frost's colt is called "a little Morgan," because -he was of a famous breed of horses of that name which are the pride of -the State of Vermont. - - - 35. - -Only a single copy of the old play, _Mundus et Infans_, from which -this fragment is taken, is known to be in existence. It was printed by -Wynkyn de Worde in 1522; and was written roundabout 1500. - -The lines need a slow reading to get the run and lilt of them: and -even at that they jog and creak like an old farm-cart. But the boy, -Dalyaunce, if one takes a little pains, will come gradually out of them -as clear to the eye as if you had met him in the street to-day, on his -way to "schole" for yet another "docking." - -Clothes, houses, customs, food a little, thoughts a little, knowledge, -too--all change as the years and centuries go by, but Dalyaunce under -a thousand names lives on. It never occurred to me when I was young -to think that the children in Rome talked Latin at their games, and -that Solomon and Caesar, Prester John and the Grand Khan knew in their -young days what it means to be homesick and none too easy to sit down. -Yet there are knucklebones and dolls in London that the infant subjects -of the Pharaohs played with, and at Stratford Grammar School, for all -to see, is Shakespeare's school desk. As for Dalyaunce, "dockings" are -not nowadays so harsh as once they were. - -In proof of this, there is a passage from a book, telling of his own -life as a small boy, written by Guibert de Nogent. He is speaking of -his childhood, about the year when William the Conqueror landed at -Hastings: - -'So, after a few of the evening hours had been passed in that study, -during which I had been beaten even beyond my deserts, I came and sat -at my mother's knees. She, according to her wont, asked whether I had -been beaten that day; and I, unwilling to betray my master, denied it; -whereupon, whether I would or no, she threw back my inner garment (such -as men call shirt), and found my little ribs black with the strokes -of the osier, and rising everywhere into weals. Then, grieving in her -inmost bowels at this punishment so excessive for my tender years, -troubled and boiling with anger, and with brimming eyes, she cried, -"Never now shalt thou become a clerk, nor shalt thou be thus tortured -again to learn thy letters!" Whereupon, gazing upon her with all the -seriousness that I could call to my face, I replied, "Nay, even though -I should die under the rod, I will not desist from learning my letters -and becoming a clerk!"' - -Still, there were more merciful schoolmasters than Guibert de Nogent's, -even in days harsh as his; as this further extract from Mr. G. G. -Coulton's enticing _Medieval Garner_ shows: - -'One day, when a certain Abbot, much reputed for his piety, spake with -Anselm concerning divers points of Monastic Religion, and conversed -among other things of the boys that were brought up in the cloister, -he added: "What, pray, can we do with them? They are perverse and -incorrigible; day and night we cease not to chastise them, yet they -grow daily worse and worse." - -Whereat Anselm marvelled, and said, "Ye cease not to beat them? And -when they are grown to manhood, of what sort are they then?" "They are -dull and brutish," said the other. - -Then said Anselm, "With what good profit do ye expend your substance in -nurturing human beings till they become brute beasts?... But I prithee -tell me, for God's sake, wherefore ye are so set against them? Are they -not human, sharing in the same nature as yourselves? Would ye wish -to be so handled as ye handle them? Ye will say, 'Yes, if we were as -they are.' So be it, then; yet is there no way but that of stripes and -scourges for shaping them to good? Did ye ever see a goldsmith shape -his gold or silver plate into a fair image by blows alone? I trow not. -What then? That he may give the plate its proper shape, he will first -press it gently and tap it with his tools; then again he will more -softly raise it with discreet pressure from below, and caress it into -shape. So ye also, if ye would see your boys adorned with fair manners, -ye should not only beat them down with stripes, but also raise their -spirits and support them with fatherly kindness and pity'...." - -There was an old woodcut, hanging on Mr. Nahum's wall in his tower -room, showing a boy in the middle ages being whipped in a kind of -machine (something like a roasting-jack), and a schoolmaster standing -by, nicely smiling, in a gown. When Coleridge was a bluecoat boy at -Christ's Hospital with Charles Lamb, he seems to have had a headmaster -of this kind: "'Boy!' I remember Bowyer saying to me once when I was -crying the first day after my return after the holidays,--'Boy! the -school is your father! Boy! the school is your mother! Boy! the school -is your brother! the school is your sister! the school is your first -cousin, and your second cousin, and all the rest of your relations! -Let's have no more crying.' ... - -"Mrs. Bowyer was no comforter, either. Val. Le Grice and I were -once going to be flogged for some domestic misdeed, and Bowyer was -thundering away at us, by way of prologue, when Mrs. B. looked in and -said, 'Flog them soundly, sir, I beg!' This saved us. Bowyer was so -nettled at the interruption that he growled out, 'Away, woman, away!' -and we were let off." - -Coleridge tells of yet another schoolmaster, whose name, like Bowyer -and birch, also began with a B.: "Busby was the father of the English -public school system. He was headmaster of Westminster through the -reign of Charles I., the Civil War, the Protectorate, the reign of -Charles II., and the Revolution of 1688. Under him Westminster became -the first school in the kingdom. When Charles II. visited the school, -Busby stalked before the King with his hat upon his head, whilst his -most sacred majesty meekly followed him. In private Busby explained -that his conduct was due to the fact that he could not allow, for -discipline's sake, the boys to imagine there could be a greater man -than himself alive." Quite rightly, of course. - -There is, too, the story of the little Lion that went to school to the -Bear. Being, though of royal blood, a good deal of a dunce, Master Lion -bore many sound cuffings from Dr. Bruin on the road to learning, and -found it hot and dusty. After such administrations, he would sometimes -sit in the sun under a window, learning his task and brooding on a day -when he would return to the school and revenge himself upon the Doctor -for having treated him so sore. But Master Lion was all this time -growing up, and so many were the cares of State when he had left his -books and become a Prince and Heir Apparent, that for a time he had no -thought for his old school. Being, however, in the Royal Gardens one -sunny morning, and seeing bees busy about their hive, he remembered -an old saying on the sweetness of knowledge and wisdom, and this once -more reminded him of his old Master. Bidding his servants sling upon -a rod half a dozen of the hives, he set out to visit Dr. Bruin. The -hives were taken into his study, and the bees, being unused to flitting -within walls out of the sunshine, angrily sang and droned about the -head of the old schoolmaster as he sat at his desk. Their stings were -of little account against his thick hide, but their molestation was a -fret, and he presently cried aloud, "Would that the Prince had kept -his gifts to himself!" The Prince, who was standing outside the door, -listening and smiling to himself, thereupon cried out: "Ah! Dr. Bruin, -when I was under your charge, you often heavily smit and cuffed me with -those long-clawed paws of yours. Now I am older, and have learned how -sweet and worthy is the knowledge they instilled. This too will be your -experience. My bees may fret and buzz and sting a little now, but you -will think of me more kindly when you shall be tasting their rich honey -in the Winter that is soon upon us." And Dr. Bruin, peering out at the -Prince from amid the cloud of the bees, when he heard him thus call Tit -for Tat, he couldn't help but laugh. - -And last--to return to Coleridge once more, who, in the bad old days, -so far as food goes, never "had a belly full" at Christ's Hospital, and -whose appetite was only "damped, never satisfied,"--here is one of his -earliest letters (to his elder brother George), which _may_ have an -(indirect) reference to Dr. Bowyer's birch: - - Dear Brother,--You will excuse me for reminding you that, - as our holidays commence next week, and I shall go out a - good deal, a good pair of breeches will be no inconsiderable - accession to my appearance. For though my present pair are - excellent for the purpose of drawing mathematical figures on - them, and though a walking thought, sonnet or epigram would - appear in them in very _splendid_ type, yet they are not - altogether so well adapted for a female eye--not to mention - that I should have the charge of vanity brought against me - for wearing a looking-glass. I hope you have got rid of your - cold--and I am - - Your affectionate brother, - - SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - - - 40. - -This too should go to the lilt of its music, as then the accents would -come clearly. I think, in the reading of it, there should be four -stressed syllables to the first, second and fifth lines in each stanza: -"Whâr hae ye bêen a' day, mÅ· boy Tâmmy"; and "The wêe thing gie's -her hând, and says, There, gâng and ask my Mâmmy." A line of verse like -this resembles a piece of elastic; if you leave it very slack you will -get no music out of it at all; stretch it a little too far, it snaps. - - - 41. "ROSY APPLE, LEMON, OR PEAR." - -This little jingle and Nos. 15, 16, 68, 75, etc., are Singing Game -Rhymes, of which scores have been collected from the mouths of -children near and far from all over the Kingdom, and are now to be -found in print in Lady Gomme's two stout engrossing volumes entitled -_Traditional Games_. In these more than seven hundred games are -described, including Rakes and Roans, Rockety Row, Sally Go Round -the Moon, Shuttlefeather, Spannims, Tods and Lambs, Whigmeleerie, -Allicomgreenaie, Bob-Cherry, Oranges and Lemons, Cherry Pit, -Thumble-bones, Lady on Yandor Hill, Hechefragy, and Snail Creep. - -A good many of these games have singing rhymes to them. And the -words of them vary in different places. For the children in each -of twenty or more villages and towns may have their own particular -version of the same rhyme. As for the original from which all such -versions must once have come--_that_ may be centuries old. Like the -Nursery Rhymes, they were most of them in the world ages before our -great-great-great-grand-dams were babies in their cradles. The noble -game of Hop Scotch, for instance, Lady Gomme tells us, was in favour -before the year I. - -The most mysterious rhymes of all are said to refer to ancient tribal -customs, rites and ceremonies--betrothals, harvest-homes, sowings, -reapings, well-blessings, dirges, divinations, battles, hunting, and -exorcisings--before even London was else than a few hovels by its -river's side. Rhymes such as these having been passed on from age to -age and from one piping throat to another, have grown worn and battered -of course, and become queerly changed in their words. - -These from Mr. Nahum's book have their own differences too. He seems to -have liked best those that make a picture, or sound uncommonly sweet -and so carry the fancy away. Any little fytte or jingle or jargon of -words that manages _that_ is like a charm or a talisman, and to make -new ones is as hard as to spin silk out of straw, or to turn beech -leaves into fairy money. When one thinks, too, of the myriad young -voices that generation after generation have carolled these rhymes -into the evening air, and now are still--well, it's a thought no less -sorrowful for being strange, and no less strange for the fact that our -own voices too will some day be as silent. - - Summer's pleasures they are gone like to visions every one, - And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on. - I tried to call them back, but unbidden they are gone - Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away. - Dear heart, and can it be that such raptures meet decay? - I thought them all eternal when by Langley Bush I lay, - I thought them joys eternal when I used to shout and play - On its bank at "clink and bandy," "chock" and "taw" and - "ducking stone," - Where silence sitteth now on the wild heath as her own - Like a ruin of the past all alone.... - - JOHN CLARE - - - 42. "IN PRAISE." - -The loveliest and gayest song of praise and sweetness to a "young -thing" I have ever seen. - -"Ielofler"--gelofer, gelofre, gillofre, gelevor, gillyvor, gillofer, -jerefloure, gerraflour--all these are ways of spelling Gillyflower, -gelofre coming nearest to its original French: _giroflée_--meaning -spiced like the clove. There were of old, I find, three kinds of -gillyflowers: the clove, the stock and the wall. It was the first -of these kinds that was meant in the earlier writers by the small -clove carnation (or Coronation, because it was made into chaplets or -garlands). Its Greek name was dianthus (the flower divine); and its -twin-sister is the Pink, so called because its edges are, as it were, -picked out, jagged, notched, scalloped. Country names for it are Sweet -John, Pagiants, Blunket and Sops-in-Wine, for it spices what it floats -in, and used to be candied for a sweetmeat. Blossoming in July, the -Gillyflower suggests July-flower, and if Julia is one's sweetheart, -it may also be a Julie-flower. So one name may carry many echoes. -It has been truly described as a gimp and gallant flower, and, says -Parkinson, who wrote _Paradisus Terrestris_, it was the chiefest of -account in Tudor gardens. By 1700 indeed there were 360 kinds and four -classes of clove gillyflower--the Flake, the Bizarre, the Piquette or -picotee (_picotée_ or pricketed), and the Painted Lady, the last now -gone. Its ancestor, the dianthus, seems to have crossed the Channel -with the Normans, for it flourishes on the battlements of Falaise, -the Conqueror's birthplace, and crowns the walls of many a Norman -Castle--Dover, Ludlow, Rochester, Deal--to this day. - - - 43. "PYGSNYE" - -must be Piggie's eye, or, from an old word, Twinkle-eye, just as we -nowadays call a child or loved-one Goosikins or Pussikins, or Lambkin -Pie, or Bunch-of-Roses, or Chickabiddy, or Come-kiss-me-quick. _Minion_ -means anything small, minikin, delicate, dainty, darling. Look close, -for example, at the brown-green florets of a stalk of mignonette. - - - 44. "A WORM'S LIGHT." (line 10) - -Many years ago I had the curious pleasure of reading a little book--and -one in small print too (Alice Meynell's lovely _Flower of the -Mind_)--by _English_ glowworm light. The worm was lifting its green -beam in the grasses of a cliff by the sea, and shone the clearer the -while because it was during an eclipse of the moon. But see No. 93. - - - 50. "BUT NEVER CAM' HE." - - ... "O wha will shoe my bonny foot? - And wha will glove my hand? - And wha will lace my middle jimp, - Wi' a lang, lang linen band? - - "O who will kame my yellow hair, - With a haw bayberry kame? - And wha will be my babe's father, - Till Gregory come hame?" - - "Thy father, he will shoe thy foot, - Thy brother will glove thy hand, - Thy mother will bind thy middle jimp - Wi' a lang, lang linen band! - - "Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair, - Wi' a haw bayberry kame; - The Almighty will be thy babe's father, - Till Gregory come hame."... - -"Haw" is an old English word meaning (?) blue or braw, and bayberry -is the all-spice tree; so this sad one's yellow hair had for comb an -uncommonly charming thing. In another version the comb is of "new -silver," and in a third it is a red river kame, which, thinks Mr. -Child, may be a corruption of red _ivory_. But give _me_ (for such -hair) the bayberry kind, and let it be haw. - - - 51. "THE ORPHAN." - -"The first sense of sorrow I ever knew," wrote Richard Steele, "was -upon the death of my father, at which time I was not quite five -years of age; but was rather amazed at what all the house meant than -possessed with a real understanding why nobody was willing to play with -me. I remember I went into the room where his body lay, and my mother -sat weeping alone by it. I had my battledore in my hand, and fell -a-beating the coffin, and calling, papa; for, I know not how, I had -some slight idea that he was locked up there. My mother catched me in -her arms, and transported beyond all patience of the silent grief she -was before in, she almost smothered me in her embraces; and told me -in a flood of tears, 'Papa could not hear me, and would play with me -no more, for they were going to put him under ground, whence he could -never come to us again.'" - - - 53. - -The first and third stanzas of this poem were (and are) my particular -favourites, and especially the second line in each. Such poems are like -wayside pools, or little well-springs of water. It does not matter how -many wayfarers come thither to quench their thirst, there is abundance -for all. - - - "THE PERISHING PLEASURES OF MAN." (line 18) - -"But you mustn't imagine," said the old old Harper, "that I harp sad -memories on my harp-strings because, being an ancient I am envious of -my youth. Far from it. My only grief is that even if mine were the Harp -that hung in Tara, I could not express the joy it is to be of years an -hundred, and to remember that once I was nought--and all in the same -bar." - -And for yet another look behind, I cannot leave out this little -rhyme from William Allingham, who made one of the happiest of all -anthologies, "Nightingale Valley": - - Four ducks on a pond, - A grass-bank beyond, - A blue sky of spring, - White clouds on the wing; - What a little thing - To remember for years-- - To remember with tears. - -Or, last, this lovely scrap from the Scots--all distance and longing -for home: - - O Alva hills is bonny, - Dalycoutry hills is fair, - But to think on the braes of Menstrie - It maks my heart fu' sair. - - 60. - -Edward Thomas, who wrote this poem, knew by heart most of the villages, -streams, high roads, by-roads, hills, forests, woods and dales of the -southern counties of England, and came so to know them by the best of -all methods. He walked through them on his feet; and, when so inclined, -sat down by the wayside or leaned over a farm or field gate and gazed -and mused and day-dreamed. Here is another poem of his: - - If I should ever by chance grow rich - I'll buy Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch, - Roses, Pyrgo, and Lapwater, - And let them all to my elder daughter. - The rent I shall ask of her will be only - Each year's first violets, white and lonely, - The first primroses and orchises-- - She must find them before I do, that is. - But if she finds a blossom on furze-- - Without rent they shall all for ever be hers, - Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch, - Roses, Pyrgo and Lapwater,-- - I shall give them all to my elder daughter. - -_Not_, of course, to find a blossom on furze or gorse as soon as any -sun is in the year's sky, is the rare feat; and if in your wanderings -over the hills and far away you should chance on secret hidden-away -Pyrgo or Childerditch, sweet with its fragrance, then enquire for -the beautiful, happy young Lady of the Manor. As a matter of fact, -the scent of the furze-blossom is not exactly sweet, but nutlike and -aromatic. This is what Edward Thomas's friend, W. H. Hudson, the great -naturalist, wrote about it: "The gorse is most fragrant at noon, when -the sun shines brightest and hottest. At such an hour when I approach -a thicket of furze, the wind blowing from it, I am always tempted to -cast myself down on the grass to lie for an hour drinking in the odour. -The effect is to make me languid; to wish to lie till I sleep and live -again in dreams in another world, in a vast open-air cathedral where a -great festival of ceremony is perpetually in progress, and acolytes, in -scores and hundreds with beautiful bright faces, in flame yellow and -orange surplices, are ever and ever coming toward me, swinging their -censers until I am ready to swoon in that heavenly incense!" ... - - - "A STOAT." (stanza 5) - -It is the gentle custom of gamekeepers to slaughter at sight -(though not for food) the little preying beasts and birds of the -woodlands--owls, hawks, crows, jays, stoats, weasels, and such like. -They then nail up their carcases to a shed side, or to a barn door, or -on a field-gate, leaving them to rot in the wind for a warning to their -live mates--just as in the old days the precarious English kings spiked -the heads of traitors on the turrets of the Tower. Foxes you "hunt" to -death. - - - 61. "THE HOWES OF THE SILENT VANISHED RACES" - -are, I suppose, the mounds, barrows, tumuli or Fairie Hills, some of -them round, some of them long, some of them chambered, beneath which -the ancient races of Britain, centuries before the coming of the Saxons -and the Danes, buried their dead. So once slept the mummied Pharaohs -beneath their enormous Pyramids. Age hangs densely over these solitary -mounds, as over the Dolmens and Cromlechs--Stonehenge, the Whispering -Knights--and the single gigantic Menhirs--the Tingle Stone, the Whittle -Stone, the Bair-down-Man and the demoniac Hoar Stone. - -These were utterly ancient and unintelligible marvels even when the -monk Ranulph Higden wrote his _Polychronicon_ in 1352: The second -wonder, he says, is at Stonehenge beside Salisbury. There great stones -marvellously huge, be a-reared up on high, as it were gates, so that -there seemeth gates to be set up upon other gates. Nevertheless it is -not clearly known nor perceived how and to what end they be so a-reared -up, and "so wonderlych yhonged." And yet, they are but as falling -apple-blossom compared with the age of the world and the antiquity of -the Universe: - - _1st Gravedigger._ Come my spade; there is no ancient - Gentlemen but Gardiners, Ditchers - and Grave-makers; they hold up - _Adam_'s profession. - - _2nd Gravedigger._ Was he a Gentleman? - - _1st Gravedigger._ He was the first that ever bore Armes. - - _Hamlet._ - - - 62. THE TWA BROTHERS - ---and here is as romantic and tragic a tale of two friends: - - O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, - They war twa bonnie lasses; - They biggit a bower on yon Burn-brae, - And theekit it o'er wi' rashes. - - They theekit it o'er wi' rashes green, - They theekit it o'er wi' heather; - But the pest cam' frae the burrows-town, - And slew them baith thegither. - - They thought to lye in Methven kirkyard, - Amang their noble kin; - But they maun lye in Stronach haugh, - To biek forenent the sin. - - O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, - They war twa bonnie lasses; - They biggit a bower on yon Burn-brae, - And theekit it o'er wi' rashes. - -_Biggit_ and _theekit_ means builded and thatched; and the twelfth line -is "to bask beneath the sun." - - - 64. - -A tragic tale is hidden, rather than told, in this old Scottish ballad. -It resembles a half ruinous house in a desolate country, dense green -with briar and bramble, echoing with wild voices--its memories gone. -Mr. Nahum's picture for it was of a figure in a woman's bright clothes -and scarlet hood, but with what looked to me like the head of his own -skeleton deep within the hood. And on a stone nearby sat a little -winged boy. - - - 66. "HER HIGH-BORN KINSMAN." - -... And there was a wind in the night as they fared onward, a wind in -the mid-air, playing from out the clouds. And presently after, the -twain descended into the valley, the one traveller's foot stumbling as -he went, against the writhen roots that jutted from between the stones -of the path they followed. And it seemed that the voice of one unseen -cried, Lo! And the traveller looked up from out of the valley of his -journey, and, behold, a wan moon gleamed between the ravelled clouds; -and the face of his companion showed for that instant clear against -the sky in the shadow of its cloak. And it was the face of a nobleman; -renowned for his patience; courteous and cold; whose name is Death.... - - - 68. "LONDON BRIDGE." - -This is yet another singing-game rhyme. When London was nothing but -a cluster of beehive huts in the hill clearings of the great Forest -of Middlesex above the marshes and the Thames, there can have been no -bridge. There _may_ have been a bridge, it seems, in A.D. 44, -eighty-seven years after the death of Caesar; and for centuries there -was certainly a ferry, Audery the Shipwight being one of its ferrymen, -his oars the shape of shovels, and his boat like a young moon on her -back. - -The rhyme appears to refer to the wooden bridge built in 994 at -Southwark, which was destroyed in 1008 by King Olaf, the Saint of -Norway, to whose glory four London churches are dedicated. Olaf had -become the ally of Ethelred (the Unready), and to defeat the Danes -who had captured the city he first screened his fighting ships with -frameworks of osier for the protection of his men, who then rowed them -up to the Bridge against the tide. They wapped and bound huge ropes -or hawsers round its timber piers, swept down with the slack with the -tide, and so brought the Bridge to ruin. - -The first stone bridge, in building from 1196 to 1208, was partially -destroyed by fire four years afterwards. A picture of the entrancing -re-built Bridge of Elizabeth's time, with its chapel, its many-storied -gabled houses, its haberdashers', goldsmiths' and booksellers' shops, -its cut-waters or starlings and many narrow arches, its gate-house -with the spiked heads atop, its drawbridge and pillory, and that -strange timber mansion, with not a nail in its wood, called Nonesuch, -where perhaps lived the Lord Mayor--all this may be gloated over in -any old seventeenth-century map of London. (John Visscher's of 1616 -shows a windmill in the Strand!) So narrow were those high arches, and -so vehemently flowed the tides beneath them, that even at ebb it was -dangerous for a novice to shoot them in a boat. But between Windsor and -Gravesend it is said there were forty thousand watermen and wherrymen -in Shakespeare's day, yelling "Eastward Ho!", or "Westward Ho!" for -passengers. The Bridge was the glory of London; as the Thames it -spanned was its main thoroughfare. Fire was its chief enemy; the Great -Fire in 1616 and that in 1633, after which it long continued to be used -though dark, dismal and dangerous. The present monster of granite, over -which the people of London stream to and fro throughout the day, like -ants at the flighting, was built thirty yards west of the old one and -began to span the river in 1832. - - - 70. "THIS CITY." - - London, thou art of townes _A per se_[211] - Soveraign of cities, seemliest in sight, - Of high renoun, riches and royaltie; - Of lordis, barons, and many a goodly knyght; - Of most delectable lusty ladies bright; - Of famous prelatis, in habitis clericall; - Of merchauntis full of substaunce and of myght: - London, thou art the flow'r of Cities all. - - Strong be thy wallis that about thee standis; - Wise be the people that within thee dwellis; - Fresh is thy ryver with his lusty strandis; - Blith be thy chirches, wele sownyng be thy bellis; - Rich be thy merchauntis in substaunce that excellis; - Fair be their wives, right lovesom, white and small; - Clere be thy virgyns, lusty under kellis[212]! - London, thou art the flow'r of Cities all.... - - WILLIAM DUNBAR - - - 71. "HE OPENED HOUSE TO ALL." (line 22) - -The subject being good victuals, here is the "Bill of Fare at the -Christening of Mr. Constable's Child, Rector of Cockley Cley, in -Norfolk, January 2, 1682." - - "A whole hog's head souc'd with carrots in the mouth, and - pendants in the ears, with guilded oranges thick sett. - - 2 Ox^s cheekes stewed with 6 marrow bones. - - A leg of Veal larded with 6 pullets. - - A leg of Mutton with 6 rabbits. - - A chine of bief, chine of venison, chine of mutton, chine of - veal, chine of pork, supported by 4 men. - - A Venison Pasty. - - A great minced pye, with 12 small ones about it. - - A gelt fat turkey with 6 capons. - - A bustard with 6 pluver. - - A pheasant with 6 woodcock. - - A great dish of tarts made all of sweetmeats. - - A Westphalia hamm with 6 tongues. - - A Jowle of Sturgeon. - - A great charg^r of all sorts of sweetmeats with wine, and all - sorts of liquors answerable." - -And here is another from that inexhaustible Tom Tiddler's ground, -_Rustic Speech and Folklore_ for the "funeral meats" of a farmer who -died near Whitby in 1760: "Besides what was distributed to 1,000 poor -people who had 6d. each in money, there was consumed - - 110 dozen penny loaves, - 9 large hams, - 8 legs of veal, - 20 stone of beef, - 16 stone of mutton, - 15 stone of Cheshire cheese, and - 30 ankers of ale." - -For me the "great dish of tarts," the "guilded oranges" and "the -great charger of sweetmeats"! But after all, fine fat feasts such as -these are but a Town Mouse's crumb of Wedding Cake compared to Mac -Conglinnes' Vision in No. 73, which is from the Gaelic of 1100/1200 -A.D., as translated by Kuno Meyer. _Bragget_, line 33, appears -to have been a concoction or decoction of ale, honey, sugar and spice, -of which last ambrosial ingredients (according to the old rhyme) are -made little girls. - - - 72. "AND BRING US IN GOOD ALE" - -really _good_ ale, that is, before beer was made "so mortal small," 133 -years before tea-leaves came from China (to be boiled and the decoction -stored in a barrel); 140 before the first coffee-house in London; and -even, one might be tempted to add, before milk came from the cow, for -as late as 1512 the two young sons of the fifth earl of Northumberland, -Lord Percy aged eleven (who afterwards loved Anne Boleyn), and his -younger brother, Maister Thomas Percy, were allowed for "braikfaste" -even on "Fysch," or fast Days: "Half a Loif of houshold Brede, a -Manchet, a Dysch of Butter, a Pece of Saltfish, a Dysch of Sproits or -iii White Herrynge," and a _Potell of Bere_, _i.e._ two quarts or Eight -mugfuls. - -"Hores," or heres, means _hairs_--cow's or dairymaid's. Butter is less -hairy nowadays, though on the other hand we have margarine. - -I thought perhaps "Godes good" referred to a "podinge" for Saturdays--a -hodge-podge of the scraps and pieces left over through the week; but I -find it is really an old phrase for yeast. - - - 73. - -"I' sooth a Feast of Fats" (from the Irish of the twelfth century) -like that dream of the rats in the "_Pied Piper of Hamelin_" as they -scuttled to their doom in the cold Weser. For a feast of _sweets_ there -is Porphyrio's in the "Eve of St. Agnes: - - "And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep, - In blanchèd linen, smooth, and lavendered, - While he from forth the closet brought a heap - Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; - With jellies soother than the creamy curd, - And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon; - Manna and dates, in argosy transferred - From Fez; and spicèd dainties, every one, - From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon. - - These delicates he heaped with glowing hand - On golden dishes and in baskets bright - Of wreathèd silver: sumptuous they stand - In the retirèd quiet of the night, - Filling the chilly room with perfume light...." - -For a banquet of enchantment there is Lamia's, and of magical fruits, -poor Laura's in "_Goblin Market_"; Romeo too went feasting with the -Capulets--but only his eyes; so too Macbeth, but _his_ eyes betrayed -him. Bottom in his ass's ears asked only for a munch of your good dry -oats, a handfull of pease, and a bottle of hay, then fell asleep before -even Queen Titania could magick them up for him. As for the poor Babes, -blackberries and dewberries were _their_ last supper. These are but a -few of scores of banqueting delights in poetry--but to include them all -would need such a larder as Jack peeped into when he sat supping in the -Giant's kitchen. - - - 74. "PIGEON HOLES, STOOL-BALL, BARLEY-BREAK." - -This fragment is a patchwork of the half-forgotten. "Pigeon holes" -was a ball-game, played on the green, with wooden arches and little -chambers as in a dovecot--a kind of open-air bagatelle. "Stool-ball" -was popular with Nancies and Franceses on Shrove Tuesday. Barley-break -was in Scotland a kind of "I spy," played in a stackyard, and in -England a sort of "French and English," in three marked spaces or -compartments, the middle one of which was called hell. And here--while -we are on the subject of old and gallant pastimes--is a brief -exposition of our noble and National Game of Cricket in its _early_ -days. It comes from a book with the queer title, "A Nosegay for the -Trouble of Culling; or, Sports of Childhood": - -"Cricket is a game universally played in England, not by boys only, -for men of all ranks pique themselves on playing it with skill. -In Mary-le-bone parish there is a celebrated cricket ground much -frequented by noblemen and gentlemen. - -The wicket consists of two pieces of wood fixed upright and kept -together by another piece which is laid across the top and is called a -bail; if either of these pieces of wood be thrown down by the ball the -person so hitting them becomes the winner. - -The ball used in this game is stuffed exceedingly hard. Many windows -and valuable looking-glasses have been broken by playing cricket in a -room." - -It was in a cricket match in the summer of 1775, when no less than -three "balls" had rolled in between a Mr. Small's two stumps without -stirring the bail, that it was decided to add stump iii. - -As for "tansy" (line 5), here is a recipe for it (to go with the -sillabub on p. 506): "Take 15 eggs, and 6 of the whites; beat them very -well; then put in some sugar, and a little sack; beat them again, and -put about a pint or a little more of cream; then beat them again; then -put in the juice of spinage or of primrose leaves to make it green. -Then put in some more sugar, if it be not sweet enough; then beat it -again a little, and so let it stand till you fry it, when the first -course is in. Then fry it with a little sweet butter. It must be -stirred and fryed very tender. When it is fryed enough, then put it in -a dish, and strew some sugar upon it, and serve it in." - - - 75. "MARY'S GONE A-MILKING." - -And, according to Sir Thomas Overbury (who dipped his pen in nectar as -well as ink), _"A Fair and Happy Milk-maid_," is "a country wench, that -is so far from making herself beautiful by art, that one look of hers -is able to put all facephysic out of countenance.... - -"She doth not, with lying long abed, spoil both her complexion and -conditions, ... she rises, therefore, with chanticleer, her dame's -cock, and at night makes the lamb her curfew. In milking a cow, and -straining the teats through her fingers, it seems that so sweet a -milk-press makes the milk the whiter or sweeter; for never came almond -glove or aromatic ointment on her palm to taint it. The golden ears of -corn fall and kiss her feet when she reaps them, as if they wish to be -bound and led prisoners by the same hand that felled them. Her breath -is her own which scents all the year long of June, like a new made -haycock. She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with -pity: and when winter evenings fall early (sitting at her merry wheel), -she sings a defiance to the giddy wheel of fortune. She doth all things -with so sweet a grace, it seems ignorance will not suffer her to do -ill, being her mind is to do well.... She dares go alone and unfold -sheep in the night, and fears no manner of ill, because she means none: -yet to say truth, she is never alone, for she is still accompanied with -old songs, honest thoughts, and prayers, but short ones.... - -"Thus lives she, and all her care is she may die in the spring-time, -to have store of flowers stuck upon her winding-sheet." - - - 76. "CYPRESSE BLACK AS ERE WAS CROW." - -Cypresse (according to a memorandum from one of Mr. Nahum's books) -is the fine cobweblike stuff we now call crape. Peaking-stickes, or -poking-sticks, were gophering irons for frilling out linen, flounces, -etc., etc., and not, as one might guess, curling tongs (since a pointed -beard, and the V of hair on the forehead, used to be called peaks). A -quoife or coif is a lady's head-dress, such as is still worn by nuns; -while as for "maskes for faces," fine ladies in Shakespeare's day -customarily wore them (as old pictures show) when they went to see his -plays. Masks were useful too in disguising the faces of his players, -when--as was the custom in the London theatres up to 1629--boys took -women's parts; and in the streets eyes gleamed out of the holes in -them, worn _then_ for keeping the skin fair, untanned, and unfreckled, -as Julia says of herself in Shakespeare's _Two Gentlemen of Verona_: - - But since she did neglect her looking-glasse, - And threw her Sun-expelling masque away, - The ayre hath starved the roses in her cheekes, - And pinched the lily-tincture of her face.... - - - 78. FAIRING. (line 5) - -In this--the earliest known letter of Shelley's--he too asks for a -fairing--the kickshaws and gewgaws sold in the booths of a fair--and a -toothsome one; though I haven't yet been able to discover what he meant -by "hunting nuts": - - Monday, July 18, 1803. (Horsham). - - DEAR KATE, - - We have proposed a day at the pond next Wednesday; and if you - will come to-morrow morning I would be much obliged to you; - and if you could any how bring Tom over to stay all night, - I would thank you. We are to have a cold dinner over at the - pond, and come home to eat a bit of roast chicken and peas at - about nine o'clock. Mama depends upon your bringing Tom over - to-morrow, and if you don't we shall be very much disappointed. - - Tell the bearer not to forget to bring me a fairing--which is - some ginger-bread, sweetmeat, hunting-nuts, and a pocket book. - Now I end. - - I am _not_, - - Your obedient servant, - - P. B. SHELLEY - -Even before Mr. Nahum's tower-room, I loved the "bonny brown hair" -of this poem. Was it squirrel brown, or chestnut, or hazelnut, or -autumn-beech, or heather-brown, or walnut, or old hay colour, or -undappled-fawn, or dark lichen, or velvet brown, or marigold or pansy -or wallflower-brown--or yet another?--every one of which would look -charming beneath the rim of a round blue-ribanded "little straw hat." - - - 80. "WIDDECOMBE FAIR." - -To an eye looking down, the steeple of Widdecombe Church rises in the -midst of Dartmoor like a lovely needle of ivory; and hidden beneath the -turf around it lie, waiting, the bones of Tom Pearse, Bill Brewer ... -Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. - - - 83. "THERE WERE THREE GIPSIES" - ---and they were of England (Somerset), though to judge from this old -ballad they may have padded it down from the Highlands: - - There cam' Seven Egyptians on a day, - And wow, but they sang bonny! - And they sang sae sweet, and sae very complete, - Down cam' Earl Cassilis' lady. - - She cam' tripping adown the stair, - And a' her maids before her; - As soon as they saw her weel-faur'd face - They cast the glamourie owre her; - - They gave to her the nutmeg, - And they gave to her the ginger; - And she gave to them a far better thing, - The seven gold rings off her finger. - -There was a small black cobbled-up book entitled _Glamourie_ in a red -leather case in Thrae, but, alas, it was in a writing I could not -easily decipher. On the fly-leaf was scrawled "H.B.", and beneath it -was the following: - - See, with eyes shut. - Look seldom behind thee. - In secret of selfship - Free thee, not bind thee. - Mark but a flower: - 'Tis of Eden. A fly - Shall sound thee a horn - Wooing Paradise nigh. - Think close. Unto love - Give thy heart's steed the rein; - So--course the World over: - Then homeward again. - - - 84. "WHATEVER THEY FIND THEY TAKE IT." (line 21) - - There was a robber met a robber - On a rig of beans; - Says a robber to a robber, - "Can a robber tell a robber - What a robber means?" - -And if not; why not? I had never seen this scrap of jingle until Mr. -Ralph Hodgson gave it me. And the following version of an old game -rhyme (with its rare "wood") first met my eye by the kindness of -another friend, Mrs. Lyon: - - "My Mother said that I never should - Play with the gypsies in the wood, - The wood was dark; the grass was green; - In came Sally with a tambourine. - - I went to the sea--no ship to get across; - I paid ten shillings for a blind white horse; - I up on his back and was off in a crack, - Sally, tell my Mother I shall never come back." - - - 86. - -This lament for matchless Robin Hood, who should shine in a far better -place than between "Beggars" and "Gilderoy," is the only rhyme about -him in this collection. The fact is, try as I might, I could not make -up my mind which I liked best of his old greenwood ballads in Mr. -Nahum's book. The oldest and best were all in formidable spelling, the -most of them were long, and maybe I was at last a little lazy. They are -all to be found in Professor Child. And if leaving out the merry outlaw -will persuade anyone to get and read _English and Scottish Ballads_, I -shall have omitted him to good purpose. - - - 87. "GILDEROY." - -A pretty song about a monstrously ugly scoundrel, though handsome of -feature. Gilderoy was a highwayman, sparing for his prey neither man -nor woman, and if there were "roses" on his shoes, they were blood-red. -At last fifty armed avengers surrounded his house at night and set -on. He killed eight of them before he was captured; which, if true, -was bonnie fighting. Nevertheless, such a villain he was that he was -hanged, without trial, on a gibbet thirty feet high, and the bones of -him (despite the last stanza of the ballad) dangled in chains forty -feet above Leith Walk in Edinburgh for fifty years afterwards. - - - 88. "AND HIS NAME WAS LITTLE BINGO." - -In bounding health, it is said, a dog's nose and a woman's elbow are -always cold. The reason for which is explained in a legend (referred -to in Mrs. Wright's _Rustic Speech and Folk Lore_). It seems that in -the midst of its forty days' riding on the Flood, the Ark one black -night sprung a little leak. Father Noah having forgotten to bring -his carpenter's bag on board, was at his wits' end to plug the hole -in its timbers. In the beam of his rushlight he looked and he looked -and he looked; and still the water came rilling in and in. His dog, -Shafet, was of course standing by, head on one side, carefully watching -his master. And Noah, by good chance, at last casting his eye in his -direction, seized the faithful creature and, thrusting his nose into -the leak, for a while stopped the flow. But Noah, a merciful man, -and partial to animals, quickly perceived that in a few minutes poor -Shafet would perish of suffocation, and as, by this time, his wife -had descended into the fo'c'sle to see what he was about, he released -his dog's nose, and, instead of it, stuffed in her charming elbow. -Q.E.D. - -But not all dogs are as ready--as Launce in _The Two Gentlemen of -Verona_ knew: - -"_Launce_: 'Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I have done weeping. All -the kinde of the _Launces_, have this very fault: I have received my -proportion, like the prodigious Sonne, and am going with Sir _Protheus_ -to the Imperialls Court: I thinke _Crab_ my dog, be the sowrest natured -dogge that lives: My Mother weeping: my Father wayling: my Sister -crying: our Maid howling: our Catte wringing her hands, and all our -house in a great perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted _Curre_ -shedde one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no more -pitty in him then a dogge!" - - - 90. "POOR OLD HORSE." - - In the furrowed land - The toilsome and patient oxen stand. - Lifting the yoke-encumbered head, - With their dilated nostrils spread, - - They silently inhale - The clover-scented gale, - And the vapours that arise - From the well-watered and smoking soil. - - For this rest in the furrow after toil - Their large and lustrous eyes - Seem to thank the Lord, - More than man's spoken word. - - H. W. LONGFELLOW - - - 91. "AY ME, ALAS." - -Messalina's monkey was, I should fancy, of the kind called a marmoset, -"blacke and greene." "Their agilitie and manner of doing is admirable, -for that they seeme to have reason and discourse to go upon trees, -wherein they seeme to imitate birds." There are so few of these far -fair cousins of ours in poetry that I cannot forbear adding a note of -Mr. Nahum's from Sir John Maundeville's _Travels_. - -"... From that City, (that is to say Cassay--the City of Heaven), men -go by Water, solacing and disporting themselves, till they come to -an Abbey of Monks--that is fast by--that be good religious men after -their Faith and Law. In that Abbey is a great Garden and a fair, where -be many Trees of diverse manner of Fruits. And in this Garden, is a -little Hill, full of delectable Trees. In that Hill and in that Garden -be many divers Beasts, as of Apes, Marmosets, Baboons, and many other -divers Beasts. And every day, when the Monks of this Abbey have eaten, -the Almoner has the remnants carried forth into the Garden, and he -smiteth on the Garden Gate with a Clicket of Silver that he holdeth -in his hand, and anon all the Beasts of the Hill and of divers places -of the Garden, come out, a 3000 or a 4000 of them; they approach as -if they were poor men come a-begging; and the Almoner's servants give -them the remnants, in fair Vessels of Silver, clean over gilt. And when -they have eaten, the Monk smiteth eftsoons on the Garden Gate with the -Clicket; and then anon all the Beasts return again to their places that -they came from. And they say that these Beasts be Souls of worthy men, -that resemble in likeness the Beasts that be fair: and therefore they -give them meat for the love of God." - - - 92. "O HAPPY FLY." - -And here is another of these creatures--"a sleepy fly that rubs its -hands," in Mr. Hardy's words--William Blake's: - - Little Fly, - Thy summer's play - My thoughtless hand - Has brushed away. - - Am not I - A fly like thee? - Or art not thou - A man like me? - - For I dance, - And drink, and sing, - Till some blind hand - Shall brush my wing. - - If thought is life - And strength and breath, - And the want - Of thought is death; - - Then am I - A happy fly, - If I live - Or if I die. - -But the Happy Fly is nowadays gone so dismally out of favour that it -would perhaps be prudent to draw attention from him to Lovelace's -"Grasshopper": - - O thou that swing'st upon the waving hair - Of some well-fillèd oaten beard, - Drunk every night with a delicious tear - Dropt thee from heaven, where thou wert reared! - - The joys of earth and air are thine entire, - That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly; - And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire - To thy carved acorn-bed to lie. - - Up with the day, the Sun thou welcom'st then, - Sport'st in the gilt plaits of his beams, - And all these merry days mak'st merry men, - Thyself, and melancholy streams. - - - 93. "LO, THE BRIGHT AIR ALIVE WITH DRAGONFLIES." - -There is an old dialect children's rhyme about these lightlike -shimmering _stingless_ insects: - - Snakestanger, snakestanger, vlee aal about the brooks; - Sting aal the bad bwoys that vor the fish looks, - Bút let the góod bwoys ketch aál the vish they can, - And car'm away whooam to vry 'em in a pan; - Bread and butter they shall yeat at zupper wi' their vish - While aal the littull bad bwoys shall only lick the dish. - -And here is yet another rhyme on the _Firefly_ (from Du Bartas), which -I have borrowed (with other passages as curious) from a mine of such -things, _Animal Lore of Shakespeare's Time_, by Miss Emma Phipson: - - "New-Spain's _cucuio_, in his forehead brings - Two burning lamps, two underneath his wings: - Whose shining rayes serve oft, in darkest night, - Th' imbroderer's hand in royall works to light: - Th' ingenious turner, with a wakefull eye, - To polish fair his purest ivory: - The usurer to count his glistring treasures: - The learned scribe to limn his golden measures." - -"There is a kind of little animal of the size of prawnes," says -Champlain of these tiny winged things, "which fly by night, and make -such light in the air that one would say that they were so many little -candles. If a man had three or four of these little creatures, which -are not larger than a filbert, he could read as well at night as with a -wax light." - - - 95. "THE SALE OF THE PET LAMB." - -"The Pet Lamb" by William Wordsworth is certainly of a more delicate -light and colour and music than this poem. But it is much better known. -And there is a secret something in the words of Mary Howitt's that wins -one at once to love the writer of it. - - - 98. - -This is another translation by Kuno Meyer from the ancient Irish--just -the bare bones, that is, of a poem that in its original tongue must -have been many times more musical with rhyme and gentle echo and -cadence; for the craft of Gaelic verse was an exceedingly delicate one. - -I like it for the sake of its cat, its monk, and its age, but chiefly -because it reminds me of my own far-away days at Thrae--brooding up -there in solitude and silence over Mr. Nahum's books. - -As for "white Pangur" and his kind, "it is needlesse," says Topsell, -"to spend any time about [Puss's] loving nature to man, how she -flattereth by rubbing her skinne against ones legges, how she whurleth -with her voyce, having as many tunes as turnes; for she hath one voice -to beg and to complain, another to testifie her delight and pleasure, -another among her own kind by flattring, by hissing, by spitting, -insomuch as some have thought that they have a peculiar intelligible -language among themselves." So also John de Trevisa, in 1387: "The -catte is a beaste of uncerten heare (hair) and colour; for some catte -is white, some rede, some blacke, some skewed (piebald) and speckled -in the fete and in the face and in the eares. He is a beste in youth, -swyfte, plyaunte, and mery, and lepeth and reseth (rusheth) on all -thynge that is tofore him; and is led by a strawe and playeth -therwith. He is a right hevy beast in aege, and ful slepy, and lyeth -slily in wait for myce. And he maketh a ruthefull noyse and gastfull, -whan one proffreth to fyghte with another, and he falleth on his owne -fete whan he falleth out of hye places." - -The writings of the ancient Egyptians show that, far from detesting to -wet his paws, he would then _swim_ in pursuit of fish. They painted -a cat for the sound "miaou" in their hieroglyphics; gazed into his -changing moon-like eyes and revered him; and embalmed him when dead. - -Having borrowed him from Egypt, the Romans brought him to Britain -(though we already had a wilding of our own, _Felis Catus_'), with the -ass, the goat, the rabbit, the peacock, not to speak of the cherry, the -walnut, the crocus, the tulip, the leek, the cucumber, etc. The Monk's -Pangur, then, came of a long lineage. - -So valuable were cats in _Wales_ in the eleventh century (two or three -hundred years after Pangur), that their price was fixed by law: for -a blind kitten a penny; for a kitten with its eyes open, twopence; -for a cat of one mouse, fourpence, and so on. And to kill one of the -Prince's granary cats meant payment of a fine of as much wheat as -would cover up its body when suspended by its tail. In Scotland there -has long been a complete Clan of Cats--apart from the witches. As for -the Cheshire Cat, he grins, I imagine, not because he has nine lives, -is said to be melancholy, may look at a king, and has nothing to do -with Catgut, Cat's cradle, and Cat-i'-the-pan, but because he has -read in a dictionary that Dick Whittington sailed off to the Isle of -Rats, not with a Cat, but with _acat_ or _achat_, meaning goods for -trading--Coals! Long may he grin! How but one country Gib or Tom may -befriend the brightfaced Heartsease (so sturdy a little dear that it -will bloom at burning noonday in a gravel path) Charles Darwin tells in -his "_Origin of Species_," p. 57. - -His "loving nature" to creatures _other_ than man and the heartsease is -referred to in the following old Scots nursery rhyme: - - There was a wee bit mousikie, - That lived in Gilberaty, O, - It couldna get a bite o' cheese, - For cheetie-poussie-cattie, O. - - It said unto the cheesikie, - "Oh fain wad I be at ye, O, - If 't were na for the cruel paws - O' cheetie-poussie-cattie, O." - - - 99. "ON WHAT WINGS DARE HE ASPIRE." - -The verb _dare_ (I gather from Webster) was once used only in the past -tense, the preterite; for "dare he" therefore in this poem we should -now write _dared he_. - - - 100. - -Andrew Marvell has three rare charms--his poetry is wholly his own; it -is as delightful as the sound of his name; and the face in his portrait -is as enchanting as either. - - - 101-2. - -The Phillip of these two poems is, I suppose, the hedge-sparrow or -dunnock, that gentle and happy little cousin of the warblers--as light -and lovely in voice as they are on the wing. As everyone knows, a -bullfinch can be taught to whistle like a baker's boy, and will become -so jealous of his mistress that he will hiss and ruff with rage at -every stranger. Jackdaws and magpies, too, will become friends to a -friend. But a lady whom I have the happiness to know has a nightingale -that was hatched in captivity, and so has never shared either the -delights or the dangers of the wild. So easy is he in her company that -he will perch on her pen-tip as she sits at table, and sing as if out -of a garden in Damascus. - - - 102. "HE WOULD CHIRP." - -"... As she (St. Douceline) sat at meat, if anyone brought her a -flower, a bird, a fruit, or any other thing that gave her pleasure, -then she fell straightway into an ecstasy, and was caught up to Him Who -had made these fair creatures.... One day she heard a lonely sparrow -sing, whereupon she said to her companions, 'How lonely is the song of -that bird!' and in the twinkling of an eye she was in an ecstasy, drawn -up to God by the bird's voice...." - -The above is from _A Medieval Garner_, and this, from a Note to "A -Saint's Tragedy," by Margaret L. Woods: When the blessed Elizabeth -"had been ill twelve days and more, one of her maids sitting by her -bed heard in her throat a very sweet sound, ... and saying, 'Oh, my -mistress, how sweetly thou didst sing!' she answered, 'I tell thee, I -heard a little bird between me and the wall sing merrily; who with his -sweet song so stirred me up that I could not but sing myself.'" - - - "LOVING REDBREASTS." (line 31) - - My dear, do you know - How a long time ago, - Two poor little children, - Whose names I don't know, - Were stolen away - On a fine summer's day, - And left in a wood, - As I've heard people say. - - And when it was night, - So sad was their plight, - The sun it went down, - And the moon gave no light! - They sobbed and they sighed, - And they bitterly cried, - And the poor little things, - They laid down and died. - - And when they were dead, - The robins so red - Brought strawberry leaves, - And over them spread; - And all the day long, - They sang them this song,-- - Poor babes in the wood! - Poor babes in the wood! - And don't you remember - The babes in the wood? - - - 105. "'TIS A NOTE OF ENCHANTMENT." - -It was a note of enchantment such as this that haunted the memory of -Edward Thomas when he was writing his poem called _The Unknown Bird._ I -give only a few lines, but the rest of the beautiful thing may be found -in his _Poems_: - - Oftenest when I heard him I was alone, - Nor could I ever make another hear. - La-la-la! he called seeming far-off-- - As if a cock crowed past the edge of the world, - As if the bird or I were in a dream.... - - ... O wild-raving winds! if you ever do roar - By the house and the elms from where I've a-come, - Breathe up at the window, or call at the door, - And tell you've a found me a-thinking of home." - - WILLIAM BARNES - - - 107. "LIKE A LADY BRIGHT." - -"They say," says Ophelia, "they say the owle was a Baker's daughter. -Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your -Table." And thus runs the story: - -Our Saviour being footsore, weary and hungry one darkening evening, -went into a baker's shop and asked for bread. The oven being then hot -and all prepared for the baking, the mistress of the shop cut off a -good-sized piece of the risen dough to bake for him. At this her fair, -greedy daughter, who sate watching what was forward from a little -window, upbraided her mother for this wasting of profit on such an -outcast; and taking the platter out of her hands, she chopped the piece -of dough into half, and half, and half again. Nevertheless when this -mean small lump was put into the oven, it presently began miraculously -to rise and swell until it exceeded a full quartern of wheaten bread. -In alarm at this strange sight the daughter--her round blue eyes -largely eyeing the stranger in the dim light--turned on her mother, and -cried out: "O Mother, Mother, _Heugh, heugh, heugh_." "As thou hast -spoken," said our Saviour, "so be thou: child of the Night." Whereupon, -the poor creature, feathered and in the likeness of an owl, fled forth -into the dark towards the woodside. - - - "109. THE WHITE OWL." - - When night is o'er the wood - And moon-scared watch-dogs howl, - Comes forth in search of food - The snowy mystic owl. - His soft, white, ghostly wings - Beat noiselessly the air - Like some lost soul that hopelessly - Is mute in its despair. - - But now his hollow note - Rings cheerless through the glade - And o'er the silent moat - He flits from shade to shade. - He hovers, swoops and glides - O'er meadows, moors and streams; - He seems to be some fantasy-- - A ghostly bird of dreams. - - Why dost thou haunt the night? - Why dost thou love the moon - When other birds delight - To sing their joy at noon? - Art thou then crazed with love, - Or is't for some fell crime - That thus thou flittest covertly - At this unhallowed time? - - F. J. PATMORE - - - "111. HER SMALL SOUL." (line 23) - -_Smallest_ of all shrill souls among the English birds is the wren, but -she has a remote relative that dwells in the dark and enormous forests -of South America, the Humming Bird, and simply for their own sakes I -cannot resist borrowing two more fragments from Miss Phipson's _Animal -Lore_. The first comes out of Purchas's _Pilgrimes_, and was written by -Antonia Galvano of New Spain: - -"There be certaine small birds named _vicmalim_, their bil is small and -long. They live of the dew, and the juyce of flowers and roses. Their -feathers bee small and of divers colours. They be greatly esteemed -to worke gold with. They die or sleepe every yeere in the moneth of -October, sitting upon a little bough in a warme and close place: they -revive or wake againe in the moneth of April after that the flowers be -sprung, and therefore they call them the revived birds--_Vicmalim_." - -The second is Gonzalo Ferdinando de Oviedo's--his very name a string of -gems: - -"... I have seene that one of these birds with her nest put into a -paire of gold weights [scales] altogether, hath waide no more then a -_tomini_, which are in poise 24 graines, with the feathers, without -the which she would have waied somewhat less. And doubtlesse, when I -consider the finenesse of the clawes and feete of these birds, I know -not whereunto I may better liken them then to the little birds which -the lymners of bookes are accustomed to paint on the margent of church -bookes, and other bookes of divine service. Their feathers are of manie -faire colours, as golden, yellow, and greene, beside other variable -colours. Their beake is verie long for the proportion of their bodies, -and as fine and subtile as a sowing needle. They are verie hardy, so -that when they see a man clime the tree where they have their nests, -they fly at his face, and strike him in the eyes, comming, going, and -returning with such swiftnesse, that no man should lightly beleeve it -that had not seene it...." - - - "112. IT CAUGHT HIS IMAGE" - -And Shelley: - - ... I cannot tell my joy, when o'er a lake - Upon a drooping bough with nightshade twined, - I saw two azure halcyons clinging downward - And thinning one bright bunch of amber berries, - With quick long beaks, and in the deep there lay - Those lovely forms imaged as in a sky.... - -Anyone so happy as to be able to remember Mary Coleridge as a friend, -will agree that to have seen her eyes is to have seen her own pool and -Shelley's lake, imaging such lovely flitting halcyons. - - - 114. "KING PANDION HE IS DEAD." - -A wild and dreadful legend is hidden here--of a King who wronged his -Queen and her sister, daughters of Pandion, and how they avenged -themselves upon him, sacrificing his son to their hatred. That Queen, -goes this old tale, became a nightingale, her sister a swallow (crimson -still dying the feathers of her throat), the evil king a hoopoe, and -the firstborn was raised to life again a pheasant. - - - 115. "A SPARHAWK PROUD" - ---a little bird but of a noble family. Listen, at least, to Auceps, -the Faulkner or Falconer, in "_The Compleat Angler_." [I have inserted -a few full stops in a sentence that has none] "... And first, for -the Element that I use to trade in, which is the Air, an Element of -more worth than weight, an Element that doubtless exceeds both the -Earth and Water; for though I sometimes deal in both; yet the Air is -most properly mine, I and my Hawks use that most, and it yields us -most recreation. It stops not the high soaring of my noble generous -_Falcon_; in it she ascends to such an height, as the dull eyes of -beasts and fish are not able to reach to; their bodies are too gross -for such high elevations. In the Air my troops of Hawks soar up on -high, and when they are lost in the sight of men, then they attend upon -and converse with the gods, therefore I think my _Eagle_ is so justly -styled, Joves servant in Ordinary. And that very Falcon, that I am now -going to see, deserves no meaner a title, for she usually in her flight -endangers her self, (like the son of _Daedalus_), to have her wings -scorched by the Suns heat, she flyes so near it. But her mettle makes -her careless of danger, for she then heeds nothing, but makes her -nimble Pinions cut the fluid air, and so makes her high way over the -steepest mountains and deepest rivers, and in her glorious carere looks -with contempt upon those high Steeples and magnificent Palaces which -we adore and wonder at; from which height I can make her to descend by -a word from my mouth (which she both knows and obeys), to accept of -meat from my hand, to own me for her Master, to go home with me, and be -willing the next day to afford me the like recreation...." - - - 120. "COME WARY ONE." - - ... Tak any brid,[213] and put it in a cage, - And do al thyn entente and thy corage - To fostre it tendrely with mete and drinke, - Of allè deyntees that thou canst bithinke, - And keep it al-so clenly as thou may; - Al-though his cage of gold be never so gay, - Yet hath this brid, by twenty thousand fold, - Lever in a forest, that is rude and cold, - Gon eté wormés and seich wrecchednesse. - For ever this brid wol doon his bisinesse - To escape out of his cagÄ—, if he may; - His libertee this brid desireth ay.... - - GEOFFREY CHAUCER - -When I was a child of eight or nine I had a kind of passion for -sparrows, and used to set traps for them; but even if I succeeded in -taking one alive, which was not always, I could never persuade it to -live in a cage above a day or two, however much I pampered it. It -drooped and died. Then, like a young crocodile, I occasionally shed -tears. One fine morning, I remember, I visited a distant trap and, as -usual, all but stopped breathing at discovering that it was "down." -Very cautiously edging in my fingers towards the captive, I was -startled out of my wits by a sudden prodigious skirring of wings, and -lo and behold, I had caught--and lost--a starling. He fled away twenty -yards or so, and perched on a hillock. I see him now, his feathers -glistening in the sun, and his sharp head turned towards me, his eyes -looking back at me, as if foe at foe. And that reminds me of the -Griffons--the guardians of the mines of the one-eyed Arimaspians. - -"... From that land go men toward the land of Bacharie, where be -full evil folk and full cruel.... In that country be many griffounes, -more plentiful than in any other country. Some men say that they have -the body upward as an eagle, and beneath as a lion; and truly they -say sooth that they be of that shape. But a griffoun hath the body -more great, and is more strong, than eight lions, of such lions as be -on this side of the world; and larger and stronger than an hundred -eagles, such as we have amongst us. For a griffoun there will bear -flying to his nest a great horse, if he may find him handy, or two -oxen yoked together, as they go at the plough. For he hath his talons -so long and so broad and great upon his feet, as though they were -homes of great oxen, or of bugles (bullocks), or of kine; so that men -make cups of them, to drink out of. And of their ribs, and the quills -of their wings, men make bows full strong, to shoot with arrows and -bow-bolts...." - -But a griffoun is only a gigantic starling, so to speak; and it's a -pity mine and I were enemies. "If a sparrow come before my window," -wrote John Keats in one of his letters, "I take part in its existence, -and pick about the gravel." Brick-traps are little help in this. - - A Robin Redbreast in a cage - Puts all Heaven in a rage ... - - A Skylark wounded in the wing, - A Cherubim does cease to sing ... - - The wild Deer wandering here and there - Keeps the Human Soul from care ... - - He who shall hurt the little Wren - Shall never be beloved by Men ... - - The wanton Boy that kills the Fly - Shall feel the Spider's enmity ... - - Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly, - For the Last Judgment draweth nigh ... - - The Beggar's Dog and Widow's Cat, - Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat ... - - To see a World in a Grain of Sand, - And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, - Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, - And Eternity in an hour. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - ... What is heaven? a globe of dew, - Filling in the morning new - Some eyed flower whose young leaves waken - On an unimagined world: - Constellated suns unshaken, - Orbits measureless, are furled - In that frail and fading sphere, - With ten millions gathered there, - To tremble, gleam, and disappear. - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - -The men who wrote these words, truly and solemnly meant them. They are -not mere pretty flowers of the fancy, but the tough piercing roots of -the tree of life that grew within their minds. - - - 126. "COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS." - -This poem and many others I copied out of Mr. Nahum's book in their -original spelling. At first I found the reading of some of them very -troublesome. It was like looking at a dried-up flower or beetle. But -there the things were; and after a good deal of trouble I not only -began to read them more easily, but grew to like them thus for their -own sake. First, because this was as they were actually written, before -our English printers agreed to spell alike; and next, because the old -words with their look of age became a pleasure to me in themselves. It -was like watching the dried-up flower or beetle actually and as if by a -magic of the mind coming to life. Besides, many of Shakespeare's small -poems were already known to me. It touched them with newness to see -them (though indeed _he_ never so saw them), as they appeared (seven -years after his death), in the pages of the famous folio volume of his -_Plays_ that was printed in 1623 by Isaac Jaggard and Edward Blount. - -Not only that; for it is curious too to see how in the old days English -was constantly changing--its faded words falling like dead leaves from -a tree, and new ones appearing. In a book which William Caxton printed -as far back even as 1490, he says: "And certainly our language now -used varieth far from that which was used and spoken when I was born. -For we Englishmen be born under the domination of the moon, which is -never steadfast but ever wavering, waxing one season and waneth and -decreaseth another season." So in our own day words, like human beings, -come into the world and pass away: and many gradually change their -meanings. - -For if the spelling of a word alters its effect on the eye, it must -also affect the _mind_ of the reader; and I must confess that "my -lovynge deare," looks to me to tell of somebody more lovable even than -"my loving dear." And what about shoogar-plummes, cleere greye eies, -the murrkie fogghe, the moones enravysshynge? - -And what about-- - - "Let's goe to Bedde," says Sleepihed; - "Tarrie a while," says Slowe; - "Putte on the Panne," says Greedie Nanne, - "Wee'll suppe afore wee goe." - -Not that I have _always_ kept to the old spellings. I have followed my -fancy; and if anyone would like to see an old poem in its first looks -that is here printed in our own way, all he need do is to go back to -the book in which it first appeared. - - - 128. "SHEE CARRIES ME ABOVE THE SKIE." - - ... This palace standeth in the air, - By necromancy placèd there, - That it no tempest needs to fear, - Which way soe'er it blow it; - And somewhat southward toward the noon, - Whence lies a way up to the moon, - And thence the Fairy can as soon - Pass to the earth below it. - - The walls of spiders' legs are made - Well mortisèd and finely laid; - He was the master of his trade - It curiously that builded: - The windows of the eyes of cats, - And for the roof, instead of slats, - Is covered with the skins of bats, - With moonshine that are gilded.... - - MICHAEL DRAYTON - - - 129. "WHO CALLS?" - - ... Such a soft floating witchery of sound - As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve - Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land, - Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers, - Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise, - Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untamed wing!... - - S. T. COLERIDGE - - - 133. "FOR FEAR OF LITTLE MEN." - -"Terrestrial devils," says Robert Burton, "are those Lares, Genii, -Fauns, Satyrs, Wood-nymphs, Foliots, Fairies, Robin Goodfellows, -Trulli, etc., which as they are most conversant with men, so they do -them most harm.... These are they that dance on heaths and greens ... -and leave that green circle, which we commonly find in plain fields, -which others hold to proceed from a meteor falling, or some accidental -rankness of the ground, so nature sports herself; they are sometimes -seen by old women and children.... Paracelsus reckons up many places -in Germany, where they do usually walk in little coats, some two -feet long. A bigger kind there is of them called with us hobgoblins, -and Robin Goodfellows, that would in those superstitious times grind -corn for a mess of milk, cut wood, or do any manner of drudgery work. -They would mend old irons in those Aeolian isles of Lipari, in former -ages, and have been often seen and heard.... Dithmarus Bleskenius, -in his description of Iceland, reports for a certainty, that almost -in every family they have yet some such familiar spirits.... Another -sort of these there are, which frequent forlorn houses.... They will -make strange noises in the night, howl sometimes pitifully, and then -laugh again, cause great flame and sudden lights, fling stones, rattle -chains, shave men, open doors and shut them, fling down platters, -stools, chests, sometimes appear in the likeness of hares, crows, black -dogs, etc." ... - - - 135. - -So too with Hazel Dorn, in the following poem by Mr. Bernard Sleigh, -who has most kindly allowed me to print it here for the first time. - - They stole her from the well beside the wood. - Ten years ago as village gossips tell; - One Beltane-eve when trees were all a-bud - In copse and fell. - - Ominous, vast, the moon rose full and red - Behind dim hills; no leaf stirred in the glen - That breathless eve, when she was pixy-led - Beyond our ken. - - For she had worn no rowan in her hair,-- - Nor set the cream-bowl by the kitchen door,-- - Nor whispered low the pagan faery prayer - Of ancient lore; - - But trod that daisied ring in hose and shoon, - To hear entranced, their elf-bells round her ring; - The wizard spells about her wail and croon - With gathering string. - - Swiftly her arms they bound in gossamer, - With elvish lures they held her soul in thrall; - With wizard sorceries enveloped her - Past cry or call. - - A passing shepherd caught his breath to see - A golden mist of moving wings and lights - Swirl upwards past the red moon eeriely - To starlit heights. - - While far off carollings half drowned a cry, - Mournful, remote, of "Mother, Mother dear," - Floating across the drifting haze,--a sigh - "Farewell, Farewell!" - -In the small hours of Beltane or May Day, vast fires have been wont to -be kindled on the hills of the Highlands--a custom old as the Druids. -Mr. Gilbert Sheldon tells me that as lately as 1899 he saw the hills -round Glengariff ablaze with them. They must be set a-flame with what -is called need-fire. And need-fire is made by nine men twisting a -wimble of wood in a balk of oak until the friction makes sparks fly. -With these they ignite dry agaric, a fungus that grows on birch-trees, -and soon the blaze is reddening the countryside under the night-sky. -Need-fire in a window-nook or carried in a lantern is--like iron--an -invincible defence against witches and witchcraft. Beltane cakes--to -be eaten whilst squatting on the hills, or dancing and watching the -fire--are made out of a caudle of eggs, butter, oatmeal and milk. - - - "NO ROWAN IN HER HAIR." - -So potent is the flower or berry or wood of the rowan or witchwood -or quicken or whicken-tree or mountain ash against the wiles of the -elf-folk, that dairymaids use it for cream-stirrers and cowherds for a -switch. - - Rowan-tree and red thread - Gar the Witches tyne their speed. - - - 136. "TRUE THOMAS." - -There are four copies in handwriting--two of them written about -1450--of a rhymed romance telling how Thomas in his youth, while -dreaming daydreams under the Eildon Tree, was met and greeted by the -Queen of fair Elfland. The ballad on p. 127 has been passed on from -mouth to mouth. - -Up to our own grandmothers' day, at least, this Thomas Rhymour of -Ercildoune--a village nor far distant from where the Leader joins the -Tweed--was famous as a Wise One and a Seer (a See-er--with the inward -eye). He lived seven centuries ago, between 1210 and 1297. Years -after he had returned from Elfland--as the ballad tells--while he sat -feasting in his Castle, news was brought to him that a hart and a hind, -having issued out of the forest, were to be seen stepping fair and -softly down the stony street of the town, to the marvel of the people. -At this, Thomas at once rose from among his guests; left the table; -made down to the street; followed after these strange summoners: and -was seen again no more. - -"Ilka tett," line 7, means every twist or plait; a "fairlie," stanza -II, is a wonder, mystery, marvel; and the "coat" in the last stanza, -being of "even cloth," was finer than the finest _napless_ damask. - -So, too, Young Tamlane, when a boy "just turned of nine," was carried -off by the Elfin Queen: - - Ae fatal morning I went out - Dreading nae injury, - And thinking lang, fell soun asleep - Beneath an apple tree. - - Then by it came the Elfin Queen - And laid her hand on me; - And from that time since ever I mind - I've been in her companie.... - -He seems to have been an outlandish and unhuman creature--if this next -rhyme tells of him truly (_gait_, meaning road; _pin_, (?) knife; -_coft_, bought; _moss_, peat-bog; and _boonmost_--you can guess): - - Tam o' the linn came up the gait, - Wi' twenty puddings on a plate, - And every pudding had a pin, - "We'll eat them a'," quo' Tam o' the linn. - - Tam o' the linn had nae breeks to wear, - He coft him a sheep's-skin to make him a pair, - The fleshy side out, the woolly side in, - "It's fine summer cleeding," quo' Tam o' the linn. - - Tam o' the linn he had three bairns, - They fell in the fire, in each others' arms; - "Oh," quo' the boonmost, "I've got a het skin;" - "It's better below," quo' Tam o' the linn. - - Tam o' the linn gaed to the moss, - To seek a stable to his horse; - The moss was open, and Tam fell in, - "I've stabled mysel'," quo' Tam o' the linn. - - - 138. "SABRINA." - -This song is from "Comus," a masque written by Milton for the -entertainment of the Earl of Bridgewater, lord lieutenant of Wales, at -Ludlow Castle in 1634. That Castle's Hall is now open to the sky--"the -lightning shines there; snow burdens the ivy." From a neighbouring -room the two princes, Edward V. and his brother, went to their dark -death in the Tower. Below the ruinous Castle flow together the Terne -and the Corve, on their way to the great Severn--of which Sabrina, the -daughter of Estrildis, is the Nymph, she having been drowned in its -waters by Guendolen, the jealous queen of Locrine the son of Brut. -Estrildis herself, the daughter of King Humber, "so farre excelled in -bewtie, that none was then lightly found unto her comparable, for her -skin was so whyte that scarcely the fynest kind of Ivorie that might -be found, nor the snowe lately fallen downe from the Elament, nor the -Lylles did passe the same." - -Milton's poems--_Lycidas_, for instance--frequently resemble bunches of -keys, each one of them fitting the lock of some ancient myth or legend. -In the lines I have omitted from No. 138 are many such locks awaiting -the reader--a reference to the following tale of Glaucus, for example: - -There is a secret herb which, if nibbled by fish already gasping -to death in our air, gives them the power and cunning to slip back -through the grasses into their waters again. Of this herb Glaucus -tasted, and instantly his eyes dazzled in desire to share their green -transparent deeps. Whereupon the laughing divinities of the rivers gave -him sea-green hair, sleeking the stream, fins and a fish's tail, and -feasted him merrily. His story is told by Keats in the third book of -his _Endymion_, while Leucothea's, another reference, is to be found -in the fifth of the _Odyssey_. As for the Sirens, here is the counsel -Circe gave Ulysses, the while his seamen lay asleep the night after -they had returned in safety from Pluto's dismal mansions: - - "... And then observe: They sit amidst a mead, - And round about it runs a hedge or wall - Of dead men's bones, their withered skins and all - Hung all along upon it; and these men - Were such as they had fawned into their fen, - And then their skins hung on their hedge of bones. - Sail by them therefore, thy companions - Beforehand causing to stop every ear - With sweet soft wax, so close that none may hear - A note of all their charmings...." - - - 139. - -These Songs are from the last act of "A Midsummer Night's Dream"--the -Duke and his guests are retired, and now sleep far from Life's Play; -and Puck and the fairies are abroad in his palace. - - "I AM SENT WITH BROOME BEFORE." - - When the cock begins to crow, - And the embers leave to glow, - And the owl cries, Tu-whit--Tu-whoo, - When crickets do sing - And mice roam about, - And midnight bells ring - To call the devout: - When the lazy lie sleeping - And think it no harm, - Their zeal is so cold - And their beds are so warm. - When the long--long lazy slut - Has not made the parlour clean, - No water on the hearth is put, - But all things in disorder seem; - Then we trip it round the room - And make like bees a drowsy hum. - Be she Betty, Nan, or Sue, - We make her of another hue - And pinch her black and blue. - -But when the Puritans came in, it seems, the fairies fled away. And -Richard Corbet bewailed their exile: - - "Farewell, rewards and fairies!" - Good housewives now may say, - For now foul sluts in dairies - Do fare as well as they. - And though they sweep their hearths no less - Than maids were wont to do, - Yet who of late, for cleanliness, - Finds sixpence in her shoe?... - - At morning and at evening both - You merry were and glad; - So little care of sleep or sloth - These pretty ladies had; - When Tom came home from labour, - Or Ciss to milking rose, - Then merrily merrily went their tabour - And nimbly went their toes. - - Witness those rings and roundelays - Of theirs, which yet remain, - Were footed in Queen Mary's days - On many a grassy plain; - But since of late, Elizabeth, - And later, James came in, - They never danced on any heath - As when the time hath been. - -For times change, and with them changes the direction of man's -imagination. He turns his questing thoughts now this way, now that; and -though our learned dictionaries may maintain that fairy rings are but -brighter circles in green grass formed by "certain fungi, especially -_marasmius oreades_"--who knows?-- - - He that sees blowing the wild wood tree, - And peewits circling their watery glass, - Dreams about Strangers that yet may be - Dark to our eyes, Alas! - -After all, Geoffrey Chaucer, even in _his_ distant day, lamented -that England was bereft of the Silent Folk. Whisper, and they will -return--bringing with them Prince Oberon, who "is of heyght but of III -fote, and crokyd shulderyd.... And yf ye speke to hym, ye are lost for -ever." - - - 140. "AWM. 'WHO FEASTS TONIGHT?'" - -Another mere fragment--from p. 182 of Mr. C. M. Doughty's Play, -entitled _The Cliffs_. For the complete "feast" bestowed on the world -by this great traveller and poet, the reader must seek out not only -this volume, but his _Arabia Deserta_, and his _Dawn in Britain_. - - - "ALL IN THEIR WATCHET CLOAKS." (line 15) - - "Nan Page (my daughter) and my little sonne, - And three or foure more of their growth, wee'l dress - Like Urchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene and white, - With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads, - And rattles in their hands ..." - - _The Merry Wives of Windsor._ - - - 141. A HUNT'S-UP - -was in old days the Tally-ho blared at daybreak to rouse the chase. - - My houndes are bred of Southern kinde, - So flewed, so sanded they; - With crooked knees and dew-laps depe, - With eares the morning dew that sweepe - Slowly they chase their praye; - Their mouths, as tunable as belles - Each under each in concert swells. - _The hunte is up, the morne is bright and gray, - Hunting us hence with hunte's up to the day...._ - - Beyond all beastys poor timorous Wat - The hunter's skille doth trye, - See how the houndes, with many a doubte - The cold fault cleanly single out! - Hark to their merrie crie! - They spende their mouthes, echoe replies, - Another chase is in the skies. - _The hunte is up, the morne is bright and gray, - Hunting us hence with hunte's up to the day...._ - -These are two of the seven stanzas of a song richly larded with -Shakesperean allusions, to be found in _The Diary of Master William -Silence_. - -In his book on English Poesy, Puttenham, who was born about 1520, says -that a poet of the name of Gray won the esteem of Henry VIII. and the -Duke of Somerset for "making certeine merry ballades, whereof one -chiefly was, 'the hunte is up, the hunte is up." Henry VIII., moreover, -was himself a versifier, and a musician, though, as I have read, a dull -one. Here is the first stanza of one of his poems: - - As the holly groweth green, - And never changeth hue, - So I am, ever hath been - Unto my lady true.... - -which, with another equally surprising in sentiment, may be found in -full in that casket of antiquities, "Early English Lyrics, chosen by E. -K. Chambers and F. Sidgwick." - - - 143. "WITH HIS COAT SO GRAY." - - Though I be now a grey, grey friar, - Yet I was once a hale young knight, - The cry of my dogs was the only quoir - In which my spirit did take delight. - - THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK - - - "D'YE KEN THAT A FOX WITH HIS LAST BREATH CURSED THEM ALL AS HE - DIED IN THE MORNING." - -"'Hearken, Reynard, to my words,' (went on the King of Beasts). 'To-day -you shall answer with your life for these sins you have committed.' -... 'But nay, my lord,' (sighed the fox), 'I am innocent of all these -things. Your Majesty is great and mighty; I meagre and weak. If it -is the King's pleasure to kill me, I must die, for whether justly or -unjustly, I am your servant; my only strength is in your justice and -mercy. To these I appeal, as none has yet appealed in vain. Yea, if it -be your Majesty's will that I shall die, then do I accept it humbly. I -say no more. But yet I cannot think it a worthy thing for so great a -King to wreak his vengeance upon a subject so small.'" - - - 148. "A FULLE FAYRE TYME." - -What wonder May was welcome in medieval days--after the long winters -and the black cold nights when roads were all but impassable, and men, -"despisinge schetes" and nightgear, went to their naked beds with -nought but the stars or a dip for candle and maybe their own bones and -a scatter of straw for warmth. Is not "Loud sing Cuckoo!" our oldest -song? - - - 149. "LUBBER BREEZE." - -I suppose, is the prevalent wind in Lubberland or Cocaigne, where "the -pigs run about ready roasted, and cry, Come eat me!" - -And here is a picture of another land of mill, that once long ago sang -to its waters, and dreamed above its image in the weir: - - Only the sound remains - Of the old mill; - Gone is the wheel; - On the prone roof and walls the nettle reigns. - - Water that toils no more - Dangles white locks - And, falling, mocks - The music of the mill-wheel's busy roar.... - - Only the idle foam - Of water falling - Changelessly calling, - Where once men had a work-place and a home. - - EDWARD THOMAS - - - 150. "THE AMPLE HEAVEN." - - The unthrifty sun shot vital gold, - A thousand pieces; - And heaven its azure did unfold - Chequered with snowy fleeces; - The air was all in spice, - And every bush - A garland wore; thus fed my eyes, - But all the earth lay hush. - - Only a little fountain lent - Some use for ears, - And on the dumb shades language spent-- - The music of her tears. - - HENRY VAUGHAN - - - "THE TIME SA TRANQUIL IS AND STILL." (line 13) - - Clear had the day been from the dawn, - All chequered was the sky, - Thin clouds, like scarves of cobweb lawn, - Veiled heaven's most glorious eye. - - The wind had no more strength than this, - --That leisurely it blew-- - To make one leaf the next to kiss - That closely by it grew. - - The rills, that on the pebbles played, - Might now be heard at will; - This world the only music made, - Else everything was still.... - - MICHAEL DRAYTON - - - 153. "O FOR A BOOKE." - -Nor--says John Bunyan: - - Nor let them fall under Discouragement - Who at their Horn-book stick, and time hath spent - Upon (their) A, B, C while others do - Into their Primer, or their Psalter go. - Some boys with difficulty do begin - Who in the end, the Bays, and Lawrel win. - -On the other hand; - - Some Boys have Wit enough to sport and play, - Who at their Books are Block-heads day by day. - Some men are arch enough at any Vice, - But Dunces in the way to Paradice. - -So much for the reader, but the writer, too, may fall under -discouragement. Listen to Colum Cille, an Irish scribe of the eleventh -century, in yet another translation from the Gaelic: - - My hand is weary with writing, - My sharp quill is not steady, - My slender-beaked pen pours forth - A black draught of shining dark-blue ink. - - A stream of the wisdom of blessed God - Springs from my fair-brown shapely hand; - On the page it squirts its draught - Of ink of the green-skinned holly. - - My little dripping pen travels - Across the plain of shining books, - Without ceasing for the wealth of the great-- - Whence my hand is weary with writing. - -But to come back to the reader in his shadie nooke: - - Tales of my Nursery! shall that still loved spot, - That window corner, ever be forgot, - Where through the woodbine--when with upward ray - Gleamed the last shadow of departing day-- - Still did I sit, and with unwearied eye, - Read while I wept, and scarcely paused to sigh! - In that gay drawer, with fairy fictions stored, - When some new tale was added to my hoard, - While o'er each page my eager glance was flung, - 'Twas but to learn what female fate was sung; - If no sad maid the castle shut from light, - I heeded not the giant and the knight. - Sweet Cinderella, even before the ball, - How did I love thee--ashes, rags, and all! - What bliss I deemed it to have stood beside, - On every virgin when thy shoe was tried! - How longed to see thy shape the slipper suit! - But, dearer than the slipper, loved the foot. - -As for "_the streete cryes all about_": according to _London -Lickpenny_, among the street-cries in the fifteenth century were: Hot -Pease! Hot Fine Oatcakes! Whitings maids, Whitings! Have you any old -boots? Buy a mat! New Brooms, green brooms! with a general hullabaloo -of What d'ye lack? and now and again a bawling of Clubs! to summon the -tag, rag, and bobtail to a row. - -Of singing cries, we may still hear in the sunny summer London streets -such sweet and doleful strains as Won't you buy my sweet blooming -lavender: Sixteen branches a penny! and in the dusks of November the -muffin-man's bell. Besides these, we have Rag-a'-bone! Milk-o! Any -scissors to grind? Clo' props! Water-creeses! and, as I remember years -ago, - - Young lambs to sell, white lambs to sell; - If I'd as much money as I could tell - I wouldn't be crying, Young lambs to sell! - - - 155. "WITH HEY! WITH HOW! WITH HOY." - -In _Rustic Speech and Folk Lore_ Mrs. Wright gives the decoys with -which the country people all over England beguile their beasts and -poultry into "shippon, sty, or pen"; or holla them on their way, but -much, I have found, depends on him who hollas! - - For _Cows_: Coop! Cush, cush!--while the milkmaid calls--Hoaf! - Hobe! Mull! Proo! Proochy! Prut! - - For _Calves_: Moddie! Mog, mog, mog! Pui-ho! Sook, sook! - - For _Sheep_: Co-hobe! Ovey! - - For _Pigs_: Check-check! Cheat! Dack, dack! Giss! or Gissy! - Lix! Ric-sic! Shug, shug, shug! Tantassa, tantassa pig, tow a - row, a row! Tig, tig, tig! - - For _Turkeys_: Cobbler! Peet, peet, peet! Pen! Pur, pur, pur! - - For _Geese_: Fly-laig! Gag, gag, gag! Ob-ee! White-hoddy! - - For _Ducks_: Bid, bid, bid! Diddle! Dill, dill! Wid! Wheetie! - - For _Pigeons_: Pees! Pod! - - And for _Rabbits_: Map! - -"Yea, and I do vow unto thee," said the voice of the beautiful virgin -speaking out of the rock; "Call unto them but in their own names and -language, and the strong and delicate creatures of the countries of -the mind will flock into the living field of thy vision, and above the -waters will befall the secret singing of birds, and thou shalt be a -pilgrim. Mark how intense a shadow dwells upon this stone! Therein too -lurk marvels to be seen." The voice ceased, and I heard nothing but the -tapping of a fragment of dry lichen which in the draught of the hot air -caused by the burning sunlight stirred between rock and sand. And I -cried, "O unfortunate one, I thirst!" - - - 156. "LAVENDER'S BLUE." - -"A poor thing," as Audrey says, but homely and melodious and once -_some_body's own: such a somebody as inscribed on the walls of Burford -Church: - - "... Love made me Poet - And this I writt, - My harte did do yt - And not my witt." - - - 159. "THERE IS A GARDEN IN HER FACE." - -Thomas Campion was "borne upon Ash Weddensday being the twelft day of -February. An. Rg. Eliz. nono"--1567. He had one sister, Rose. He was -educated at Peterhouse, Cambridge, and this was his yearly allowance -of clothes: A gowne, a cap, a hat, ii dubletes, ii payres of hose, -iiii payres of netherstockes, vi payre of shoes, ii shirts, and two -bandes. He was allowed also one quire of paper every quarter; and half -a pound of candles every fortnight from Michaelmas to Lady Day. He -studied law, may for a time have fought as a soldier in France, and -became a physician. He died on March 1, 1620, and was buried on the -same day at St. Dunstan's in the West, Fleet Street, the entry in the -register under that date being: "Thomas Campion, doctor of Phisicke, -was buried." - -I have taken these particulars from Mr. S. P. Vivian's edition of -his poems, because it is pleasant to share even this little of what -is known of a man who is not only a rare and true poet--though for -two centuries a forgotten one--but also because he was one of the -chief song-writers in the great age of English Music. Like all -good craftsmen, he did his work "well, surely, cleanly, workmanly, -substantially, curiously, and sufficiently," as did the glaziers of -King's College Chapel, which is distant but a kingfisher's flight over -a strip of lovely water from his own serene Peterhouse. It seems a -little curious that being himself a lover of music he should have at -first disliked rhymes in verse, though he lived to write such delicate -rhymed poems as this. - -In the preface to his _Book of Ayres_, he tells the secret of his -craft: "In these English Ayres," he says, "I have chiefely aymed to -couple my Words and Notes _lovingly_ together, which will be much for -him to doe that hath not power over both." - - - 160. "WHAT IS THERE HID IN THE HEART OF A ROSE?" - -There is a legend in _Sir John Mandeville's Travels_, which in our -spelling runs thus: "Bethlehem is a little city, long and narrow and -well walled, and on each side enclosed with good ditches. It was wont -to be called Ephrata.... And toward the east end of the city is a full -fair church and a gracious, and it hath many towers, pinnacles, and -corners, full strong, and curiously made; and within that church be -forty-four pillars of marble, massive and fair. - -"And between the city and the church is the field _Floridus_, that is -to say, the 'Field of Flowers'; it being so named for this reason: A -fair maiden was blamed with wrong and slandered ... for which cause she -was demned to death and to be burnt in that place, to the which she was -led. And, as the fire began to crackle about her, she made her prayers -to our Lord,--that, as assuredly as she was not guilty of that sin, -He would help her and make it to be known to all men, of His merciful -grace. And when she had thus said, she entered into the fire, and anon -was the fire quenched and out; and the brands that were burning became -red rose-trees, and the brands that were not kindled became white -rose-trees, full of roses. And these were the first rose-trees and -roses, both white and red, that ever any man saw; and thus was this -maiden saved by the grace of God. And therefore is that field clept the -field of God, _Floridus_, for it is full of roses." - - - 163. "THESE FLOWERS, AS IN THEIR CAUSES, SLEEP." - - (line 4) - ---while, also, flowers may themselves be the _causes_ of poems, as, in -a degree, a dewdrop in a buttercup is of the buttercup's causing. There -the rhodora, or rhododendron: - - In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, - I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, - Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, - To please the desert and the sluggish brook. - The purple petals, fallen in the pool, - Made the black water with their beauty gay; - Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool, - And court the flower that cheapens his array. - Rhodora! Let the sages ask thee why - This charm is wasted on the earth and sky ... - Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! - I never thought to ask, I never knew; - But, in my simple ignorance, suppose - The self-same Power that brought me there brought you.... - - R. W. EMERSON - -And here anemone and cyclamen--in an enchanting little poem of but the -day before yesterday: - - Long ago I went to Rome - As pilgrims go in Spring, - Journeying through the happy hills - Where nightingales sing, - And where the blue anemones - Drift among the pines - Until the woods creep down into - A wilderness of vines. - - Now every year I go to Rome - As lovers go in dreams, - To pick the fragrant cyclamen - To bathe in Sabine streams, - And come at nightfall to the city - Across the shadowy plain, - And hear through all the dusty streets - The waterfalls again. - - MARGARET CECILIA FURSE - - - "THE PHOENIX BUILDS HER SPICY NEST." (line 18) - -The Phoenix, in faith rather than by sight, is thus described by -Pliny: "She is as big as an eagle, in colour yellow, and bright as -gold, namely all about the neck, the rest of the bodie a deepe red -purple; the taile azure blue, intermingled with feathers among of -rose carnation colour: and the head bravely adorned with a crest and -pennache finely wrought, having a tuft and plume thereupon right faire -and goodly to be seene." - -Her life is but three hundred and nine years less in duration than -that of the many-centuried patriarch Methuselah. When the lassitude -of age begins to creep upon her, she wings across sea and land to the -sole Arabian Tree. There she builds a nest of aromatic twigs, cassia -and frankincense, and enkindling it with her own dying ardour she is -consumed to ashes. And yet--while still they are of a heat beyond the -tempering of the sun that shines down on them from the heavens, they -magically stir, take body and awaken; and she rearises to life renewed, -in her gold, her rose carnation, her purple and azure blue. - - - 164. "THE BOWER OF BLISS." - -This and No. 348 are but the merest fragments of the _Faerie Queene_; -but they show of what an echoing mutable music are its words. And -were ever light and colour so living, natural and crystal clear? -Reading this verse, hearing its sounds and seeing its sights in the -imagination, you cannot think Thomas Nash was too fantastical when he -wrote: "Poetry is the Honey of all Flowers, the Quintessence of all -Sciences, the Marrow of Art and the very Phrase of Angels." Indeed, as -Spenser's epitaph in Westminster Abbey says of him, he was the Prince -of Poets of his time, whose divine spirit needs no other witness than -the works which he left behind him. And poet of poets he has always -remained. John Keats, when he was a boy, used to sit in a little -summerhouse at Enfield with his schoolfellow Cowden Clarke, simply -drinking in this verse, and laying up store of purest English for his -own brief life's matchless work. So, too, Abraham Cowley: - -"How this love (for poetry) came to be produced in me so early is a -hard question. I believe I can tell the particular little chance that -filled my head first with such chimes of verse as have never since left -ringing there. For I remember when I began to read, and to take some -pleasure in it, there was wont to lie in my mother's parlour (I know -not by what accident, for she herself never in her life read any book -but of devotion), but there was wont to lie Spenser's works; this I -happened to fall upon, and was infinitely delighted with the stories -of the knights and giants and monsters and brave houses which I found -everywhere there (though my understanding had little to do with all -this); and by degrees with the tinkling of the rhyme and dance of the -numbers, so that I think I had read him all over before I was twelve -years old...." - - - 170. - -The poems of Robert Herrick and of Thomas Campion though known well in -their own day remained for many years practically unread and forgotten. -Thomas Traherne's (who died in 1674) had an even more curious fate, -for they were discovered in manuscript and by chance on a bookstall so -lately as 1896, and were first taken to be the work of Henry Vaughan. -Here is a passage in prose from _Centuries of Meditation_, by the same -writer, repeating this reverie of his childhood in other words: "The -corn was orient and immortal wheat which never should be reaped nor -was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. -The dust and stones of the street were as precious as gold; the gates -were at first the end of the world. The green trees when I saw them -first through one of the gates transported and ravished me; their -sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to leap, and almost mad -with ecstasy, they were such strange and wonderful things. The men! -oh, what venerable and reverend creatures did the aged seem! Immortal -cherubims! And young men glittering and sparkling angels! and maids -strange seraphic pieces of life and beauty! Boys and girls tumbling in -the street were moving jewels: I knew not that they were born or should -die. But all things abided eternally as they were in their proper -places. Eternity was manifest in the light of the day, and something -infinite behind everything appeared, which talked with my expectation -and moved my desire...." - - - 172. "BUT SILLY WE." (line 9) - -This poem, I think carries with it the thought that in study of that -great book, that fair volume, called the World, there is no full -stop, no limit, pause, conclusion. Like bees, with their nectar and -honeycomb, man stores up his knowledge and experience in books. These -and his houses outlast him; the things he makes; and here and there a -famous or happy or tragic name is for a while remembered. Else, we have -our Spring and Summer--and dark cold skies enough, many of us--then -vanish away, seeming but restless phantoms in Time's enormous dream. So -far at least as this world is concerned. And generations of men--as of -the grasses and flowers--follow one upon the other. - - Oh, yes, my dear, you have a Mother, - And she, when young, was loved by another, - And in that mother's nursery - Played _her_ mamma, like you and me. - When that mamma was tiny as you - She had a happy mother too: - On, on ... Yes, presto! Puff! Pee-fee!-- - And Grandam Eve and the apple-tree. - - O, into distance, smalling, dimming, - Think of that endless row of women, - Like beads, like posts, like lamps, they seem-- - Grey-green willows, and life a stream-- - Laughing and sighing and lovely; and, Oh, - You to be next in that long row! - -And yet, "But silly we" is true of most of us and of most of our time -on earth. As Coventry Patmore says: - - An idle Poet, here and there, - Looks round him, but, for all the rest, - The world, unfathomably fair, - Is duller than a witling's jest. - Love wakes men, once a life-time each; - They lift their heavy lids, and look; - And, lo, what one sweet page can teach - They read with joy, then shut the book: - And some give thanks, and some blaspheme, - And most forget; but, either way, - That and the Child's unheeded dream - Is all the light of all their day. - -Or again, in the words of Sir John Davies--long since dead: - - ... I know my Soul hath power to know all things, - Yet is she blind and ignorant in all: - I know I am one of Nature's little kings, - Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall. - I know my life's a pain and but a span, - I know my sense is mocked with everything; - And, to conclude, I know myself a man - Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing. - - - 175. "FOR SOLDIERS" - -from an old book entitled, "A Posie of Gilloflowers, eche differing -from other in Colour and Odour, yet all sweete." There were pretty -and sonorous names for collections of poems in the days of Humfrey -Gifford (of whom nothing is known but that he made this Posie)--such as -_Wits Commonwealth_; _The Banket of Sapience_; _The Paradise of Dainty -Devices_; _A Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions_; and _A Handfull -of Pleasant Delights_. - - - "YE BUDS OF BRUTUS LAND" - -sons of those, that is, who, according to the ancient myth were -descended from Brut or Brute, the Trojan, the conqueror of Albion and -its giants, the founder of London, after whom the land is named Britain. - - - "SOLDIERS ARE PREST" (stanza I) - -that is, seized by the King's men, the press-gangs, and carried away by -force to fight in the wars. - - - "YOUR QUEEN." - -"To the Most High, Mightie and Magnificent Empresse Renowmed for -Pietie, Vertue, and all Gratious Government ELIZABETH by the -Grace of God Queene of England Fraunce and Ireland and of Virginia." -So runs Spenser's dedication of "The Faerie Queene," while in "The -Shepheardes Calender" for April, are the lines: - - See, where she sits upon the grassie greene, - (O seemely sight) - Yclad in Scarlot like a mayden Queene, - And Ermines white. - Upon her head a Cremosin coronet, - With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set: - Bayleaves betweene, - And Primroses greene - Embellish the sweete Violet. - -In "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Oberon tells Puck how he saw that -"Faire Vestall" in danger of Love's sharp arrows--and "The Imperiall -Votresse passèd on In maiden meditation, fancy free." But Shakespeare, -if actually invited to Court, it is said, "was in paine." - - - 176. "THE BATTLE-HYMN." - -The writer of this magnificent Battle-Hymn died in 1910, at the age -of ninety-one. If Henry Carey, who wrote our own "National Anthem," -had realised how much and how often _his_ fellow countrymen were to -be fated to use his words, he would perhaps have taken a little more -trouble with them (as much, at any rate, as Shelley and Flecker took -in _their_ versions of it), and would have found a pleasanter rhyme -than "over us" for "glorious," and than "voice" for "cause." If, on the -other hand, he had read the following _Grace_ which Ben Jonson made at -the moment's call before King James, he might perhaps have refrained -from rhyming altogether, and so, by sheer modesty, would have missed -being immortalized: - - Our King and Queen the Lord God Blesse, - The Paltzgrave, and the Lady Besse. - And God blesse every living thing - That lives, and breathes, and loves the King. - God bless the Counsell of Estate, - And Buckingham the fortunate. - God blesse them all, and keep them safe, - And God blesse me, and God blesse Raph. - -"The king," says John Aubrey, "was mighty enquisitive to know who -this Raph was. Ben told him 'twas the drawer at the _Swanne_ taverne, -by Charing-crosse, who drew him good Canarie. For this drollery his -majestie gave Ben an hundred poundes.... - - - 177. - -"To those," it is said, "who have resided a long time by the falls -of Niagara, the lowest whisper is distinctly audible." Their hearing -accustoms itself to that unending and enormous roar, and becomes more -exquisite. This is untrue of those whose finer sense is lulled by the -roar of war: they become deafened, and cannot hear the voice of the one -soldier--of which human "ones" every army is composed. And so war may -poison even when its intention and its cause are honour and faith. In -this particular poem (No. 177), the soldier is one of those who fought -in the Transvaal in the years 1899-1901. - - - 180. - -Rupert Brooke, Wilfred Owen, Edward Thomas, Julian Grenfell, Charles -Sorley, Francis Ledwidge, Alan Seeger, Joyce Kilmer--these are the -names of but a few of the men, none of them old, many of them in the -heyday of their gifts and genius, who besides proving themselves -soldiers in the Great War had also proved themselves poets. Within his -powers, every true poet lives in his country's service. These in that -service died. - -"... Old stairs wind upwards to a long corridor, the distant ends of -which are unseen. A few candles gutter in the draughts. The shadows -leap. The place is so still that I can hear the antique timbers -talking. But something is without which is not the noise of the wind. I -listen, and hear it again, the darkness throbbing; the badly adjusted -horizon of outer night thudding on the earth--the incessant guns of the -great war. - -And I come, for this night at least, to my room. On the wall is a tiny -silver Christ on a crucifix; and above that the portrait of a child, -who fixes me in the surprise of innocence, questioning and loveable, -the very look of warm April and timid but confiding light. I sleep with -the knowledge of that over me, an assurance greater than that of all -the guns of all the hosts. It is a promise. I may wake to the earth I -used to know in the morning." - - H. M. TOMLINSON - - - 184. - -The reader may speculate how it is that while room has been found here -for this entrancing rhyme, none has been made for Macaulay's longer -Lays, Browning's Cavalier Songs, and a host of poems equally gallant -and spirited. Perhaps he will forgive their absence if he will consider -what is said on page xxxiii, and if he will also remember that every -chooser must make his choice. - -There is, too, the story of the Woodcutter's son. This fuzzheaded -boy, called Dick or Dickon, while playing on his elder pipe the -tune of "Over the Hills" one dappled sunshine morning in the woods, -fortuning to squinny his eye sidelong over his pipe, perceived a -crooked and dwarf old man to be standing beside him where before was -only a solitary bearded thistle. This old man, the twist of whose -countenance showed him to be one with an ear for woodland music, -invited the Woodcutter's son to descend with him into the orchards -of the Gnomes--and to help himself. This he did, and marvellously he -fared. On turning out his pockets that night--the next day being a -Sunday--his Mother found (apart from the wondrous smouldering heap of -fruits, amethyst, emerald, rubies and the topaz, which he had given -her) two or three strange unpolished stones, and these also from the -Old Man's orchards. And she climbed up with her candle, he being abed, -and asked him why he had burdened himself with such things of little -seeming value, when he might have carried off their weight in diamonds -big as dumplings. "Well, you see, mother dear," he drowsily replied, "I -chose of the best and brightest till my eyes dazzled; and then there -was a bird that called, Dick! Dick! Dick! Dick! and those magic pebbles -were among her eggs." - - - 185. "WE BE THE KING'S MEN." - -The Song of Soldiers from Act I., Scene I., Part i. of that mighty -play, _The Dynasts_. "The time is a fine day in March, 1805. A highway -crosses the ridge, which is near the sea, and the south coast is seen -bounding the landscape below, the open Channel extending beyond." - - - 186. BUDMOUTH DEARS - ---from _The Dynasts_, Act II., Scene I., Part iii.--the song sung in -Camp on the Plain of Vittoria by Sergeant Young (of Sturminster Newton) -of the Fifteenth (King's) Hussars on the eve of the longest day in the -year 1813 and of Wellington's victory. - - - 187. "TRAFALGAR" - ---from _The Dynasts_, Act V., Scene VII., Part i. Boatmen and burghers -with their pipes and mugs are sitting on settles round the fire in -the taproom of the _Old Rooms_ Inn at Weymouth. The body of Nelson on -board his battered _Victory_ has lately been brought to England to be -sepulchred in St. Paul's. And this is the Song the Second Boatman sings. - -The "Nothe," line 8, is the promontory that divides for Weymouth, where -lived Nelson's Captain Hardy, its harbour or back-sea on the north, -and the Portland Roads, its front-sea on the south "Roads," meaning -protected seas where ships may _ride_ at anchor. On this tempestuous -and fateful night, October 21, 1805, the breakers were sweeping clean -across the spit of land called the Narrows. On the further side runs -for a round ten miles that enormous wall of pebbles--Chesil Beach, -whose stones the tides sort out so precisely--the least in size towards -Lyme Regis--that a coast-man can tell even in a thick mist where he -has landed on the beach, merely by measuring them with his eye. About -ten miles up this water swim in Spring the swans of the Swannery of -Abbotsbury with their cygnets, each mother-bird striving to decoy as -many strange young ones into her train as she can. So deals a proud and -powerful nation with the lesser kingdoms of the earth. - -About four years and a half before Trafalgar, on April 2nd, 1801, -Nelson and Parker had won the Battle of the Baltic--as Thomas Campbell -(who was then twenty-four), in his well-known poem tells: - - ... Like leviathans afloat - Lay their bulwarks on the brine; - While the sign of battle flew - On the lofty British line: - It was ten of April morn by the chime: - As they drifted on their path, - There was silence deep as death; - And the boldest held his breath, - For a time.... - -So accustomed, indeed, are we mere landsmen to the exploits of the Navy -on the High Seas that we easily forget it was once to our forefathers -a novelty and a wonder--such a wonder as might be compared with the -fabulous Castles in Spain or the Gardens of Babylon, as the old -nameless poet of the following lines recounts: - - Cease now the talke of wonders! nothing rare - Of floateing ilandes, castles in the aire! - Of wooden walls, graves walkeing, flieing steedes, - Or Trojan horse! The present truth exceeds - Those ancient fables; floating iles great store, - Sent from the British Ile, now guard her shore, - And castles strong without foundation stande - More safe on waters pavement then on lande.... - - - 189. "BRAVE SAILORS." - -And here is one of them--come home to his sweetheart, and she (until -stanza 6) not recognizing him: - - As I walked out one night, it being dark all over, - The moon did show no light I could discover, - Down by a river side where ships were sailing, - A lonely maid I spied, weeping and bewailing. - - I boldly stept up to her, and asked her what grieved her, - She made me this reply, "None could relieve her, - For my love is pressed, she cried, to cross the ocean, - My mind is like the Sea, always in motion." - - He said, "My pretty fair maid, mark well my story, - For your true love and I fought for England's glory, - By one unlucky shot we both got parted, - And by the wounds he got, I'm broken hearted. - - "He told me before he died his heart was broken, - He gave me this gold ring, take it for a token,-- - 'Take this unto my dear, there is no fairer, - Tell her to be kind and love the bearer.'" - - Soon as these words he spoke she ran distracted, - Not knowing what she did, nor how she acted, - She run ashore, her hair showing her anger, - "Young man, you've come too late, for I'll wed no stranger." - - Soon as these words she spoke, her love grew stronger. - He flew into her arms, he could wait no longer, - They both sat down and sung, but she sung clearest, - Like a Nightingale in spring, "Welcome home, my dearest." - - He sang, "God bless the wind that blew him over." - She sang, "God bless the ship that brought him over," - They both sat down and sung, but she sung clearest, - Like a Nightingale in spring, "Welcome home, my dearest." - -To get any rhythm into this doggerel is like persuading a donkey to -gallop. And yet how clearly one sees the dark night, the disguised -sailor and his sweetheart talking together on the river strand, and the -ships on its bosom in the gloom; while the wistful, deceitful tale he -tells her is as old as Romance. Once get cantering, too; how pleasing -is the motion! - - - 192. "DARK ROSALEEN." - -From his childhood, which was spent in a little shop in Dublin, Mangan -had a dark and troubled life. But always a passionate love for his -country, Ireland--his Dark Rosaleen--burned on in his imagination as it -is revealed in the wild and haunting music of this poem. - - - 197. - -There are so many words in this poem strange to an English ear that it -seems better to explain them here so as not to interrupt the actual -reading of it too much. After all, the little that is not plain speaks -in its music, and that is a very large part of what we call its -"meaning." For the meaning of a poem is _all_ the interest, thought, -pictures, music, and happiness that we can get out of it--it is all -that it _does_ to us. - -Stanza (1) "loaning" is a green path in the fields, and "ilka" means -every; "wede" means faded or vanished. (2) "bught" is a sheepfold; -"scorning" I suppose means cracking jokes at one another; "dowie" means -sad and drooping; "daffing" and "gabbing" is larking and gossiping; -a "leglin" is a milkpail. (3) "hairst" means harvest; "bandsters," -sheaf-binders; "lyart" is faded with age; "runkled" wrinkled; -"fleeching" is wheedling or coaxing or flirting. (4) "swankies" means -the blithe lads of stanza 2; "bogle" means goblin or bogey--an evening -game like "I spy," I should think. (5) "Dool and wae" means sorrow or -grief and woe. - - - 199. - -Robert Hayman, a Merchant of Bristol at the age of twenty-five, was -a nephew of Sir Walter Raleigh's. He became Governor of a Plantation -called _The British Hope_ in Newfoundland. In 1628 he settled in Guiana -(of whose gilded and barbaric Amazonian princesses his uncle tells in -Hakluyt's _Voyages_). He made his will in 1633, and nothing more was -afterwards heard of him--at least by the people of Bristol. - -Poetry shines out of his stumbling verses like the setting sun through -a thicket of thorns. Their "Totnes" is an uncommonly old town, mainly -consisting of that "long street" where, when a boy, he met "godly -Drake." At its East-Gate is the Brutus-stone--for here Brut of Troy -is said first to have trodden English soil, having landed from the -Dart. Twenty miles distant to westward of the town lies on its rivers -Plymouth--the Spaniards' wasps' nest--its Drake in stone now gazing out -to sea from its Hoe. Twenty miles to the east on the coast is Hayes -Barton, where Raleigh was born about 1552. And seven miles down the -Dart is the village of Greenway, the home of his half-brother Sir -Humphrey Gilbert, the discoverer of Newfoundland, who was in that year -a boy of about sixteen. Here amid-stream juts up the Anchor Rock upon -which, runs the story, the discoverer of tobacco and of the potato used -to sit and smoke his pipe. In 1587 Gilbert and Raleigh sailed together -in search of the as yet Unfoundland, but on that voyage in vain. - - - 200. "FOR HALLY NOW IS DEAD." - -Hally was Henry, Prince of Wales, the eldest son of James I., Queen -Elizabeth's godson, and a beloved patron of the arts and poetry to whom -Sir Walter Raleigh looked for happy favours. He was little of body and -quick of spirit, and, like Alexander, delighted "to witch the World -with noble horsemanship." He died when he was nineteen. In Windsor -Castle may be seen a suit of armour made for this young prince when he -was a boy--a suit which for grace and craftsmanship is said to be one -of the most beautiful things of its kind in the world. - - - 202. "HENRY BEFORE AGINCOURT." - -Here, again, the verse of this ancient fragment jolts, jars, and moves -cumbrously as a cannon over rocky ground. But how wide and moving a -picture it presents, and how noble is its utterance. - - - 203. "ALEXANDER THE GREAT." - -This is the translation of another ancient Irish poem made by Kuno -Meyer. Plutarch wrote Alexander's Life (comparing him with Julius -Caesar), in which the young prince is pictured as if by Velasquez. Here -are a few words from the translation of this life which Sir Thomas -North made from the French of Amiot: - -"The ambition and desire he (Alexander) had of honour showed a certain -greatness of mind and noble courage, passing his years.... For when -he was asked one day (because he was swift of foot) whether he would -assay to run for victory at the Olympian Games, 'I could be content' -(said he), 'so I might run with Kings'." When, too, "they brought him -news that his Father had taken some famous city, or had won some -great battle, he was nothing glad to hear it, but would say to his -playfellows: 'Sirs, my Father will have all: I shall have nothing left -me to conquer with you that shall be ought worth' ..." - - "Is it even so?" said my lady. - "Even so!" said my lord. - - - 205. "AND THE KINGS ASLEEP." - -... Not a stone-cast from the summit of the hill where all snow was now -parched and evaporated away, stood a cairn of boulders and thereon sate -three Eagles whose eyes surveyed the kingdoms of the world, its seas -and Man's lost possessions. And the Eagle that was eastwards of the -three, a little rimpled her wings and cried: "Where now? where now?" -And the Eagle that shook upon her plumes the dazzle of the dying sun -stretched out her corded neck and yelped: "Man! Man!" And the midmost -Eagle stooped low its golden head and champed between its talons with -its beak upon the boulder: "The Earth founders," she mewed. And a -stillness was upon the hill as though of a myriad watching eyes. - - 207. "DANCE SEDATELY" - ---and here are two old rhymes for the dancing to. One for a Morris -Dance: - - Skip it and trip it nimbly, nimbly, - Tickle it, tickle it lustily; - Strike up the tabour for the wenches' favour, - Tickle it, tickle it lustily. - - Let us be seene in Hygate Freene, - To dance for the honour of Holloway. - Since we are come hither, let us spare for no leather - To dance for the honour of Holloway. - -And this for a Flower Dance: - - Where's my lovely parsley, say? - My violets, roses, where are they? - My parsley, roses, violets fair, - Where are my flowers? Tell me where? - -And yet another for one's Lonesome Low: - - The king's young dochter was sitting in her window, - Sewing at her silken seam; - She lookt out o' the bow-window, - And she saw the leaves growing green, - My luve; - And she saw the leaves growing green. - - She stuck her needle into her sleeve, - Her seam down by her tae, - And she is awa' to the merrie greenwood, - To pu' the nit and the slae, - My luve; - To pu' the nit and the slae. - -The "dochter" is of course daughter, "nit" is nut, and "slae" sloe. - - - 209. - -Pause an instant on the fifth word in the third stanza and you can -actually _hear_ the birds laughing--yaffle, blackcap, bullfinch and -jay, and the droning and the whistling and the whir-r-r. - - - 210. FA LA LA. - -Scattered through this volume are many songs, a few of them--both -words and music--exceedingly ancient. Mr. Nahum had a cofferful of -old hand-written music (square crotchets and quavers and handsome -clefs); and many outlandish instruments were hung up in the dust and -silence in one of his cupboards. I remember some small living thing -set a string jangling when for the first time the door admitted me to -a sight of their queer shapes and appearances. In an old book of 1548, -_The Complaynt of Scotland_, there is a list of names, not only of old -folk-tales such as "The tayl of the wolfe of the varldes end"; and "The -tayl of the giantes that eit quyk men," but of songs and dances for -long in common love and knowledge even in those old times. Here are a -few of the songs: - - God You, Good Day, Wild Boy. - Broom, Broom on Hill. - Trolly lolly leman, dow. - All musing of Marvels, amiss have I gone. - O Mine Heart, hey, this is my Song. - Shall I go with You to Rumbelow Fair? - That Day, that Day, that Gentle Day. - Alas, that Samyn Sweet Face! - In are Mirthful Morrow. - -And here some Dances: - - All Christian Men's Dance. - Long Flat Foot of Garioch. - The Lamb's Wind. - Leaves Green. - The Bace of Voragon. - The Loch of Slene. - The Bee. - Shake a Trot, and - The Vod and the Val. - -The tunes to these were played at that day on four kinds of bagpipe -(including a drone bagpipe), a trump, a recorder, a "fiddell," and a -"quhissil"--which is the pleasantest way of spelling _whistle_ I have -yet seen. The melodies and words of most of them are, apparently, all -now clean forgotten. - -"Fa la la" (No. 210) is of a different kind, being one of hundreds -of madrigals, "ayres" and ballets of which both the words and the -music were written in England in the first twenty years or so of the -seventeenth century. There is, of course, a hoard of learning that one -may study on this English music--William Byrd's, John Dowland's, Thomas -Ford's, Thomas Campion's, John Bartlet's, Philip Rosseter's, Robert -Ayres' and others--which in its own day was as famous in the countries -of Europe as English poetry is now. It was the coming of foreign music -and musicians to England--the Italians and Handel and Mendelssohn--that -put it ungratefully out of mind. To-day its dust has at last been -brushed away. The Madrigals are being printed and sung again, and Dr. -Fellowes has lately published a volume containing the words of hundreds -of such lively, nimble and heart-entrancing rhymes--intended by their -writers to carry with them a double charm--not only their own verbal -melody, grace and beauty, but also their music's. - -My own knowledge is scanty indeed, but I gather that a madrigal -is intended to be sung, unaccompanied with instruments, by voices -only--three to five, six, or seven, it may be, and men's and women's or -boys', coursing, echoing, interweaving, responding and rilling together -like the countless runnels and wavelets of a brook over its stones, or -a wood full of singing birds at evening. An Ayre is different. It is -for the voice--singing its melody to the accompaniment of lute, viol -or virginal, as a nightingale may sing at dusk above the murmur of a -softly-brawling brook. A Ballet, the most ancient of all three, went -hand in hand and foot to foot with a dance. - -All I wish to make clear is that the printed words of Nos. 210 and -212, for instance, can give only a fraction of the pleasure their -poets intended, who in writing had always the singing voice and often -the twangling string in mind. Their very age to my fancy gives them -an enticing strangeness, grace, and freshness. For in their company -the imagination returns to the days when first they rang out in the -taverns and parlours and palaces and streets of a London that from -every steeple and tower was within sight of green fields; a noble city -of but about three hundred thousand people (including children) wherein -you might any day find William Shakespeare, Ben Johnson, Chapman and -the rest talking together in its taverns, the _Mermaid_ or the _Triple -Tun_, while that ill-fortuned traveller and statesman, Sir Walter -Raleigh, fallen upon evil days, sat mewed up in the Tower of London, -engrossed in his _History of the World_. - -None the less there are human beings who remain deaf to the magic both -of words and music--that, like the deaf adder, _stop_ their ears: "I -know very well," wrote Sir William Temple, "that many who pretend to -be wise by the forms of being grave, are apt to despise both poetry -and music as toys and trifles too light for the use or entertainment -of serious men. But whoever find themselves wholly insensible to these -charms, would I think do well to keep their own counsel, for ... -while this world lasts, I doubt most but the pleasure and requests of -these two entertainments will do so too; and happy those that content -themselves with these, or any other so easy and so innocent; and do -not trouble the world or other men, because they cannot be quiet -themselves, though nobody hurts them! - -"When all is done, human life is at the greatest and the best but like -a froward child, that must be played with and humoured a little to keep -it quiet till it falls asleep, and then the care is over." - - - 211. "THE ONELY PRETTY RING TIME." - - "Amo, amas, - I love a lass, - As cedar tall and slender; - Sweet cowslip's face - Is her nominative case, - And she's of the feminine gender. - Horum quorum, - Sunt divorum, - Harum, scarum, Divo; - Tag rag, merry derry, periwig and hatband, - Hic--hoc--hârum, genitivo." - - JOHN O'KEEFE - - There was a mayde come out of Kent, - Deintie love, deintie love; - There was a mayde cam out of Kent, - Daungerous be: - There was a mayde cam out of Kent, - Fáyre, propre, small and gent, - As ever upon the grounde went, - For so should it be. - - "When you speake (Sweet) - I'ld have you do it ever. When you sing, - I'ld have you buy and sell so: so give Almes, - Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres, - To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you - Nothing but that: move still, still so: - And owne no other function.... - My prettiest Perdita." - - _The Winter's Tale._ - - "Such pretie things would soon be gon - If we should not so them remembre." - - - 212. - -There _might_ be an instant's check or faltering at the eighth line, -but make it "when the WINDS BLOW and the SEAS FLOW"--the great flood of -air and water banking up as it were into the words as does the Atlantic -in a gale at the Spring Equinox--and all's well. - - - 213. "AND THE FLEAS THAT TEASE IN THE HIGH PYRENEES." - -"The flee is a lyttell worme, and greveth men mooste; and scapeth and -voideth peril with lepynge and not with runnynge, and wexeth slowe and -fayleth in colde tyme, and in somer tyme it wexeth quiver and swyft; -and spareth not kynges." - - - 214. "I LOVED A LASS." - -George Wither, says Aubrey, could make verses as fast as he could write -them. So, too, could Shakespeare. "What he thought," said his editors, -"he uttered with that easinesse that we have scarse received from him a -blot in his papers." - -Still:--"So, So-a! fair and softly!" said the old Shropshire farmer to -Job his plough-horse when he kicked up his heels as if to break into a -gallop; "So, So-a! When thou'rt a racer, my dear, or born a high-blood -Arab, there'll be time enough for that. _Some goes their best slow._" - -If the lass's "fives" in the fourth stanza (of 214) were the fives -of to-day she must have had a quite comfortable foot, a size or two -larger, at any rate, than the bride's in Sir John Suckling's _Ballad -upon a Wedding_: - - ... Her feet beneath her petticoat - Like little mice stole in and out, - As if they feared the light; - But oh, she dances such a way! - No sun upon an Easter-day - Is half so fine a sight. - - Her cheeks so rare a white was on, - No daisy makes comparison; - Who sees them is undone; - For streaks of red were mingled there, - Such as are on a Catharine pear, - The side that's next the sun. - - Her lips were red; and one was thin - Compared to that was next her chin - (Some bee had stung it newly); - But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, - I durst no more upon them gaze, - Than on the sun in Júly.... - - - 218. "AND ST. JOHN'S BELL RINGS FOR MATINS." - -June 24 is not only the birthday of St. John the Baptist, but also the -year's Sun Day, for about this day, following through the night but -a little way beneath the horizon, he rises at dawn furthest North of -East in his annual journey (see p. xiv). As once on May-day so it was -then formerly the custom, all England over, to set bonfires blazing -on the hilltops, around which the country people danced and sang. The -dairy-maid who had the breath, and was fleet enough of foot to ring -around, between dusk and daybreak, nine such merry bonfires before they -were burnt out, assured her heart of a happy marriage within the year. - - - 219. "O IT'S DABBLING IN THE DEW MAKES THE MILKMAIDS FAIR!" - - The aïr to gi'e your cheäks a hue - O' rwosy red, so feaïr to view, - Is what do sheäke the grass-bleädes grae - At breäk o' dae, in mornén dew; - Vor vo'k that will be rathe abrode, - Will meet wi' health upon their road. - - But biden up till dead o' night, - When han's o' clocks do stan' upright, - By candle-light, do soon consume - The feäce's bloom, an' turn it white. - An' moon-beäms cast vrom midnight skies - Do blunt the sparklen ov the eyes. - - Vor health do weäke vrom nightly dreams - Below the mornen's eärly beams, - An' leäve the dead-aïr'd houses' eaves, - Vor quiv'ren leaves, an' bubblen streams, - A-glitt'ren brightly to the view, - Below a sky o' cloudless blue. - - WILLIAM BARNES - -The words in this poem are spelt as they are spoken in the County -of Dorset. "Rathe" means early; and "below" beneath. There is a -half-secret rhyme in each fourth line. - - - 223. "MUSIC, WHEN SOFT VOICES DIE, VIBRATES IN THE MEMORY." - - There is sweet music here that softer falls - Than petals from blown roses on the grass, - Or night-dews on still waters between walls - Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; - Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, - Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes; - Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. - - TENNYSON - - - 224. "A BELL IN MOSCOW." (stanza 4) - -Of this I saw the picture in Thrae. It was named Czar Kolokol, and, -when cast, was of the weight of about twenty-six hundred heavy men. It -now stands clapperless on the ground with a breach in its metal side. -Through this breach the people go into its silence to pray. - - - 225. - -This "Country Rhime," with Nos. 121 and 434, is taken from _A Book -for Boys and Girls_, written by John Bunyan. It came out into the -world on May 12th, 1686, two years before Bunyan died on Snow Hill in -London; and two years after the publication of the Second Part of _The -Pilgrim's Progress_, "wherein is set forth the manner of the setting -out of Christian's Wife and Children, their dangerous journey, and safe -arrival at the Desired Country." - -When Bunyan was young he loved ringing the bells with the ringers in -the steeple of the village church of Elstow, where he was born, and -where his grandfather, Thomas Bonyon, was "a common baker of human -bread." - -All these "Homely rhimes" are followed in this particular _Book for -Boys and Girls_ by comparisons", as here: first the bells; then a -lesson about them. They are parables. But in Mr. Nahum's copying, many -of the lessons were omitted; perhaps because he preferred to think -out his own. Not that the poetry that is intended to teach, to praise -virtue, and to instil wisdom in the heart and mind of its readers is -any the less poetry for this reason. Nevertheless, _every_ beautiful -thing in this world--the hyssop in the wall and the cedar of Lebanon, -Solomon in all his glory and the ring on his finger, carries with it -joy and wonder of the life that is ours, and gratitude to the Maker of -all. And poets who, when writing, are too intent upon teaching, are apt -to forfeit their rarest poetry. - - - 232. - -Dorothy was William Wordsworth's only sister and his friend Coleridge's -close friend. What she squandered on these two poets--her self, her -talk, her imagination, her love--only they could tell. "She gave -me eyes, she gave me ears," once wrote her brother; she shared his -visionary happiness. With Coleridge she used to walk and talk so nearly -and dearly that again and again in her _Journal_ she uses all but the -very words--that "thin gray cloud," the line on Spring, or on the one -red leaf, for instance--which are so magically his own in _Christabel_ -(No. 345). - - - 233. "TO AUTUMN." - -I read this--perhaps the loveliest of John Keats's odes, many times -before I realised that the whole of it is addressed to the musing -apparition or phantasm of Autumn whom in its second stanza he describes -as if she were in image there before him. This, perhaps, was partly -because the poem is usually printed with a full stop after "clammy -cells," and partly because of my own stupidity. - -Thomas Hood, in his scarcely less beautiful Ode, sees Autumn first as -an old man: - - I saw old Autumn in the misty morn - Stand shadowless like Silence, listening - To silence, for no lonely bird would sing - Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, - Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn; - Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright - With tangled gossamer that fell by night, - Pearling his coronet of golden corn. - -And later, in his fourth stanza: - - The squirrel gloats on his accomplished hoard, - The ants have brimmed their garners with ripe grain, - And honey bees have stored - The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells; - The swallows all have winged across the main; - But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, - And sighs her tearful spells - Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. - Alone, alone, - Upon a mossy stone, - She sits and reckons up the dead and gone, - With the last leaves for a love-rosary, - Whilst all the withered world looks drearily, - Like a dim picture of the drownèd past - In the hushed mind's mysterious far away, - Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last - Into that distance, gray upon the gray.... - - - 237. "A FOOLISH THING." - - I thee advise - If thou be wise - To keep thy wit - Though it be small: - 'Tis rare to get. - And far to fet, - 'Twas ever yet - Dear'st ware of all. - - GEORGE TURBERVILLE - -"Far to fetch" it certainly is; but here is a little counsel to this -end from the old Irish _Instructions of King Cormac_ (of the ninth -century). Of Carbery I know no more, but doubtless there is much to -hear: - -"O Cormac, grandson of Conn," said Carbery, "what is the worst for the -body of man?" - -"Not hard to tell," said Cormac. "Sitting too long, lying too long, -long standing, lifting heavy things, exerting oneself beyond one's -strength, running too much, leaping too much, frequent falls, sleeping -with one's leg over the bed-rail, gazing at glowing embers, wax, -biestings [very new milk], new ale, bull-flesh, curdles, dry food, -bog-water, rising too early, cold, sun, hunger, drinking too much, -eating too much, sleeping too much, sinning too much, grief, running -up a height, shouting against the wind, drying oneself by a fire, -summer-dew, winter-dew, beating ashes, swimming on a full stomach, -sleeping on one's back, foolish romping." ... - -"O Cormac, grandson of Conn," said Carbery, "I desire to know how -I shall behave among the wise and the foolish, among friends and -strangers, among the old and the young, among the innocent and the -wicked." - -"Not hard to tell," said Cormac. - - "Be not too wise, nor too foolish, - Be not too conceited, nor too diffident, - Be not too haughty, nor too humble, - Be not too talkative, nor too silent, - Be not too hard, nor too feeble. - If you be too wise, men will expect too much of you; - If you be too foolish, you will be deceived; - If you be too conceited, you will be thought vexatious; - If you be too humble, you will be without honour; - If you be too talkative, you will not be heeded; - If you be too silent, you will not be regarded; - If you be too bard, you will be broken; - If you be too feeble, you will be crushed." - -But what the exact total of all these "too's" may be is a riddle only -the Higher Mathematics can solve. - - - "OUR PLAY IS DONE" - ---after which, in Elizabeth's day, "the characters (one or more) were -wont to kneel down upon the stage and to offer a solemn prayer for the -sovereign, or other patron": - -"My tongue is wearie; when my Legs are too, I will bid you good night; -and so kneele down before you: But (indeed) to pray for the Queene." - - _Henry IV._ - - - 245. "AH! WOULD 'TWERE SO." - - I know that all beneath the moon decays, - And what by mortals in this world is brought - In Time's great periods shall return to nought; - That fairest states have fatal nights and days; - - I know how all the Muse's heavenly lays, - With toil of spright which is so dearly bought, - As idle sounds, of few or none are sought; - And that nought lighter is than airy praise. - - I know frail beauty's like the purple flower, - To which one morn oft birth and death affords; - That love a jarring is of minds' accords, - Where sense and will invassall reason's power. - - Know what I list, this all can not me move, - But that--O me! I both must write and love! - - WILLIAM DRUMMOND - - - 246. "NO CRANE TALKS." (line 16) - - "I hear the crane, if I mistake not, cry - Who in the clouds forming the forked Y, - By the brave orders practized under her, - Instructeth souldiers in the art of war. - For when her troops of wandring cranes forsake - Frost-firmèd Strymon, and (in autumn) take - Truce with the northern dwarfs, to seek adventure - In southern climates for a milder winter; - A-front each band a forward captain flies, - Whose pointed bill cuts passage through the skies, - Two skilful sergeants keep the ranks aright, - And with their voyce hasten their tardy flight; - And when the honey of care-charming sleep - Sweetly begins through all their veines to creep - One keeps the watch, and ever carefull-most, - Walks many a round about the sleeping hoast, - Still holding in his claw a stony clod, - Whose fall may wake him if he hap to nod. - Another doth as much, a third, a fourth, - Untill, by turns the night be turnèd forth." - -So also, according to travellers, talk, argue in parliament, camp, and -keep watch the wandering tribes of the gaudy-dyed Baboons. - - - 249. - -If this poem is read softly, pausingly, without haste, the very words -will seem like snowflakes themselves, floating into the mind; and then, -the beauty and the wonder. - - - 251 - -Here again, as in music, there are rests in the second, fourth and -fifth lines of each stanza. Is there any magic to compare with that -still solemn unearthly radiance when the world is masked with snow; and -the very sparkling of the mind is like hoar-frost on the bark of a tree. - - - 253. "THE WILD WOODS." - -Allan Cunningham's in Scotland, and these--Mr. Robert Frost's--in -Vermont U.S.A.: - - Whose Woods these are I think I know, - His house is in the village though - He will not see my stopping here - To watch his woods fill up with snow. - - My little horse must think it queer, - To stop without a farmhouse near - Between the woods and frozen lake - The darkest evening of the year. - - He gives his harness bells a shake - To ask if there is some mistake, - The only other sounds the sweep - Of easy wind and downy flake. - - The woods are lovely dark and deep; - But I have promises to keep - And miles to go before I sleep: - And miles to go before I sleep. - - - 255. - -There may be a few small verbal puzzles in this fifteenth-century -carol--otherwise as clear, sharp and shining as a winter moon. - -_Kechoun_ is kitchen, and Stephen (who waited on the King at bed and -board) stepped out of it into the hall, "boar's head on hand." _Kyst_, -means cast; _eylet_, aileth; _wod_ is mad. So too _brede_, I fancy. -When the roasted capon or cock crowed in its dish, Herod, in wrath and -fear cried on his torturers, "by two and all by one" to rise up and -kill. - -In later times a clay or earthenware box made all of a piece, with -a slit in it, was carried by apprentices through the streets on St. -Stephen's day, for money. And never a Catholic missionary once sailed -for the Indies, Barbary, or the Islands of the Anthropophagites, but a -box was hung by the priests in the church for alms against his return. -From the former old custom comes our "Boxing Day." - -In the Isle of Man, however, the Christmas Box was called the Wren Box, -and for this reason: There dwelt of old a Lorelei, siren or sea-elf, -in the emerald green creeks and caves of a solitary precipitous -island. She was as lovely as she was cruel, and her shrill sweet voice -rose amid the roaring and soughing of the waves in her steep rocky -habitation as shines a poisonous flower in the dark of a forest. Thus -she would at daybreak enchant to their doom sailors following their -craft on the sea. Leaning to listen to this music creeping by them -on the waters, they drew in to her haunts. Of their bones were coral -made; while she lived on; sang on. She was hunted down at last in her -sea-grottoes by those who, like Ulysses, had stopped their ears against -her incantations. Brought finally to bay, her beauty and bright hair -suddenly dwindled and dimmed, and she escaped in the shape of--Jenny -Wren. Alas, for Jenny Wren! condemned ever after for the woes of this -siren to be pursued with sticks and stones by young loons, cullions and -Jerry Sneaks, on every St. Stephen's Day. As goes the rhyme: - - "Oh, where are you going?" says milder to melder; - "Oh, where are you going?" says the younger to the elder. - "Oh, I cannot tell," says Festel to Fose; - "We're going to the woods," says John the Red Nose. - "We're going to the woods," says John the Red Nose. - - "Oh, what will you do there?" says milder to melder; - "Oh, what will you do there?" says the younger to the elder. - "Oh, I do not know," says Festel to Fose; - "To shoot the cutty wren," says John the Red Nose. - "To shoot the cutty wren," says John the Red Nose. - - "Oh, what of her corpsums?" etc. etc., - -and a sinister company they look, especially "milder"! - - - 257. - - _Lullay, lullay, thou lytill child, - Sleep and be well still; - The King of bliss thy father is, - As it was his will._ - - The other night I saw a sight, - A mayd a cradle keep: - "Lullay," she sung, and said among, - "Lie still, my child, and sleep." - - "How should I sleep? I may not for weep, - So sore am I begone: - Sleep I would; I may not for cold, - And clothes have I none. - - "For Adam's guilt mankind is spilt - And that me rueth sore; - For Adam and Eve here shall I live - Thirty winter and more." - - - 258. "WELCOME TWELFTH DAY" - -and here is a rhyme (entitled Jolagiafir) for a memory-game they used -to play in old times on Twelfth Night after the bean or silver-penny -had been discovered in the Twelfth Cake, and the Wassail Bowl has gone -round with the Mince Pies. - - On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me - A partridge in a pear-tree. - - On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me - Two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear-tree. - - On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me - Three French hens, two turtle doves and - A partridge in a pear-tree. - -And so on to-- - - On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me - Twelve lords a-leaping, eleven ladies dancing, - Ten pipers piping, nine drummers drumming, - Eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, - Six geese a-laying, five gold rings, - Four colly birds, three French hens, - Two turtle doves, and - A partridge in a pear-tree. - -And here is a recipe for Lamb's Wool, with which to fill "the Bowl": -Take "the pulpe of rosted apples, in number four or five according to -the greatnesse of the apples (especially the pome water), and mix it -heartily in a wine quart of faire water"--or old ale--"with a due and -fair lacing of nutmegs, sugar and ginger"--until the company can wait -no longer. - -And here's another "Twelve"; from Scotland: - - What will be our twelve, boys? - What will be our twelve, boys? - Twelve's the Twelve Apostles; - Eleven's maidens in a dance; - Ten's the Ten Commandments; - Nine's the Muses o' Parnassus; - Eight's the table rangers; - Seven's the stars of heaven; - Six the echoing waters; - Five's the hymnlers o' my bower; - Four's the gospel-makers; - Three, three thrivers; - Twa's the lily and the rose, - That shine baith red and green, boys: - My only ane, she walks alane, - And evermair has dune, boys. - - - 259. - -It looks as if this carol--of Henry VI.'s reign--was once a singing -game: On the one side in the blaze of the Yule Log the Holly men with -gilded and garlanded pole; and on the other Ivy with her maidens; each -side taunting the other, and maybe tugging for prisoners. "Ivy-girls," -too, used to be burned by companies of boys, and Holly-boys by -girls--all yawping and jodelling at the sport. - -"Poppynguy" may perhaps be the jay, but it would be pleasanter company -for the lark, if here it means the green woodpecker. His other names -are rain-bird, hew-hole, wood-sprite, woodweele, woodspeek and yaffle, -the very sound of which is like the echo of his own laughter in the -sunny green tops of the wood. - - - 260. "WHEN ISICLES HANG BY THE WALL." - -There is a peculiar magic (which may perhaps be less apparent to -the Greenlanders) in icicles. Nor are its effects unknown to the -four-footed. In certain remote regions of Siberia there is said to be a -little animal called the IccÄ—-vulff (or Ice-wolf). He has prick-ears, -is a fierce feeder, and wears a coat so wondrous close and dense that -three or four of our English moles' skins laid one atop the other would -yet fall short of its match. But he seldom attains to a ripe age, and -for this reason. As soon as he is freed from his dam's snow-burrow, he -hastes off to the dwellings of the men of those parts, snuffing their -dried seal-steaks and blubber, being a most incorrigible thief and -a very wary. And such is his craft that he mocks at gins, traps and -pitfalls. But he has a habit which is often to his undoing. It is in -this wise: The heat of these hovels is apt to melt a little the snow -upon them, its water trickling and coursing softly down till long, keen -icicles are formed, upon which, whether hungry or fed, taking up his -station in a plumb line beneath them, he will squat and gloat for an -hour together, having a marvellous greedy pleasure in clear glasslike -colours. Hearing his breathing or faint snuffing, any human who -wakes within will of a sudden violently shake the wall between. This -dislodges the pendent icicles, and the squatting IccÄ—-vulff is pierced -to his death as with a sword. - -Winter indeed makes crystal even of ink. It has the power of enchanting -every imagination; and particularly Coleridge's: - - Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, - Whether the summer clothe the general earth - With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing - Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch - Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch - Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall - Heard only in the trances of the blast, - Or if the secret ministry of frost - Shall hang them up in silent icicles, - Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.... - - - 264. "WOE WEEPS OUT HER DIVISION WHEN SHE SINGS." - -This means, I think, that she adds her own grieved cadences to the -melody, as may one, among many voices, singing in harmony. - - - 265. "IS LIKE A BUBBLE." - -This rainbow "bubble"--like Shelley's "many-coloured dome of glass" in -his _Adonais_--seems, before our very eyes, to be floating up into the -empty blue heavens, until it smalls into a bead of gold, and vanishes. -It brings to memory--though I am uncertain of the first line--an -epitaph in the church at Zennor, a village clustered above the Atlantic -on the dreamlike coast of Cornwall--an epitaph cut in fine lettering -into its slate slab, while at each corner of the slab Cherubs' heads -puff out their round cheeks, representing the winds of the world: - - Sorrow, and sin, false hope, and trouble-- - These the Four Winds that daily vex this Bubble: - His breath a Vapour, and his life a Span; - 'Tis Glorious Misery to be born a Man. - - - 266. "O, SWEET CONTENT." - - There is a jewel which no Indian mines - Can buy, no chymic art can counterfeit; - It makes men rich in greatest poverty; - Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, - The homely whistle to sweet music's strain: - Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent, - That much in little, all in naught--Content. - - - "ART THOU POOR ... ART THOU RICH." - -The subject being riches, here from Hugh Rhodes, is a nourishing crumb -or two of advice. _Cautions_ the poem is called, and it may be found in -the _Book of Nurture_: - - He that spendeth much, - And getteth nought; - He that oweth much, - And hath nought; - He that looketh in his purse - And findeth nought,-- - He may be sorry, - And say nought. - - He that may and will not, - He then that would shall not. - He that would and cannot - May repent and sigh not. - - He that sweareth - Till no man trust him; - He that lieth - Till no man believe him; - He that borroweth - Till no man will lend him; - Let him go where - No man knoweth him. - - He that hath a good master, - And cannot keep him; - He that hath a good servant, - And is not content with him; - He that hath such conditions, - That no man loveth him; - May well know other, - But few men will know him. - -And, to make trebly sure: - - Three false sisters: "Perhaps," "May be," "I dare say." - Three timid brothers: "Hush!" "Stop!" "Listen!" - - - 269. "LORD RAMESES OF EGYPT SIGHED." - -The most ancient poem I know of consists of such a sigh. It comes from -an Egyptian tomb, was composed about 5000 years ago, and might have -been written by some melancholy soul at his sick-room window yesterday -afternoon. For, after all, these ancients whose mummies are now a -mere wonder for the curious, all lived, as Raleigh says, "in the same -newness of time which we call 'old time.'" - - "Death is before me to-day - Like the recovery of a sick man, - Like going forth into a garden after sickness. - - "Death is before me to-day - Like the odour of myrrh, - Like sitting under the sail on a windy day.... - - "Death is before me to-day - Like the course of the freshet, - Like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house.... - - "Death is before me to-day - As a man longs to see his house - When he has spent years in captivity." - - - 272. "THESE STRONG AND FAIR...." - -And here is another poem by William Barnes which I have ventured to -spell not as it appears in its original dialect, but in the usual way: - - If souls should only shine as bright - In heaven as in earthly light, - And nothing better were the case, - How comely still, in shape and face, - Would many reach that happy place,-- - The hopeful souls that in their prime, - Have seemed a-taken before their time-- - The young that died in beauty. - - But when one's limbs have lost their strength - A-toiling through a lifetime's length, - And over cheeks a-growing old - The slowly-wasting years have rolled - The deepening wrinkles' hollow fold; - When life is ripe, then death do call - For less of thought, than when it fall - On young folks in their beauty.... - - But still the dead shall more than keep - The beauty of their early sleep; - Where comely looks shall never wear - Uncomely, under toil and care, - The fair, at death be always fair, - Still fair to living, thought and love, - And fairer still to God above, - Than when they died in beauty. - - - 273. - -I remember actually coming upon this poem (in Mr. Nahum's second book), -and how I twisted my head and looked up at the quiet dark-socketed -skull in its alcove in the turret room. It had no alarm for me then, -though I can recall cold moments of dread or confusion, when I was -a boy, at the thought of death. Then--or was it some time after?--I -turned the page and found the following poem by Thomas Campion, and, -in Mr. Nahum's writing, this scrawl at the foot of it: "Yes, but the -vision first." - - The man of life upright, - Whose guiltless heart is free - From all dishonest deeds, - Or thought of vanity; - - The man whose silent days - In harmless joys are spent, - Whom hopes cannot delude - Nor sorrow discontent: - - That man needs neither towers - Nor armour for defence, - Nor secret vaults to fly - From thunder's violence: - - He only can behold - With unaffrighted eyes - The horrors of the deep - And terrors of the skies. - - Thus scorning all the cares - That fate or fortune brings, - He makes the heaven his book, - His wisdom heavenly things; - - Good thoughts his only friends, - His wealth a well-spent age, - The earth his sober inn - And quiet pilgrimage. - -"... Yet suffer us, O Lord, not to repine, whether in the morning, at -noon, or at midnight, that is to say, in our cradle, in our youth, or -old age, we go to take our long sleep; but let us make this reckoning -of our years, that if we can live no longer, _that_ is unto us our old -age; for he that liveth so long as thou appointest him (though he die -in the pride of his beauty) dieth an old man...." - - - 274. "ADIEU! FAREWELL EARTH'S BLISS." - -This solemn dirge was written in "time of pestilence,"--such a time -as Daniel Defoe tells of in his "Journal of the Plague Year." The -Elizabethan poets brooded endlessly on the mystery of death. A music -haunts their words like that of muffled bells, as in John Fletcher's -poem: - - ... Come hither, you that hope, and you that cry, - Leave off complaining! - Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never die, - Are here remaining. - Come hither, fools, and blush you stay so long - From being blessed. - And mad men, worse than you, that suffer wrong, - Yet seek no rest!... - -And in William Davenant's: - - Wake, all the dead! What ho! what ho! - How soundly they sleep whose pillows lie low! - They mind not poor lovers, who walk above - On the decks of the world in storms of love. - No whisper now nor glance shall pass - Through wickets or through panes of glass, - For our windows and doors are shut and barred. - Lie close in the church, and in the churchyard! - In every grave make room, make room! - The world's at an end, and we come, we come!... - - - 275. "I WHO LOVED WITH ALL MY LIFE LOVE WITH ALL MY DEATH." - - Not full twelve years twice-told, a weary breath - I have exchanged for a wishèd death. - My course was short, the longer is my rest, - God takes them soonest whom he loveth best; - For he that's born to-day and dies to-morrow, - Loseth some days of mirth, but months of sorrow. - -And this reminds me of an epitaph I chanced on in the graveyard at -Manorbier whose ruinous castle towers above the green turf of its -narrow ocean inlet, as if it were keeping a long tryst with the clocked -church tower on the height: - - Weep not for her ye friends that's dear, - Weep for your sins, for death is near-- - You see by her, she [was] cut down soon. - Her morning Sun went down at noon. - -And then there are these two unforgettable fragments, the one from the -Scots of John Wedderburn (1542), and the other of a century before, its -authorship unknown: - - - WHO'S AT MY WINDOW? - - Who's at my window, who, who? - Go from my window, go, go! - Who calleth there so like a stranger? - Go from my window--go! - - Lord, I am here, a wretched mortal - That for Thy mercy does cry and call-- - Unto Thee, my Lord Celestial, - See who is at my window, who. - - - THE CALL. - - ... Come home again, come home again; - Mine own sweet heart, come home again! - You are gone astray - Out of your way, - Therefore, sweet heart, come home again! - - - 277. "HARK! NOW EVERYTHING IS STILL." - - Death stands above me, whispering low - I know not what into my ear; - Of his strange language all I know - Is, there is not a word of fear. - - WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR - - - "'TIS NOW FULL TIDE 'TWEEN NIGHT AND DAY." - - (line 17) - - Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust; - And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things; - Grow rich in that which never taketh rust; - Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings. - - Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might - To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be; - Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light, - That doth both shine and give us sight to see. - - O, take fast hold! let that light be thy guide - In this small course which birth draws out to death-- - And think how evil becometh him to slide, - Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath. - - Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see: - Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me. - - SIR PHILIP SIDNEY - - - 278. - -Of the _Lyke-wake Dirge_ is known neither the age nor the author. The -body from which the "saule" or spirit within is fled away lies in its -shroud, and the dirge tells of that spirit's journey. Its word "sleet," -says Mr. Sidgwick, means either salt, for it was the custom to place in -a wooden platter beside the dead, earth and salt for emblems, the one -of corruption, the other of the immortal; or, as some suppose, "sleet" -should be _fleet_, meaning embers or water or house-room. "Whinnies" -means gorse. To explain the full meaning of Bridge of Dread would need -many pages--but does not much of that meaning haunt in the very music -and solemnity of the words? - - - 279. - -Next this poem in Mr. Nahum's book was "Lead, Kindly Light," and there -was a strange picture for it hanging in the round tower--the picture -of a small becalmed ship, clumsy of rig and low in the water which was -smooth and green as glass. In the midst of the ship there was piled -high what might be taken for a vast heap of oranges, their fair reddish -colour blazing in the rays of the sun that was about to plunge out -of the greenish sky below the line of the west. But what even more -particularly attracted my eye at the time was that ship's figurehead--a -curious head and shoulders as if with wings, and of a kind of far -beauty or wonder entirely past me to describe. Many years afterwards I -read that this poem was written by John Henry Newman (one who even in -his young days at Oxford was "never less alone than when alone"), when -his mind was perplexed and unhappy, and he himself had time to ponder -awhile, because the boat in which he was sailing to England had been -for some days becalmed off the coast of Spain. - - - 281. "FEAR NO MORE." - - _Philaster._ Fie, fie, - So young and so dissembling! fear'st thou not death? - Can boys contemn that? - - _Bellario._ O, what boy is he - Can be content to live to be a man, - That sees the best of men thus passionate, - Thus without reason? - - _Philaster._ O, but thou dost not know what 'tis to die. - - _Bellario._ Yes, I do know, my Lord! - 'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep, - A quiet resting from all jealousy; - A thing we all pursue; I know besides - It is but giving over of a game - That must be lost. - - From _Philaster_: FRANCIS BEAUMONT and JOHN FLETCHER - - - 284. "ALL THE FLOWERS." - -"... But those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed -by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three--that -is, burnet, wild thyme, and watermints. Therefore you are to set whole -alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread." - - _An Essay on Gardens_, FRANCIS BACON - - Bring, too, some branches forth of Daphne's hair, - And gladdest myrtle for the posts to wear, - With spikenard weaved and marjorams between - And starred with yellow-golds and meadows-queen. - -The very names indeed of the aromatic herbs seem to "perfume the -air"--bergamot, lavender, meadowsweet, costmary, southernwood, -woodruff, balm, germander. And flowers even though dead remain sweet in -their dust, as every bowl of potpourri proclaims. To have "a repository -of odours" always with them, when streets were foul and pestilence -was a peril, gentle-people would in old times carry fresh nosegays -or pomanders. The pomanders were of many kinds; an orange stuffed -with cloves, etc., for the hand; or--for pocket or chatelaine--some -little curiously-devised receptacle of silver containing tiny phials -of precious essences--possibly no bigger than a plum. Or they might -be compounded of rare ingredients: "Your only way to make a good -pomander is this. Take an ounce of the purest garden mould, cleansed -and steeped seven days in change of motherless rose water. Then take -the best labdanum, benjoin, both storaxes, ambergris, civet, and musk. -Incorporate them together, and work them into what form you please. -This, if your breath be not too valiant, will make you smell as sweet -as any lady's dog." - - - 285. - -I have pondered over the thirteenth and eighteenth lines of this poem, -but am not yet certain of all that they were intended to convey. But -what scope for the imagination is in it! The next epitaph is by Stephen -Hawes, whose _Passetyme of Pleasure or History of Graunde Amoure, and -La Bel Pucel_, was printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1509: - - O mortal folk, you may behold and see - How I lie here, sometime a mighty knight. - The end of joy and all prosperity - Is death at last, thorough his course and might: - For though the day be never so long, - At last the bells ringeth to evensong. - -And the lines following are said to have been found between the pages -of Sir Walter Raleigh's Bible in the Gate House at Westminster, having -been written by him, it is surmised, during the night before he--an -ageing man of sixty-six--was beheaded: - - Even such is Time, that takes in trust - Our youth, our joys, our all we have, - And pays us but with earth and dust; - Who, in the dark and silent grave, - When we have wandered all our ways, - Shuts up the story of our days. - - But from this earth, this grave, this dust, - My God shall raise me up, I trust. - - - 286. "SIDNEY, O SIDNEY IS DEAD." - -"Sir Philip Sydney, Knight," says John Aubrey, "was the most -accomplished courtier of his time. He was not only of an excellent -witt, but extremely beautiful; he much resembled his sister. He was -a person of great courage. Among others Mr. Edmund Spenser made his -addresse to him, and brought his _Faery Queen_. Sir Philip was busy -at his study, and his servant delivered Mr. Spenser's booke to his -master, who layd it by, thinking it might be such kind of stuffe as -he was frequently troubled with. When Sir Philip perused it, he was -so exceedingly delighted with it, that he was extremely sorry he was -gonne, and where to send for him he knew not. After much enquiry he -learned his lodgeing, and sent for him, and mightily caressed him.... -From this time there was a great friendship between them, to his dying -day.... His body was putt in a leaden coffin (which after the firing of -Paule's, I myself sawe), and with wonderfull greate state was carried -to St. Paule's church, when he was buried in our Ladie's Chapell. There -solempnized this funerall all the nobility and great officers of Court." - -Here is part of a letter written to him, by his father, Sir Henry -Sidney, in 1566, when Philip was a boy at Shrewsbury School: - - SON PHILIP.... Above all things, tell no untruth. - No, not in trifles. The custom of it is nought: and let it - not satisfy you that, for a time, the hearers take it for a - truth; yet after it will be known as it is, to your shame. For - there cannot be a greater reproach to a gentleman, than to be - accounted a liar.... Remember, my son! the noble blood you are - descended of by your mother's side: and think that only by - virtuous life and good action you may be an ornament to that - illustrious family; otherwise, through vice and sloth, you may - be counted _labes generis_, "a spot of your kin," one of the - greatest curses that can happen to man. - -This next fragment is from a letter written on October 18, 1580, by Sir -Philip Sidney himself to his younger brother Robert (then seventeen). -This Robert six years afterwards fought with him at Zutphen. He grew up -a gallant gentleman, was created Earl of Leicester, and in his leisure -wrote words to fit the music of John Dowland--afterwards lutenist to -Charles I. - - MY DEAR BROTHER, - - For the money you have received, assure yourself (for it is - true), there is nothing I spend so pleaseth me; as that which - is for you. If ever I have ability, you shall find it so: if - not, yet shall not any brother living be better beloved than - you, of me.... Look to your diet, sweet Robin! and hold your - heart in courage and virtue. Truly, great part of my comfort - is in you!.... Be careful of yourself, and I shall never have - cares.... I write this to you as one, that for myself have - given over the delight in the world; but wish to you as much, - if not more, than to myself.... God bless you, sweet Boy! and - accomplish the joyful hope I conceive of you.... Lord how I - have babbled! Once again, farewell, dearest Brother! - - Your most loving and careful brother, - - PHILIP SIDNEY - -And here in a few words is a fleeting glimpse of this renowned man as -he appeared amidst the splendour and magnificence of the Tournament, -during the Anjou Fetes in London, in 1581, five years before his death: - - "Then proceeded Master Philip Sidney, in very sumptuous manner - with armour part blue and the rest gilt and engraven.... He - had four pages that rode on his four spare horses" (richly - caparisoned in gold and pearls and feathers of silver) "who - had cassock hats and Venetian hose all of cloth of silver laid - with gold lace and hats of the same with gold bands and white - feathers: and each one a pair of white buskins." ... There - followed him in as rich and splendid array his gentlemen, - yeomen, and trumpeters. - - - 287. "HIS PICTURE IN A SHEET." - -Of John Donne's Book of Poems there was nothing in Mr. Nahum's first -volume, much in the others. But what I then read of them I little -understood. It is a poetry that awaits the mind as the body grows -older, and when we have ourselves learned the experience of life with -which it is concerned. Not that the simplest poetry will then lose -anything of its grace and truth and beauty--far rather it shines the -more clearly, since age needs it the more. - -"_His Picture in a sheet_" refers to a drawing (prefixed to Donne's -_Poems_') of his stone effigy. This shows him draped with a shroud, -and may now be seen in St. Paul's Cathedral, of which he was the dean, -and in whose pulpit a few days before his death he preached his last -valedictory or farewell sermon. - - - "LIVING TO ETERNITY." - - How happy is he born and taught - That serveth not another's will; - Whose armour is his honest thought, - And simple truth his utmost skill!... - - Who God doth late and early pray - More of his grace than gifts to lend; - And entertains the harmless day - With a well chosen book or friend; - - This man is freed from servile bands - Of hope to rise or fear to fall: - Lord of himself, though not of lands, - And having nothing, yet hath all. - -Sir Thomas More was such a man. On Monday, July 5th, 1535, the night -before he was beheaded, he wrote ("with a cole") this letter of -farewell to his daughter Margaret Roper. He had seen her for the last -time when she openly met and kissed him in the midst of his enemies and -of the throngs on Tower Wharf, as he came from Judgment: - -"Oure Lorde Blesse you good daughter, & youre good husbande, & youre -lyttle boye, & all yours, & all my children, & all my Godde chyldren -and all oure frendes.... I cumber you good _Margaret_ much, but I would -be sory, if it should be any longer than to morow. For it is saint -_Thomas_ even, & the utas of saint _Peter_: & therfore to morow long -I to go to God: it were a day verye mete & convenient for me. I never -liked your maner toward me better, than whan you kissed me laste: for I -love when doughterly love, and deere charitye, hath no leysure to loke -to worldlye curtesy. Farewell my dere chylde, & pray for me & I shall -for you & all youre frendes, that we maye merilye mete in heaven...." - - - 288. "DO THOU THE SAME." - -So too Walter Savage Landor: - - ... Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold - Than daisies in the mould, - Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, - His name, and life's brief date. - Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be, - And, O, pray too for me! - - - 290. "A PRETTY BUD." - -"To die young," in William Drummond's words, "is to do that soon, and -in some fewer days, which once thou must do; it is but the giving over -of a game, that after never so many hazards must be lost." - - - 291. "A-LEFT ASLEEP." - - May! Be thou never graced with birds that sing, - Nor Flora's pride! - In thee all flowers and roses spring-- - Mine, only died. - - _In obitum MS. X^o Maij._ 1614, WILLIAM BROWNE - - - 293. "SUNK LYONESSE." - -There is a legend--recorded in an ancient monastic chronicle--that in -the days of Arthur there stretched between Land's End and the Scillies -a country of castles, of fair towns, and landscapes, named Lyonesse. -When the tumult of the last great Arthurian battle was over, there -befell a cataclysm of nature, and in a night of tempest this whole -region was engulfed beneath the seas. - -What truth is in this legend no certain history relates. But when the -vast Atlantic breakers begin to lull after storm, to lie listening -in the watches of the night is to hear, it would seem, deep-sunken -belfries of bells sounding in the waters, and siren-like lamentations. -I have myself heard this, and fantasy though it may be, if the ear is -once beguiled into its deceit, the bells clash and chime on and on in -the imagination, mingled with the enormous lully of the surges, until -at last, one falls asleep. - - - 299. "SING NO SAD SONGS FOR ME." - ---and here is another such happy and tender word of farewell--but from -one unknown: - - When from the world I should be ta'en, - And from earth's necessary pain, - Then let no blacks be worn for me, - Not in a ring, my dear, by thee. - But this bright diamond, let it be - Worn in rememberance of me. - And when it sparkles in your eye, - Think 'tis my shadow passeth by. - - - 302. "READEN OV A HEAD-STWONE." - -This poem, again, is spelt as the words would be pronounced by the -country people of Dorset, the country in which William Barnes was born -and lived nearly all his long life. Their way of speech is slower -than in common English, and the words, especially those with the two -dots, or diaeresis, over them, should be lingered over a little in -pronouncing them. - -Londoners have a way of being scornfully amused at country speech--in -their ignorance that it is older and far more beautiful than their own -clipped and nasal manner of talking. But half an hour with the great -_Dialect Dictionary_ will prove how inexhaustibly rich the English -language once was and still is in words made, used, and loved by folk -unlearned in books, but with keen and lively eyes in their heads, quick -to see the delight and livingness of a thing, and with the wits to give -it a name fitting it as close as a skin. - - - 303. "CARE IS HEAVY." - - Dear God, though Thy all-powerful hand - Should so direct my earthly fate - That I may seem unfortunate - To them who do not understand - That all things follow Thy decree, - Staunchly I'll bear what e'er's Thy will-- - Praying Thee but to grant me still - That none shall come to harm through me; - For, God, although Thou knowest all, - I am too young to comprehend - The windings to my journey's end; - I fear upon the road to fall - In the worst sin of all that be - And thrust my brother in the sea. - - CONAL O'RIORDAN - - - 304. "MOTHER, NEVER MOURN." - -"It was my own mother (wrote Thomas Cantimpratanus about 1260) who told -me the story which I am about to relate. My grandmother had a firstborn -son of most excellent promise, comely beyond the wont of children, at -whose death she mourned ... with a grief that could not be consoled, -until one day, as she went by the way, she saw in her vision a band -of youths moving onwards, as it seemed to her, with exceeding great -joy; and she, remembering her son and weeping that she saw him not in -this joyful band, suddenly beheld him trailing weary footsteps after -the rest. Then with a grievous cry the mother asked: 'How comes it, -my son, that thou goest alone, lagging thus behind the rest?' Then he -opened the side of his cloak and showed her a heavy water-pot, saying: -'Behold, dear mother, the tears which thou hast vainly shed for me, -through the weight whereof I must needs linger behind the rest! Thou -therefore shalt turn thy tears to God: then only shall I be freed from -the burden wherewith I am now grieved.'" - -But not all dreamers are so rebuked or so comforted. St. Augustine, a -loving son, pined in vain: - -"If the dead could come in dreams," he wrote, "my pious mother would -no night fail to visit me. Far be the thought that she should, by a -happier life, have been made so cruel that, when aught vexes my heart, -she should not even console in a dream the son whom she loved with an -only love." - - - 310. TOM O' BEDLAM. - -This poem has been at hide-and-seek with the world for many years past. -Mr. Frank Sidgwick has now played Seek, however, and has tracked it -down in the British Museum in a manuscript, No. 24665, inscribed "Giles -Earle--his book, 1615." In this manuscript the poem consists of eight -stanzas of ten lines each, with a chorus of five lines. The version in -this book is only of twenty-five lines, as they were arranged by Mrs. -Meynell in her beautiful Anthology, _The Flower of the Mind_. Here are -the chief differences which Mr. Sidgwick has very kindly allowed me to -collect from his account of his search: - -Line 1, "moon" is _morn_. Line 2, "lovely" is _lonely_, "marrow" is -_morrow_. Line 10, "rounded" is _wounded_. Line 16, "a heart" is a -_host_. And line 21, "with" is _by_. It is a happy exercise of the wits -to choose between them and to find reasons for one's choice. When and -by whom the poem was written is not yet known. It remains a shining -jewel in the crown of the most modest of all men of genius, Mr. Anon. - - - 314. "WHAT'S IN THERE." - -This far-carrying rhyme belongs to the ancient and famous game of Dump. -"He who speaks first in it," says Dr. Gregor, "or laughs first, or lets -his teeth be seen, gets nine nips, nine nobs, nine double douncornes, -an' a gueed blow on the back o' the head." - -The _faht_ and _fahr_, I suppose, are the pleasant Scots way of saying -_what_ and _where_. - - - 316. - -So may the omission of a few commas effect a wonder in the imagination. -To the imagination indeed there is nothing absurd in, "I saw the sun -at twelve o'clock at night"--for one can actually _see_ in the "little -nowhere of the mind" both burning sun and black night _together_: as -once in a dream I myself was enchanted by three moons in the sky, -shining in their silver above waters as wide as those of Milton's -curfew. So, too, even mere day-by-day objects will take on themselves a -strangeness and beauty never seen or "marked" before, if (like Marcus -Aurelius and his loaf of bread) we will only "glut" the eye on them. "I -see a rose," said an old woman on her deathbed, "but if, in childhood -and youth, I had seen it closer, what a rose on the threshold it had -been!" - -Here is another old nursery "nonsense" rhyme that makes almost as -lively pictures in the mind: - - There was a man of double deed - Who sowed his garden full of seed; - And when the seed began to grow, - 'Twas like a garden full of snow; - And when the snow began to fall, - Like birds it was upon the wall; - And when the birds began to fly, - 'Twas like a shipwreck in the sky; - And when the sky began to crack, - 'Twas like a stick upon my back; - And when my back began to smart, - 'Twas like a pen-knife in my heart; - And when my heart began to bleed, - Then I was dead--and dead indeed. - - - 319. "IT HAD BECOME A GLIMMERING GIRL." - -"The Tuatha De Danaan--the divine Children of Danu which forgotten -centuries ago invaded Ireland--can take all shapes, and those that -are in the waters take often the shape of fish. A woman of Burren, in -Galway, says, 'There are more of them in the sea than on the land ...,' -and another Galway woman says, 'Surely those things are in the sea as -well as on land. My father was out fishing one night off Tyrone. And -something came beside the boat that had eyes shining like candles. And -then a wave came in, and a storm rose all in a minute, and whatever was -in the wave, the weight of it had like to sink the boat. And then they -saw that it was a woman in the sea that had the shining eyes. So my -father went to the priest, and he bid him always to take a drop of holy -water and a pinch of salt out in the boat with him, and nothing could -harm him.'" - - W. B. YEATS - - - 321. "ONE WITHOUT." - - Was it the sound of a footfall I heard - On the cold flag stone? - Or the cry of a wandering far night bird, - On the sea-winds blown? - Was that a human shape that stood? - In the shadow below, - Or but the mist of the moonlit wood - As it hovered low? - Was it the voice of a child that called - From the hill side steep? - Or, O, but the wind as it softly lulled - The world to sleep? - - ELIZABETH RAMAL - - - 325. "BROOME, BROOME ON HILL." - -The story is of how a bright lady comes to keep her tryst with a -knight-at-arms in the golden broom of Hive Hill. She finds him under -a charm, an enchantment, asleep; and having left her ring on his -finger for proof of her coming, she steals away. Presently after he -awakes--her presence gone. To leave a quiet and happy room vacant at -night is sometimes to have this experience, as it were, _reversed_. -There comes a feeling that you being gone, gentler visitants may enter -and share its solitude--while its earthly occupant sleeps overhead, and -one by one the stars sink to their setting. - - - 326. "THE CHANGELING." - - When larks gin sing - Away we fling, - And babes new-born steal as we go; - An elf instead - We leave in bed, - And wind out, laughing, Ho, ho, ho! - - - 329. "MARIANA." - -It is difficult to read this poem slowly and intently enough if one is -to experience to the _full_ the living things and sights and sounds -that by its words are charmed into the mind--the hushed solitude, the -desolation. Take even, of all there is, but the "peering mouse" in -the sixth stanza--his sharp nose sniffing the air beneath the small -wooden arch of his dark-glimmering mousery, where miche and shriek and -gambol his fellows behind the mouldering wainscot. Or stay for a moment -looking down on the "marsh mosses" in the third stanza--of a green as -lively as a fairy's mantle in the sunlight, gilding the waters of the -blackened sluice. So piece by piece the words of the poem build up in -the imagination this solitary house with its forsaken Mariana, whom -Tennyson himself had seen in the dream conferred on him by another -poet, Shakespeare, in _Measure for Measure_: - - _Isabella._ Can this be so? did _Angelo_ so leave her? - - _Duke._ Left her in her teares, and dried not one of them - with his comfort: swallowed his vowes whole, - pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in - few, bestowed on her her owne lamentation, - which she yet weares for his sake: and he, a - marble to her teares, is washed with them, but - relents not. - - _Isabella._ What a merit were it in death to take this poore - maid from the world.... - - - 332. "YES TOR." - -Turn your back on Okehampton and break out due South into the wilds of -Dartmoor, and there, "summering" together "beneath the empty skies," -lie titanic Yes Tor and High Willes, rearing their bare vast shapes 700 -yards into the air. - - - 333. "TO HEARE THE MANDRAKE GRONE." (stanza 2) - -Of the dangerous plant Mandrake ("its root in something the shape and -appearance of a man") is concocted Mandragora, one of the "drowsy -syrups." "The leaves and fruit be also dangerous, for they cause deadly -sleep, and peevish drowsiness." The fruit is "of the bigness of a -reasonable pippin, and as yellow as gold when it is thoroughly ripe": -fair without, ashes within. It is said that the mandrake's screams, -when it is dragged out of the ground, will send the hearer mad. So -the gatherer should first seal his ears, then tie the plant to a -dog's tail and hike him on to haul it out of its haunt! "Avicenna the -Arabian physician asserts that a Jew at Metz had a mandragore with a -human head, and the legs and body of a cock, which lived five weeks, -and was fed on lavender and earthworms, and, when dead, was preserved -in spirits." Even up to the nineteenth century dreaders or wishers of -witchcraft were wont to carry these monstrous little Erdmannikens in -bosom or pocket for an amulet or charm. - -The "Basilisk," old books maintain, is a fabulous beast whose icy glare -freezes the gazer, and is mortal. Approach her then with a mirror; and -courage be your guide! - - - "HEMLOCK, HENBANE, ADDERS-TONGUE." (line 10) - -Hemlock is that tall, dim-spotted plant of a sad green colour, and of -a scent "strong, heady and bad," which is "very cold and dangerous," -especially when "digged in the dark." - -Clammy henbane is woolly-leafed, with hollow dark-eyed flowers of a -purple-veined dingy yellow. "It lusts to grow in rancid soil, To 'stil -its deadly oil." - -Moonwort is the meek-looking little flowering fern that has the power -to break locks, and to make any horse that chances to tread upon it -cast his shoes. - -The livid-flowered, cherry like-fruited dwale, enoron, or nightshade is -the most "daungerous" plant in England. While leopard's bane--though it -bears a bright-yellow daisy-like flower, and witches are said to fear -sun-colour--is venomous to animals. - -I am uncertain of adder's tongue, for the fern of this name cures sore -eyes; and cuckoo-pint which is also so called, is "a remedy for poison -and the plague"! - -Of these six insidious plants only one is openly mentioned by -Shakespeare, and they appear to have few country names, unlike, -for example, the purple orchis, "which has so many," says Nicholas -Culpeper, "that they would fill a sheet of paper": long-purples, -dead-men's fingers, crake-feet, giddy-gandy, neat-legs, geese and -goslings, and gander-gooses, being a few choice specimens. - - - 334. "THE RAVEN." - - Underneath an old oak tree - There was of swine a huge company, - That grunted as they crunched the mast: - For that was ripe, and fell full fast. - Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high: - One acorn they left, and no more might you spy. - Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly: - He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy! - Blacker was he than blackest jet, - Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. - - He picked up the acorn and buried it straight - By the side of a river both deep and great. - Where then did the Raven go? - He went high and low, - Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go. - Many Autumns, many Springs - Travelled he with wandering wings: - Many Summers, many Winters-- - I can't tell half his adventures. - - At length he came back, and with him a She, - And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree, - They built them a nest in the topmost bough, - And young ones they had, and were happy enow. - But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise, - His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes. - He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke, - But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke, - At length he brought down the poor Raven's own oak. - His young ones were killed; for they could not depart, - And their mother did die of a broken heart. - - The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever; - And they floated it down on the course of the river. - They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip, - And with this tree and others they made a good ship. - The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land - Such a storm there did rise as no ship could withstand. - It bulged on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast: - Round and round flew the raven, and cawed to the blast. - He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls-- - See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls! - Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet, - And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet, - And he thanked him again and again for this treat: - They had taken his all, and REVENGE IT WAS SWEET! - - S. T. COLERIDGE - -"Seventeen or eighteen years ago," wrote Coleridge in 1817, "an artist -of some celebrity was so pleased with this doggerel that he amused -himself with the thought of making a Child's Picture Book of it; but he -could not hit on a picture for the four lines beginning, 'Many Autumns, -many Springs.' I suggested a _Round-about_ with four seats, and the -four seasons, as children, with Time for the shew-man." - - - 335. "A THOUSAND DARLING IMPS." (stanza 19) - -"Aeriel spirits," says Robert Burton, "are such as keep quarter most -part in the air, cause many tempests, thunder, and lightnings, tear -oaks, fire steeples, houses, strike men and beasts, make it rain -stones, ... wool, frogs, etc., counterfeit armies in the air, strange -noises, swords, etc." - -Nothing vexed Linnet Sara more than to be asked if there were any such -darling imps or spectres or ghosts or blackamoors in Thrae. All such to -her were nothing but idle fiddle-faddle. But Reginald Scot, who wrote -_The Discoverie of Witchcraft_ (1584), had another kind of kitchen -company when he was young. - -"... Our mothers maide," he says, of his childhood, "so terrified -us with ... bull beggers, spirits, witches, urchens, elves, hags, -fairies, satyrs, pans, faunes, sylens, kit with the cansticke, -tritons, centaurs, dwarfes, giants, imps, calcars, conjurors, nymphes, -changlings, Incubus, Robin goodfellowe, the spoorne, the mare, the man -in the oke, the hellwaine, the fierdrake, the puckle, Tom thombe, hob -gobblin, Tom tumbler, boneles, and such other bugs, that we were afraid -of our own shadowes: in so much as some never feare the divill, but in -a dark night; ..." - -There seems to be no mention here of the salamander--a creature at -least as rarely seen by mortal eyes as the puckle or firedrake. - -"When I was about five years old," says Benvenuto Cellini, "my father -happened to be in a basement-chamber of our house, where they had been -washing, and where a good fire of oak logs was still burning; he had a -viol in his hand and was playing and singing alone beside the fire. The -weather was very cold. Happening to look into the fire, he espied in -the middle of the most burning flames a little creature like a lizard, -which was sporting in the core of the intensest coals. Becoming aware -of what the thing was, he had my sister and me called, and pointing it -out to us children, gave me a great box on the ears, which caused me to -cry with all my might. Then he pacified me by saying, 'My dear little -boy, I am not striking you for anything that you have done, but only to -make you remember that the lizard you see in the fire is a salamander, -a creature which has never been seen before by any of whom we have -credible information.' So saying he gave me some pieces of money, and -kissed me." - - - "BELL AND WHIP AND HORSE'S TAIL" (stanza 22) - ---such in old days was the Witch's vile punishment if she escaped -drowning: to be whipped, tied to a horse's tail, and rung through the -crowded streets. - -"Agramie," I suppose, is agrimony, which, if worn by the wary, will -enable the wearer to detect witches. Their eyes too will betray them, -for _there_ you will find no tiny image of yourself reflected as in the -eyes of the honest. And if you would be rid of their company, pluck a -sprig of scarlet pimpernel, and repeat this charm: - - Herbe pimpernell, I have thee found - Growing upon Christ Jesus' ground: - The same guift the Lord Jesus gave unto thee, - When he shed his blood on the tree, - Arise up, pimpernell, and goe with me. - And God blesse me, - And all that shall wear _thee_. AMEN. - -"Say this fifteen dayes together, twice a day, morning earlye fasting, -and in the evening full." - -Indeed, at last, whatever the peril, a quiet heart and heaven's -courage, are charm enough: - - I say that we are wound - With mercy round and round - As if with air: ... - - GERALD MANLEY HOPKINS - - - 336. "THE WATER KELPY" (stanza 8) - -is a fiend that haunts in rivers and desolate waters. It is of -horse-shape, and the sound of its neighings is a boding of death to the -traveller. - -"Thus did the evil creatures often press me hard, but, as was meet, I -served them well with my war-sword; they had no joyous fill by eating -me, wicked destroyers, sitting round their feast nigh the bottom of the -sea; but in the morning, wounded by the sword, slain by the dagger, -they lay up along the sea-strand, so that they could never more hinder -seafarers on their course in the deep channel. - -Light came from the east, the bright beacon of the Lord; the waves were -stilled, and I could descry the sea-headlands, those wind-swept walls." - - _Beowulf_, translated by C. B. TINKER - -"'And what is the sea?' asked Will. - -'The sea!' cried the miller. 'Lord help us all, it is the greatest -thing God made! That is where all the water in the world runs down -into a great salt lake. There it lies, as flat as my hand and as -innocent-like as a child; but they do say when the wind blows it gets -up into water-mountains bigger than any of ours, and swallows down -great ships bigger than our mill, and makes such a roaring that you can -hear it miles away upon the land. There are great fish in it five times -bigger than a bull, and one old serpent as long as our river and as old -as all the world, with whiskers like a man, and a crown of silver on -her head.'" - - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON - - - 341. "THE WANDERING SPECTRE." - -"... The usewall Method for a curious Person to get a transient Sight -of this otherwise invisible Crew of Subterraneans, ... is to put his -left Foot under the Wizard's right Foot, and the Seer's Hand is put on -the Inquirer's Head, who is to look over the Wizard's right Shoulder -... then will he see a Multitude of Wights, like furious hardie Men, -flocking to him haistily from all Quarters, as thick as Atoms in the -Air.... Thes thorow Fear strick him breathless and speechless." - -So says "Mr. Robert Kirk, Minister at Aberfoill," in his _Secret -Commonwealth_ of 1691. - -Of these invisible wights the womenkind "are said to Spin very fine, -to Dy, to Tossue, and Embroyder, but whether only curious Cob-webs, -impalpable Rainbows ... I leave to conjecture." - - - 343. "AND CLOOTIE'S WAUR NOR A WOMAN WAS." - - (stanza 19) - -A strip or patch of wild weedy uncropped ground (like the Sluggard's -garden) that in England is called _No Man's Land_, the Scots country -folk call _Clootie's Croft_ (or Clootie's little field). They hand -it over by name, as it were, to the Fiend, hoping that he may rest -content with its harvest of nettle and bramble and burr, and not range -elsewhere. It is an old belief that if, like Christian, the wayfarer -meets Apollyon straddling across his path, he may have to withstand him -not only with sword and staff, but with his wits. Just so, too, in old -times, sovereign princes would test strangers with dark questions and -riddles. In this ballad the Fiend disguised as a knight comes wooing -at a Widow's door, in the next he is abroad on the high road. Jennifer -and the wee boy kept up their hearts, their wits about them, their eyes -open, and "had the last word"; which, says Mr. Sidgwick, is a mighty -powerful charm against evil spirits--as against Witches are the herbs -vervain, dill, basil, hyssop, periwinkle and rue. Iron, too; the cross, -and running water. - -Here is another such encounter from _The White Wallet_--packed with -poems new and old. You can almost hear the voices of the two speakers -standing together in the quiet and dust of the morning road: - - - MEET-ON-THE-ROAD. - - "Now, pray, where are you going, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road. - "To school, sir, to school, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood. - - "What have you in your basket, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road. - "My dinner, sir, my dinner, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood. - - "What have you for your dinner, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road. - "Some pudding, sir, some pudding, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood. - - "Oh, then I pray, give me a share," said Meet-on-the-Road. - "I've little enough for myself, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood. - - "What have you got that cloak on for?" said Meet-on-the-Road. - "To keep the wind and cold from me," said Child-as-It-Stood. - - "I wish the wind would blow through you," said Meet-on-the-Road. - "Oh, what a wish! Oh, what a wish!" said Child-as-It-Stood. - - "Pray what are those bells ringing for?" said Meet-on-the-Road. - "To ring bad spirits home again," said Child-as-It-Stood. - - "Oh, then, I must be going, child!" said Meet-on-the-Road. - "So fare you well, so fare you well," said Child-as-It-Stood. - -And here, for titbits and _bonnes bouches_, are Seven Ancient Riddles -from _Popular Rhymes_--in case: - - - i. - - The fiddler and his wife, - The piper and his mother, - Ate three half-cakes, three whole cakes, - And three quarters of another. - - - ii. - - A house full, a yard full, - And ye can't catch a bowl full. - - - iii. - - As I was going o'er London Bridge, - I heard something crack; - Not a man in all England - Can mend that! - - - iv. - - I had a little sister, - They called her Pretty Peep; - She wades in the waters, - Deep, deep, deep! - She climbs up the mountains, - High, high, high; - My poor little sister, - She has but one eye. - - - v. - - As I was going o'er yon moor of moss, - I met a man on a gray horse; - He whipp'd and he wail'd, - I ask'd him what he ail'd; - He said he was going to his father's funeral, - Who died seven years before he was born! - - - vi. - - As I looked out o' my chamber window, - I heard something fall; - I sent my maid to pick it up, - But she couldn't pick it all. - - - vii. - - Black within, and red without, - Four corners round about. - - - ANSWERS. - -i. 1¾ cakes each; since, if Mr. Piper marries, his wife will be Mr. -and Mrs. Fiddler's dear daughter-in-law. ii. Smoke; iii. Ice; iv. A -Star; v. The poor soul in the coffin was by trade a dyer; vi. Snuff -(!); vii. A Chimney (in Days of Yore). - - - 344. "THE FAUSE KNICHT." - -Such visitants, it would appear, have marvellous power even over faces -or shapes in stone: - - He's tied his steed to the kirk-stile, - Syne wrang-gaites round the kirk gaed he; - When the Mer-Man entered the kirk-door, - Away the sma' images turned their e'e.... - -Wrang-gaites must mean widdershins, left to right, West to East, the -opposite to _deiseal_ (deshal)--to the right, Sunwards. - -Here is another such visitor--one who considerately intrudes not all at -once but little by little, bone by bone: - - - THE STRANGE VISITOR. - - A wife was sitting at her reel ae night; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a pair o' braid braid soles, and sat down at the fireside; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a pair o' sma' legs, and sat down on the braid braid soles; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a pair o' muckle muckle knees, and sat down on the sma' - sma' legs; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a pair o' sma' sma' thees, and sat down on the muckle muckle - knees; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a pair o' muckle muckle hips, and sat down on the sma' sma' - thees; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a sma' sma' waist, and sat down on the muckle muckle hips; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a pair o' braid braid shouthers, and sat down on the sma' - sma' waist; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a pair o' sma' sma' arms, and sat down on the braid braid - shouthers; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a pair o' muckle muckle hands, and sat down on the sma' sma' - arms; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a sma' sma' neck, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - In came a great big head, and sat down on the sma' sma' neck; - And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company. - - "What way hae ye sic braid braid feet?" quo' the wife. - "Muckle ganging, muckle ganging." - "What way hae ye sic sma' sma' legs?" - "_Aih-h-h_!--late--and _wee-e-e_ moul." - "What way hae ye sic muckle muckle knees?" - "Muckle praying, muckle praying." - "What way hae ye sic sma' sma' thees?" - "_Aih-h-h_!--late--and _wee-e-e_ moul." - "What way hae ye sic big big hips?" - "Muckle sitting, muckle sitting." - "What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' waist?" - "_Aih-h-h_!--late--and _wee-e-e_ moul." - "What way hae ye sic braid braid shouthers?" - "Wi' carrying broom, wi' carrying broom." - "What way hae ye sic sma' sma' arms?" - "_Aih-h-h_!--late--and _wee-e-e_ moul." - "What way hae ye sic muckle muckle hands?" - "Threshing wi' an iron flail, threshing wi' an iron flail." - "What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' neck?" - "_Aih-h-h_!--late--and _wee-e-e_ moul." - "What way hae ye sic a muckle muckle head?" - "Muckle wit, muckle wit." - "What do you come for?" - "For YOU!" - - - 345. "CHRISTABEL." - -I have included only these few stanzas of this familiar magical poem -because a book is but one book, and to print everything as lovely or -almost as lovely would need many. - -In reading it, as Coleridge explained, all that is necessary to ensure -its lilt and cadence is to remember that every line, however few or -many its words or syllables, has four accents, and that these fall in -accord with the meaning of the lines as one reads them with clear eyes, -attentive ear, and understanding. In his tale of Genevieve there is yet -another false and lovely Fiend: - - ... But when I told the cruel scorn - That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, - And that he crossed the mountain-woods, - Nor rested day nor night; - - That sometimes from the savage den, - And sometimes from the darksome shade, - And sometimes starting up at once - In green and sunny glade,-- - - There came and looked him in the face - An angel beautiful and bright; - And that he knew it was a Fiend, - This miserable Knight---- - - - "A TOOTHLESS MASTIFF BITCH." - -Here is a description of one _with_ teeth--a dog seldom seen now. It is -taken from a German book on husbandry, translated by Barnaby Goodge, -and is quoted in _Animal Lore_: - -"First the mastie that keepeth the house: for this purpose you must -provide you such a one, as hath a large and a mightie body, a great -and a shrill voyce, that both with his barking he may discover, and -with his sight dismay the theefe, yea, being not seene, with the -horror of his voice put him to flight; his stature must neither be -long nor short, but well set, his head great, his eyes sharpe, and -fiery, ... his countenance like a lion, his brest great and shaghayrd, -his shoulders broad, his legges bigge, his tayle short, his feet very -great; his disposition must neither be too gentle, nor too curst, that -he neither fawne upon a theefe, nor flee (fly) upon his friends; very -waking, no gadder abroad, not lavish of his mouth, barking without -cause. Neither maketh it any matter though he be not swift: for he is -but to fight at home, and to give warning of the enemie." And his name -is little Bingo! - - - 347. "ONCE A FAIR AND STATELY PALACE." - -The radiant palace of this poem is indeed far away--the other side of -dream and night. Its monstrous word, _Porphyrogene_, means a prince, a -child-Royal, one born in the chamber of some Eastern palace walled with -rare porphyry. - - - 350. "SWEET WHISPERS ARE HEARD BY THE TRAVELLER." - - (stanza 6) - - On a poet's lips I slept - Dreaming like a love-adept - In the sound his breathing kept; - Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, - But feeds on the aërial kisses - Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses. - He will watch from dawn to gloom - The lake-reflected sun illume - The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, - Nor heed nor see, what things they be; - But from these create he can - Forms more real than living man, - Nurslings of immortality!... - - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - - - 352. "MY A DILDIN." - -This, 353, 355 and 356 are four more Singing-Game Rhymes, worn down -into almost nonsensical jingle by multitudinous tongues in long long -usage. (See No. 41, page 36). - -And--since in my humble opinion it is not easy to get too much of this -kind of good thing--here is another: - - Bobby Shaft is gone to sea, - With silver buckles at his knee; - When he'll come home he'll marry me, - Pretty Bobby Shaft! - - Bobby Shaft is fat and fair, - Combing down his yellow hair; - He's my love for evermair, - Pretty Bobby Shaft! - - - 352. "WE ARE COME TO COURT." - - King Edelbrode cam owre the sea, - _Fa la lilly_. - All for to marry a gay ladye, - _Fa la lilly_. - - Her lilly hands, sae white and sma', - _Fa la lilly_. - Wi' gouden rings were buskit braw, - _Fa la lilly_.... - -And here is a Bride of Elizabeth's day whom I chanced on in that packed -and inexhaustible book, _Shakespeare's England_. When "buskit braw," -she must have been as lovely to see as a hawthorn in May or a wax -candle in a silver shrine: - -"The bride being attired in a gown of sheeps russet, and a kirtle of -fine worsted, her head attired with a billiment of gold, and her hair -as yellow as gold hanging down behind her, which was curiously combed -and pleated, according to the manner in those days: she was led to -church between two sweet boys, with bride-laces and rosemary tied about -their silken sleeves.... Then was there a fair bride-cup of silver and -gilt carried before her wherein was a goodly branch of rosemary, gilded -very fair, hung about with silken ribands of all colours: next was -there a noise of musicians, that played all the way before her: after -her came all the chiefest maidens of the country, some bearing great -bride-cakes, and some garlands of wheat, finely gilded, and so she -passed to the Church." - -As for the silken ribands they may have been of Drakes colour or Ladies -blush or Gozelinge colour or Marigold or Isabel or Peas porridge tawny -or Popingay blew or Lusty gallant, but they were certainly not Judas -colour, Devil in the hedge, or Dead Spaniard. - - - 355. "AND FEED HER WI' NEW MILK AND BREAD." - - The Yellow-haired Laddie sat down on yon brae, - Cries--Milk the ewes, Lassie! let nane o' them gae! - And ay she milked, and ay she sang-- - The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman! - And ay she milked, and ay she sang-- - The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!... - - ALLAN RAMSAY - - - 357. QUOTH JOHN TO JOAN. - -This old song, which was set to music in the reign of Henry VIII., -comes (like Dallyaunce of No. 35), out of a Morality Play, _Lusty -Juventus_, the author of which is said to be one "R. Wever," whose body -has now for many a century been slumbering on in its cocoon. - - - 358. MILK-WHITE FINGERS, CHERRY NOSE. - -This is the only poem I have ever seen in which the midmost feature of -a pretty face is compared to a cherry. And yet a frosty morning must -have given many a dainty nose that fair bright coral colour. - -So too, Bob Cherry, in these lines _To His Lady_: - - Black-heart were mine to love not thy - White-heart so sweet and tender; - Be kind, my dear, for--Summer by-- - What fruits hath cold December? - - - 359. "OR THE BEES THEIR CAREFUL KING." - -In old times the "Governor" of a Bee Hive was sometimes referred to as -the King and sometimes as the Queen. The choice depended in part on -which kind of monarch was on the throne. There is an entrancing story -of the middle ages, told by Mr. Tickner Edwardes in his book on the -Honey Bee. - -"A certaine simple woman, on finding that her bees were storing little -honey for her and were perishing of "the murraine," stole one of the -holy wafers from the priest, and for miraculous remedy concealed it -in one of her hives. "Whereupon the Murraine ceased and the Honie -abounded. The Woman, therefore lifting up the hive at the due time to -take out the Honie, saw there (most strange to be seene) a Chappell -built by the Bees, with an altar to it, the wals adorned by marvellous -skill of architecture, with windowes conveniently set in their places: -also a doore and a steeple with bells. And the Host being laid upon -the altar, the Bees making a sweet noise, flew around it." Apart from -"the singing masons building roofs of gold," the gluttonous drones, -the sentries, wax-makers, bread-kneaders, nurses, etc., there are the -Queen's Ladies-in-waiting. "For difference from the rest they beare -for their crest a tuft or tossell, in some coloured yellow, in some -murrey, in manner of a plume; whereof some turne downward like an -Ostrich-feather, others stand upright like a Hern-top." But for truths -even stranger than fantasy regarding bees and their kind, go to Henri -Fabre. - - - 360. "AND HERE, AND HERE." - - As Flora slept and I lay waking, - I smiled to see a bird's mistaking, - For from a bough it down did skip - And for a cherry pecked her lip.... - - - 362. "MY HEART IS GLADDER THAN ALL THESE." - - How many times do I love thee, dear? - Tell me how many thoughts there be - In the atmosphere - Of the new fall'n year, - Whose white and sable hours appear - The latest flake of eternity: - So times do I love thee, dear! - - How many times do I love again? - Tell me how many beads there are - In a silver chain - Of evening rain - Unravelled from the tumbling main, - And threading the eye of a yellow star: - So many times do I love again! - - THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES - - - 363. - -The word screen (line 4) means, I think, "Hide and shelter those smiles -away that in their beauty seem to burn in the air": for all beauty -resembles radiance in its influence on the mind. And this recalls to -memory Southwell's poem, _The Burning Babe_, No. 256. - - - 364. "A SONNET OF THE MOON." - -The closer one looks at and examines a fine _sonnet_--its way of -rhyming, its rise, poise, flight and fall, the ease and exactitude with -which what is said in it fills its mould or form--the more, I was going -to say, one should hesitate before attempting to write another. This -particular sonnet (like No. 361), is of the English or Shakespearean -kind, and is so lovely a thing that only a close attention would notice -the carelessness of its rhymes. No. 342 is an example of the form which -our sixteenth century poets borrowed from Italy. Comparison of them -shows that, as with the old Chinese ginger jars, so in poetry: not only -is the syrup delightful, but even the pot may be interesting. - -Coleridge wrote few sonnets, and this is his explanation of the length -one must be: "It is confined to fourteen lines, because as some -particular number is necessary, and that particular number must be a -small one, it may as well be fourteen as any other number. When no -reason can be adduced against a thing, Custom is a sufficient reason -for it." - -When I read this last remark for the first time it was as if my mind -had been startled into attention as one's body is when it collides -with a stranger in the street. There is a wide wisdom in it. How many -natural, human and delightful things there are in this world indeed for -which Custom is a sufficient reason: Children, for instance, daisies -in the grass, skylarks in the clouds, dreams in sleep, rhymes, gay -clothes, friendship, laughter. - - - "THE PALE QUEEN." - -There is the apparition of a lovely face in the Moon--proud and -mute--to be discovered by careful eyes usually on the extreme right of -the disc, her own eyes gazing towards the left. - - - 368. "IT WAS IN AND ABOUT THE MARTINMAS TIME." - -This old Scottish song was a favourite of Oliver Goldsmith's in his -childhood. "The music of the finest singer," he said, "is dissonance -to what I felt when our old dairy-maid sung me into tears with _Johnny -Armstrong's Last Good-night_, or _The Cruelty of Barbara Allen_. - -As with the Scottish ballads so with this last poem--it is the brevity -and bareness with which the story is told and is not told that sets it -apart. Without one express word to prove it so, we know that Sir John -had always loved the proud Barbara even though he had spoken lightly of -her, and that she too had always loved him, though she refuses the word -that would have saved his life. - - - 371. "I NEVER HAD BUT ONE TRUE LOVE, IN COLD GRAVE SHE WAS - LAIN." - -Yet another tragic and sorrowful poem of which, to some fancies, there -may be too many in this book already. Well, here is the story of the -beautiful Princess Uillanita: She cared only for flowers white and -colourless as dew in the first light of day, or as laundered linen -blanching on a hedge of thorn. And she came one still evening, when she -was in search of what she could not find, to a valley wherein a forest -gloomed above a deep but placid river. Within the forest, refreshed by -the mists of the river, grew none but flowers blue and dark and purple, -and such was the young Princess's hatred of them that she covered her -eyes with her hands, fled on, and so lost her way. - -In the middle of the night and long after she had wept herself to -sleep, the wailing of a nocturnal bird pierced into her dreams, and she -woke to find one solitary star of the colourlessness of Vega shining -alone in radiance in the space of sky betwixt the branches above her -head. Its thin ray silvered down--spearlike in its straightness--and -of a beam easily sufficing to irradiate a tiny clustering flower -which stood scarcely visible in the moss at her hand's side, and was -drenching the air with its fragrance. It was a flower utterly strange -to her, whiter than hoarfrost, fairer than foam. - -The enravished Princess gazed spellbound. "Why," whispered she to -herself, in the quiet of the dark gigantic forest; "if I had not wept -at the flowers of this sombre forest, if I had not lost my way, if I -had not been moved in my sleep to awaken, I never should have seen this -crystal thing; that is lovelier than I deemed Paradise itself could -bring to bloom." And she kissed the thin-spun petals, and happily fell -again asleep. - - - 372. "A LAMENT." - -Only two stanzas out of six, and these, maybe, a little difficult in -the old Scots: - - Depart, depart, depart! - Alas! I must depart - From her that has my heart - With heart full sore; - Against my will indeed - And can find no remede-- - I wait the pains of death-- - Can do no more.... - - Adieu mine own sweet thing, - My joy and comforting, - My mirth and solacing - Of earthly gloir: - Farewell, my lady bright, - And my remembrance right, - Farewell, and have good night-- - I say no more. - - - 380. TO HELEN. - -Who "the wayworn wanderer" is, I am uncertain; but apart from its rare -music, how long a journey awaits the imagination in this poem, and how -closely inwoven is its thought. Yet it is said to have been written -when Poe was in his early 'teens. - - - 381. "THERE IS A LADY." - -Mr. Nahum's picture for this poem was of a little winged boy at -evening, his quiver of arrows on his back, his bow the perch of a -nightingale, and himself lying fast asleep under a hawthorn bush in -full flower--a narrow green sun-dappled river nearby, rosy clouds and -birds in the air, and strange snow-peaked hills afar. - - - "TILL I DIE." - - ... Only our love hath no decay; - This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday; - Running it never runs from us away, - But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day. - - JOHN DONNE - - - 383. "IT IS NOT SO." - - Silly boy 'tis ful Moon yet, thy night as day shines clearely. - Had thy youth but wit to feare, thou couldst not love so dearely. - Shortly wilt thou mourne when all thy pleasures are bereavèd; - Little knows he how to love that never was deceivèd.... - - Yet be just and constant still! Love may beget a wonder, - Not unlike a Summer's frost, or Winter's fatall thunder. - He that holds his Sweethart true, unto his day of dying, - Lives, of all that ever breathed, most worthy the envỳing. - - THOMAS CAMPION - - - 385. - -In this poem, as in all Christina Rossetti's work, there is a rhythm -and poise, a serpentining of music, so delicate that on clumsy lips it -will vanish as rapidly as the bloom from a plum. Indeed, each stanza is -like a branch (with its twigs) of a wild damson-tree, its wavering line -broken and beautified with bud, flower and leaf. And certainly as fresh -an air, and as clear a light, stirs and dwells in the poem as on the -tree itself in April. - - - 387. - -This is from Part II., Act II., Scene i. of "Zapolya." Glycine sings -unseen in a cavern--her voice comforting her lover wandering forlorn by -night "in a savage wood." - - - 389. - - For I'll cut my green coat a foot above my knee, - And I'll clip my yellow locks an inch below mine ee. - _Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny._ - - I'll buy me a white cut, forth for to ride, - And I'll go seek him through the world that is so wide. - _Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny._ - - - 391. "CHIMBORAZO, COTOPAXI." - -In medieval days it seems that a traveller here and there, happily -supposing the world to be a floating island of indiscoverable -dimensions, hung in the wilds of space, and not knowing that it was -merely an "oblate spheroid," would journey clean round it and so come -back, to his amazement, to the place from which he started. Here is -such an experience from Sir John Mandeville, in his own words: "It was -told that a certain worthy man departed some time from our Country for -to go search the World.... He passed India and the Isles beyond it, -where are more than 5000 Isles, and so long and for so many seasons he -went by Sea and Land, and so environed the World, that he came at last -to an Isle whereon he heard spoken his own language--a calling of oxen -in the Plough--such Words in fact as men were wont to speak to Beasts -in his own country. Whereof he greatly marvelled, knowing not how that -might be." For there--as if it were a ghost or spectre--_there_ was -the chimney of his own house smoking up into the clear morning air! -And what did he do, maybe? He stared; he sighed; he grew pale; he -shuddered: and--he turned back! - - - 392. "HALLO MY FANCY." - -For the first sight of this poem I most gratefully thank my friend Mr. -Ivor Gurney, though no doubt it was in Mr. Nahum's Book somewhere, and -I was too indolent at the time to copy it out. The poem was written -by William Cleland while he was still at St. Andrews. All else I -know of him is that he was born about 1661, and fell at Dunkeld in -1689. There is nothing in English to my knowledge that resembles -it. _Erra Pater_ (stanza 4) was the name given to a busy astrologer -and almanac-concocter, William Lilly, of the time. King Phalaris's -monstrous bull was of brass: he perished in it. - -By "the tapers" (stanza 2) is meant, I fancy, those phosphor-like fires -that gather on the yard-arms of ships at sea when the air is electric -with tempest. Sir Humphrey Gilbert's sailors were fearful at sight of -this apparition, and of a monster, too, that appeared swimming in the -waves beside their frigate, the _Squirrel_, a little before she and her -riding lights disappeared for ever. - -"... Men which all their life time had occupied the Sea, never saw -more outragious Seas. We had also upon our maine yard, an apparition of -a little fire by night, which seamen doe call Castor and Pollux. But we -had onely one, which they take an evill signe of more tempest.... The -same Monday night, about twelve of the clocke ... suddenly her lights -were out ... and withall our watch cryed, _the Generall was cast away_, -which was too true. For in that moment, the Frigat was devoured and -swallowed up of the Sea ..." - -As for Cupid (stanza 5), he is said to be the slyest archer that ever -shot arrow--and a dangerous child either to entertain (as the poem -proves that begins as follows): - - Cupid abroade was 'lated in the night, - His wings were wet with ranging in the raine; - Harbour he sought, to mee hee took his flight, - To dry his plumes I heard the boy complaine. - I opte the doore and graunted his desire, - I rose my selfe, and made the wagge a fire.... - -or--as yet another poem shows--to take as a scholar: - - I dreamt by me I saw fair Venus stand, - Holding young Cupid in her lovely hand, - And said, kind Shepherd, I a scholar bring - My little son, to learn of you to sing.... - -And last, the pelican (in stanza 7). She was supposed in old days to be -"the lovingest bird that is," since at need she would pierce her breast -with her bill to feed her young ones. The plaintive singing of the -dying swan I have never heard, except in Tennyson's words: - - The plain was grassy, wild and bare, - Wide, wild, and open to the air, - Which had built up everywhere - An under-roof of doleful gray. - - With an inner voice the river ran, - Adown it floated a dying swan, - And loudly did lament. - It was the middle of the day. - Ever the weary wind went on, - And took the reed-tops as it went.... - Some blue peaks in the distance rose, - And white against the cold-white sky, - Shone out their crowning snows. - - One willow over the river wept, - And shook the wave as the wind did sigh; - Above in the wind was the swallow, - Chasing itself at its own wild will, - And far thro' the marish green and still - The tangled water-courses slept, - Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow. - - Hearke canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan, - And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough.... - - _Othello_ - - - 393. "COLUMBUS'S DOOM-BURDENED CARAVELS." (line 13) - -"... The next day, Thursday, October 11, 1492, was destined to be for -ever memorable in the history of the world.... The people on the _Santa -Maria_ saw some petrels and a green branch in the water; the _Pinta_ -saw a reed and two small sticks carved with iron, and one or two other -pieces of reeds and grasses that had been grown on shore, as well as -a small board. Most wonderful of all, the people of the _Nina_ saw 'a -little branch full of dog roses';.... The day drew to its close; and -after nightfall, according to their custom, the crews of the ships -repeated the _Salve Regina_. Afterwards the Admiral addressed the -people and sailors of his ship, 'very merry and pleasant,'.... The moon -was in its third quarter, and did not rise until eleven o'clock. The -first part of the night was dark, and there was only a faint starlight -into which the anxious eyes of the look-out men peered from the -forecastles of the three ships. At ten o'clock Columbus was walking on -the poop of his vessel, when he suddenly saw a light right ahead. The -light seemed to rise and fall as though it were a candle or a lantern -held in some one's hand and waved up and down. The Admiral called Pedro -Gutierrez to him and asked him whether he saw anything; and he also -saw the light. Then he sent for Rodrigo Sanchez and asked him if he -saw the light; but he did not.... Dawn came at last, flooding the sky -with lemon and saffron and scarlet and orange, until at last the pure -gold of the sun glittered on the water. And when it rose it showed the -sea-weary mariners an island lying in the blue sea ahead of them: the -island of Guanahani; San Salvador.... - - _Christopher Columbus_, FILSON YOUNG - - - 395. "TO SEA, TO SEA." - - ... To the ocean now I fly, - And those happy climes that lie - Where day never shuts his eye. - Up in the broad fields of the sky; - There I suck the liquid air - All amidst the gardens fair - Of Hesperus, and his daughters three - That sing about the golden tree: - Along the crispèd shades and bowers - Revels the spruce and jocund Spring; - The Graces, and the rosy bosomed Hours, - Thither all their bounties bring; - There eternal Summer dwells, - And west winds, with musky wing, - About the cedared alleys fling - Nard and Cassia's balmy smells.... - But now my task is smoothly done, - I can fly, or I can run, - Quickly to the green earth's end, - Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend; - And from thence can soar as soon - To the corners of the moon. - Mortals, that would follow me, - Love Virtue; she alone is free: - She can teach ye how to climb - Higher than the sphery chime; - Or if Virtue feeble were, - Heaven itself would stoop to her. - - JOHN MILTON - - _Master._ Steersman, how stands the wind? - - _Steersman._ Full north-north-east. - - _Master._ What course? - - _Steersman._ Full south-south-west. - - _Master._ No worse, and blow so fair, - Then sink despair, - Come solace to the mind! - Ere night, we shall the haven find. - - JOHN DOWLAND - - - "CAVED TRITONS' AZURE DAY" (line 12) - ---Dark-fated Clarence in _King Richard III_. dreamt of that "azure day": - - ... As we paced along - Upon the giddy footing of the Hatches, - Me thought that Glouster stumbled, and in falling - Strooke me (that thought to stay him) over-board, - Into the tumbling billowes of the maine. - O Lord, methought what paine it was to drowne, - What dreadfull noise of water in mine eares, - What sightes of ugly death within mine eyes.... - Methought I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes: - A thousand men that Fishes gnawed upon: - Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heapes of Pearle, - Inestimable Stones, unvalewed Jewels, - All scattered in the bottome of the Sea. - Some lay in dead-men's Sculles; and in the holes - Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, - (As 'twere in scorne of eyes) reflecting Gemmes, - That wooed the slimy bottome of the deepe, - And mocked the dead bones that lay scattred by.... - - - 396. "JEWELS MORE RICH THAN ORMUS SHOWS." - - (line 20) - -Mr. Nahum's picture to this was of a man clothed in rags that must -once have been rich and pompous. He sits, in the picture, gnawing his -nails upon a heap of what appears to be precious stones and lumps of -gold. All around him stretch the sands of the seashore, and there is -a little harbour with a decayed quay, its river-mouth silted up with -ooze and flotsam, so that nothing but a row-boat could find entrance -there. An immense sun burns in the sky; and, though a thread of fresh -water flows nearby, the man among the jewels seems to be tormented with -thirst. For Ormus, or Hormuz, on its narrow island of wild-coloured -rocks, date-palms, parrots and many birds, was once the rich mart -and treasure-house between Persia and India--spices, pearls, ivory, -gold, precious stones, and, in particular, the diamond, being its -merchandise. In 1507 the Portuguese Conqueror Alfonso Albuquerque stole -it from its dark princes. In 1622 Shah Abbas the Great razed it to the -ground. To-day it is but a waste, inhabited by a few fishermen and -diggers, its only commodities--that once were gems--salt and sulphur; -while still in the height of its Summer blows Julot, Harmatan, Il -Sirocco, the Flame-Wind, so deadly in its breath that the troops of -an army of 1600 horsemen and 6000 foot, says Marco Polo, marching to -punish the city for neglecting to pay tribute to the King of Kîrman, -and camping overnight without its walls, were baked next noon as dry -as pumice, and not a voice among them to tell the tale, though their -bodily shape and colour seemed to appearance unchanged. To protect -themselves against this Julot, the citizens of Ormus would build huts -of sheltering osier-work over the water, and in the heat of the morning -would stand immersed in its coolness up to the chin. - - - "APPLES" (line 23) - ---these are pineapples, the "price" of the next line meaning -excellence. "Ambergris" (line 28), is a rare and costly stuff which, as -its name tells, resembles grey amber. It has a wondrously sweet smell, -was once used in cooking, and is disgorged by the whale that supplies -the world with the comforting ointment of childhood called Spermaceti. - -In Shakespeare's day, Marvell's "remote Bermudas" were known as the -"Isle of Divels"--because of the nocturnal yellings, cries and yelpings -that were reported to haunt them. English sailors, wrecked and cast -away on Great Bermuda in 1709, however, brought home in their boats of -cedar-wood the news that this wild music was caused (at least in part) -by descendants of the hogs that had been left there by the long-gone -Spaniard, Juan Bermudez and his men! They told, too, that it was an -island fair and commodious, of a gentle climate, and a sweet-smelling -air; and Shakespeare almost certainly had its enchantments in -mind when he wrote of Ariel, Caliban and Miranda. Was not Ariel in -Prospero's more solitary days called up at midnight "to fetch dewe from -the still-vext Bermoothes"? - -To the Puritan voyagers of Andrew Marvell's poem the Islands were as -welcome and angelic as the Hesperides. And no poet could better tell -of them than he. For in Marvell's verse dwells a curious happiness, -like sunshine on a pool of water-lilies. Yet he, too, like other -dreamers, was a man of affairs, and of endless industry and zeal. He -was thrice Member of Parliament for his birthplace, Kingston-on-Hull, -and, with Milton, was one of Oliver Cromwell's Latin Secretaries. John -Aubrey describes him as "of a middling stature, pretty strong sett, -roundish face, cherry-cheek't, hazell eie, brown hair. He was in his -conversation very modest, and of very few words. And though he loved -wine, he would never drink heartilie in company, and was wont to say, -that, _he would not play the good fellow in any man's company in whose -hands he would not trust his life_.... He lies interred under the pewes -in the south side of St. Giles' church-in-the-fields, under the window -wherein is painted in glass a red lyon...." And there George Chapman, -William Shirley, and Lord Herbert of Cherbury share his rest. - - - 397. "THAT TALKATIVE BALD-HEADED SEAMAN CAME." - - (line 23) - - "... And now my name; which way shall lead to all - My miseries after, that their sounds may fall - Through your ears also, and shew (having fled - So much affliction) first, who rests his head - In your embraces, when, so far from home, - I knew not where t' obtain it resting room: - I am Ulysses Laertiades, - The fear of all the world...." - - _The Odysseys_, GEORGE CHAPMAN - - - 398. - -The prose "argument" to the "Ancient Mariner," which is almost as rare -a piece of reading as the Rime itself, has been omitted. But here is -a fragment of it relating to the passage on pages 390-4: "...The -Wedding-Guest feareth that a Spirit is talking to him; but the ancient -Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his -horrible penance. He despiseth the creatures of the calm, and envieth -that _they_ should live, and so many lie dead. But the curse liveth -for him in the eye of the dead men. In his loneliness and fixedness -he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still -sojourn, yet still move onward; and every where the blue sky belongs to -them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their -own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are -certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival. - -"By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great -calm--their beauty and their happiness. He blesseth them in his heart. -The spell begins to break. By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient -Mariner is refreshed with rain. He heareth sounds and seeth strange -sights and commotions in the sky and the element. The bodies of the -ship's crew are inspired and inspirited, and the ship moves on; but not -by the souls of the men, nor by dæmons of earth or middle air, but by -a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the -guardian saint...." - -"Daemons of earth or middle air" have been told of also by land -travellers--by Friar Odoric, for example, in the account of his journey -through Cathay during the years 1316-1330: - -"Another great and terrible thing I saw. For, as I went through a -certain valley which lieth by the River of Delights, I saw therein many -dead corpses lying. And I heard also therein sundry kinds of music, but -chiefly nakers, which were marvellously played upon. And so great was -the noise thereof that very great fear came upon me. Now, this valley -is seven or eight miles long; and if any unbeliever enter therein he -quitteth it never again, but perisheth incontinently. Yet I hesitated -not to go in that I might see once for all what the matter was. And -when I had gone in I saw there, as I have said, such numbers of corpses -as no one without seeing it could deem credible. And at one side of the -valley, in the very rock, I beheld as it were the face of a man very -great and terrible, so very terrible indeed that for my exceeding great -fear my spirit seemed to die in me. Wherefore I made the sign of the -cross, and began continually to repeat VERBUM CARO FACTUM, -but I dared not at all to come nigh that face, but kept at seven or -eight paces from it. And so I came at length to the other end of the -valley, and there I ascended a hill of sand and looked around me. But -nothing could I descry, only I still heard those nakers to play which -were played so marvellously. And when I got to the top of that hill I -found there a great quantity of silver heaped up as it had been fishes' -scales, and some of this I put into my bosom. But as I cared nought -for it, and was at the same time in fear lest it should be a snare to -hinder my escape, I cast it all down again to the ground. And so by -God's grace I came forth scathless. Then all the Saracens, when they -heard of this, showed me great worship, saying that I was a baptised -and holy man. But those who had perished in that valley they said -belonged to the devil." - - As an Arab journeyeth - Through a sand of Ayaman, - Lean Thirst, lolling its cracked tongue, - Lagging by his side along; - And a rusty wingèd Death - Grating its low flight before, - Casting ribbèd shadows o'er - The blank desert, blank and tan: - He lifts by hap to'rd where the morning's roots are - His weary stare,-- - Sees, although they plashless mutes are, - Set in a silver air - Fountains of gelid shoots are, - Making the daylight fairest fair; - Sees the palm and tamarind - Tangle the tresses of a phantom wind;-- - A sight like innocence when one has sinned - A green and maiden freshness smiling there, - While with unblinking glare - The tawny-hided desert crouches watching her.... - - _The Mirage_, FRANCIS THOMPSON - - Thou to me art such a spring - As the Arab seeks at eve, - Thirsty from the shining sands; - There to bathe his face and hands, - While the sun is taking leave, - And dewy sleep is a delicious thing. - - Thou to me art such a dream - As he dreams upon the grass, - While the bubbling coolness near - Makes sweet music in his ear; - And the stars that slowly pass - In solitary grandeur o'er him gleam. - - Thou to me art such a dawn - As the dawn whose ruddy kiss - Wakes him to his darling steed; - And again the desert speed, - And again the desert bliss, - Lightens thro' his veins, and he is gone! - - GEORGE MEREDITH - - - 399. "HE TOLD OF WAVES." (line 28) - -So, too, does the Ship's Captain in yet such another ore-loaden poem -of the marvellous, "The Sale of St. Thomas," by Lascelles Abercrombie, -telling how the saint in terror of the unknown would turn back from his -mission, is rebuked by his Master, and sold by him for twenty pieces of -silver to the Captain of a slant-sailed vessel bound for the barbarous -Indies. Here is but a fragment of the poem: - - "... _A Ship's Captain._ You are my man, my passenger? - - _Thomas._ I am. - I go to India with you. - - _Captain._ Well, I hope so. - There's threatening in the weather. Have you a mind - To hug your belly to the slanted deck, - Like a louse on a whip-top, when the boat - Spins on an axle in the hissing gales? - - _Thomas._ Fear not. 'Tis likely indeed that storms are now - Plotting against our voyage; ay, no doubt - The very bottom of the sea prepares - To stand up mountainous or reach a limb - Out of his night of water and huge shingles, - That he and the waves may break our keel. Fear not; - Like those who manage horses, I've a word - Will fasten up within their evil natures - The meanings of the winds and waves and reefs. - - _Captain._ You have a talisman? I have one too; - I know not if the storms think much of it. - I may be shark's meat yet. And would your spell - Be daunting to a cuttle, think you now? - We had a bout with one on our way here; - It had green lidless eyes like lanterns, arms - As many as the branches of a tree, - But limber, and each one of them wise as a snake. - It laid hold of our bulwarks, and with three - Long knowing arms, slimy, and of a flesh - So tough they'ld fool a hatchet, searcht the ship, - And stole out of the midst of us all a man; - Yes, and he the proudest man upon the seas - For the rare powerful talisman he'd got. - And would yours have done better? - - _Thomas._ I am one - Not easily frightened. I'm for India...." - - - 400. "PARROTS OF SHRILLY GREEN" - ---this gaudy and longevous bird, that seems to contain all the wisdom -of Solomon and more than the craft of Cleopatra in his eye, perched -first upon England many centuries ago. Skelton speaks of him: - - My name is parrot, a bird of Paradise ... - With my becke bent, my little wanton eye, - My fethers fresh, as is the emrawde grene, - About my neck a circulet, lyke the ryche rubye, - My little legges, my fete both nete and cleane.... - -And so, too, John Maplet, a "naturalist" who in 1567 wrote _A Greene -Forest_: - -"The Parret hath all hir whole bodie greene, saving that onely about -hir necke she hath a Coller or Chaine naturally wrought like to Sinople -or Vermelon. Indie hath of this kinde such as will counterfaite redily -a mans speach: what wordes they heare, those commonly they pronounce. -There have bene found of these that have saluted Emperours...." - -But which Emperors, and when and to what end he does not relate. -A parrot of price indeed would be she that had held converse with -"Ozymandias, king of kings." - - - 402. "THE MARCH OF TIME." (line 2) - - Say, is there aught that can convey - An image of its transient stay? - 'Tis an hand's breadth; 'tis a tale; - 'Tis a vessel under sail: - 'Tis a courser's straining steed; - 'Tis a shuttle in its speed; - 'Tis an eagle in its way, - Darting down upon its prey; - 'Tis an arrow in its flight, - Mocking the pursuing sight; - 'Tis a vapour in the air; - 'Tis a whirlwind rushing there; - 'Tis a short-lived fading flower; - 'Tis a rainbow on a shower; - 'Tis a momentary ray - Smiling in a winter's day; - 'Tis a torrent's rapid stream; - 'Tis a shadow; 'tis a dream; - 'Tis the closing watch of night, - Dying at approaching light; - 'Tis a landscape vainly gay, - Painted upon crumbling clay; - 'Tis a lamp that wastes its fires, - 'Tis a smoke that quick expires; - 'Tis a bubble,'tis a sigh: - Be prepared, O Man! to die. - -They are like strings of precious stones, rosaries, these Tudor -laments, one image following another, and however sad in colour, all -making beauty: - - As withereth the primrose by the river, - As fadeth summer's sun from gliding fountains, - As vanisheth the light-blown bubble ever, - As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains: - So melts, so vanisheth, so fades, so withers, - The rose, the shine, the bubble, and the snow, - Of praise, pomp, glory, joy, which short life gathers, - Fair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle joy. - The withered primrose by the mourning river, - The faded summer's sun from weeping fountains, - The light-blown bubble vanishèd for ever, - The molten snow upon the naked mountains, - Are emblems that the treasures we uplay, - Soon wither, vanish, fade, and melt away.... - - - 403. "THE WILD HYAENA." (line 11) - -In old times it was believed that if a hungry hyaena or jaccatray--who -cannot wry his neck "because his backbone stretches itself out to the -head"--dreams, he dreams so vividly that he calls into his sleeping -brain a vision of the beasts he covets for prey. And this vision is so -lifelike that he howls out of his sleep in mockery of the beasts--and -thus decoys them to his den! He is a nocturnal scavenger, haunting -graveyards, and "when" says Lyly, he "speaketh lyke a man," he -"deviseth most mischief." - - - 404. "IN XANADU DID KUBLA KHAN." - -"Now, this lord (the Great Caan)," says Friar Odoric in his _Cathay_, -"passeth the summer at a certain place which is called SANDU, situated -towards the north, and the coolest habitation in the world. But in the -winter season he abideth in Cambalech. And when he will ride from the -one place to the other this is the order thereof. He hath four armies -of horsemen, one of which goeth a day's march in front of him, one at -each side, and one a day's march in rear, so that he goeth always as -it were, in the middle of a cross. And marching thus, each army hath -its route laid down for it day by day, and findeth at its halts all -necessary provender. But his own immediate company hath its order of -march thus. The king travelleth in a two-wheeled carriage, in which is -formed a very goodly chamber, all of lign-aloes and gold, and covered -over with great and fine skins, and set with many precious stones. And -the carriage is drawn by four elephants, well broken in and harnessed, -and also by four splendid horses, richly caparisoned. And alongside -go four barons, who are called CUTHE, keeping watch and ward over the -chariot that no hurt come to the king. Moreover, he carrieth with him -in his chariot twelve gerfalcons; so that even as he sits therein upon -his chair of state or other seat, if he sees any birds pass he lets -fly his hawks at them. And none may dare to approach within a stone's -throw of the carriage, unless those whose duty brings them there. And -thus it is that the king travelleth." - - - "A SUNLESS SEA." - -Our English eyes, loving light, weary a little of the short cold days -in our country, when the sun makes "winter arches." Sadder still would -be our state in the regions told of by Marco Polo in the following -passage: - -"Beyond the most distant part of the territory of the Tartars, ... -there is another region [thick set with dark impenetrable woods] which -extends to the utmost bounds of the north, and is called the Region -of Darkness, because during most part of the winter months the sun -is invisible, and the atmosphere is obscured to the same degree as -that in which we find it just about the dawn of day, when we may be -said to see and not to see. The men of this country are well made and -tall, but of a very pallid complexion. They are not united under the -government of a king or prince, and they live without any established -laws or usages, in the manner of the brute creation. Their intellects -also are dull, and they have an air of stupidity. The Tartars often -proceed on plundering expeditions against these people, to rob them of -their cattle and goods. For this purpose they avail themselves of those -months in which the darkness prevails, in order that their approach may -be unobserved; but, being unable to ascertain the direction in which -they should return homeward with their booty, they provide against the -chance of going astray by riding mares that have young foals at the -time, which latter they suffer to accompany the dams as far as the -confines of their own territory, but leave them, under proper care, at -the commencement of the gloomy region. When their works of darkness -have been accomplished, and they are desirous of revisiting the region -of light, they lay the bridles on the necks of their mares, and suffer -them freely to take their own course. Guided by maternal instinct, they -make their way directly to the spot where they had quitted their foals; -and by these means the riders are enabled to regain in safety the -places of their residence." - - - 406. "ONE HELD A SHELL UNTO HIS SHELL-LIKE EAR." - - (line 6) - - ... Gather a shell from the strown beach - And listen at its lips: they sigh - The same desire and mystery, - The echo of the whole sea's speech. - And all mankind is thus at heart - Not anything but what thou art: - And Earth, Sea, Man, are all in each. - - DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI - - - 407. "LIKE SOLEMN APPARITIONS LULLED SUBLIME TO EVERLASTING - REST." (line 11) - - ... In the caves of the deep--lost Youth! lost Youth!-- - O'er and o'er, fleeting billows! fleeting billows!-- - Rung to his restless everlasting sleep - By the heavy death-bells of the deep, - Under the slimy-drooping sea-green willows, - Poor Youth! lost Youth! - Laying his dolorous head, forsooth, - On Carian reefs uncouth-- - Poor Youth! - On the wild sand's ever-shifting pillows!... - - O could my Spirit wing - Hills over, where salt Ocean hath his fresh headspring - And snowy curls bedeck the Blue-haired King, - Up where sweet oral birds articulate sing - Within the desert ring-- - Their mighty shadows o'er broad Earth the Lunar - Mountains fling, - Where the Sun's chariot bathes in Ocean's fresh headspring-- - O could my Spirit wing!... - - GEORGE DARLEY - - Full fathom five thy Father lies, - Of his bones are Corrall made: - Those are Pearles that were his eies, - Nothing of him that doth fade, - But doth suffer a Sea-change - Into something rich, and strange: - Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell-- - _Ding dong_. - Harke now I heare them, _ding-dong bell_. - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - - 411. "THE GOLDEN VANITY." - -This is a patchwork of stanzas from three versions of the old ballad. -In one version the "Golden Vanity" is said to be the "Sweet Trinity," -and to have been built by Sir Walter Raleigh in the Netherlands. -According to yet another, the Cabin-boy, after threatening to sink the -"Goulden Vanitie" as he had "sunk the French gallee," is taken on board -and the Captain and merchant adventurers proved "far better than their -word." But if stanza 12 is any witness, this seems unlikely. Can one -not actually _see_ the cold faces mocking down upon the water? - - - 412. - -To an eye and ear new to them, these old Scottish ballads may seem a -little difficult and forbidding. But read on, and their enchantment has -no match--the very strangeness of the words, the rare music, the colour -and light and clearness and vehemence, and, besides these, a wildness -and ancientness like that of an old folk-tune which seems to carry with -its burden as many lost memories as an old churchyard has gravestones. -The stories they tell are world wide. How they came into that world -(for of some of them there are as many as twenty to thirty different -versions), how they have fared in their long journey, and even when and -by whom they were made, are still questions on which even scholars are -not yet agreed. - -"Kevels" in line 5 of "Brown Robyn," means _lots_, and recalls a far -older story: - -"Now the word of the Lord came unto Jonah the son of Amittai, saying, -Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for their -wickedness is come up before me. But Jonah rose up to flee unto -Tarshish from the presence of the Lord, and went down to Joppa; and he -found a ship going to Tarshish, so he paid the fare thereof, and went -down into it, to go with them unto Tarshish from the presence of the -Lord. But the Lord sent out a great wind into the sea, and there was a -mighty tempest in the sea, so that the ship was like to be broken. Then -the mariners were afraid, and cried every man unto his god, and cast -forth the wares that were in the ship into the sea, to lighten it of -them. But Jonah was gone down into the sides of the ship; and he lay, -and was fast asleep.... And they said every one to his fellow, Come, -and let us cast lots, that we may know for whose cause this evil is -upon us. So they cast lots, and the lot fell upon Jonah.... Then said -they unto him, What shall we do unto thee, that the sea may be calm -unto us? for the sea wrought, and was tempestuous. And he said unto -them, Take me up, and cast me forth into the sea; so shall the sea be -calm upon you: for I know that for my sake this great tempest is upon -you.... So they took up Jonah, and cast him forth into the sea; and the -sea ceased from her raging." - - - 415. "A SEAL MY FATHER WAS." - -Notes of music for the enticement of seals, with other beautiful old -Gaelic airs and poems and tales, will be found in Journals 23/5 of The -Folk-Song Society, collected by Mr. Martin Freeman. - - - 418. "SIR PATRICK SPENCE." - -The longer version of the ballad into which the genius of Sir Walter -Scott wove a few new stanzas is the better known. But this, I think, is -the best. Indeed, the secret art of this naked and lovely poetry seems -nowadays to be lost: its marvel is how much it tells by means of the -little it says. - - - "LATE, LATE YESTREEN." (stanza 7) - -With money in his pocket and bewaring of glass, the Man of -Superstitions bows low and seven times to the new moon. If he sees a -dim cindrous light filling in the circle of which this crescent is the -edge, he "looks out for squalls"--the new moon has "the auld moone in -hir arme." That light is the earth-shine. The sun illumines the earth; -the earth like a looking-glass reflects his radiance upon the moon; -and she thus melancholily returns it; whereas the silver blaze on her -eastern edge is light direct: eyes looking upward thence into her black -skies are lit with her prodigious mornings. - - - 419. "ALLISON GROSS." - -Here I have changed only two words of the original. - - - 420. "SIR HUGH." - -If this ballad tells of a fact, then the young Sir Hugh was beguiled -out of his life by the dark beautiful Jewess in the year 1255. The -story comes from a monastery, and it is historically certain that the -wealthiest Jews of Lincoln were in this year crucified on this charge. -True or false, what a clear, pellucid picture the ballad builds up in -the imagination--the ancient town; the boys at their game; the narrow, -gabled, cobbled streets; the evening gold on roof and wall; night; -lamentation; and the clanging of the bells. - - - 421. "EDWARD." - -The spelling of this ballad usually begins "Why dois your brand sae -dripp wie bluid," and so on. This spelling Professor Child thought -"affectedly antique." But since, as he says, mere antiquated "spelling -will not make an old ballad, so it will not _un_make one." And "Edward" -in any guise is "one of the noblest" of the popular ballads. Here it -is, then, in our own spelling for proof. - - - 422. "I WILL SING." - -The king in the third line is James the Sixth of Scotland and the First -of England--the king, according to the old waggery, "who never said a -foolish thing and never did a wise one." But see Green. The "wanton -laird of young Logie" is John Wemyss who plotted against him with the -Earl of Bothwell in 1592. His bold, crafty and merry young wife, May -Margaret, says Mr. Sidgwick, had one of these four delectable maiden -names--Vinstar, Weiksterne, Twynstoun, or Twinslace. It is dubious -which. - -All ladies in those old days carried knives at their girdles. The one -in stanza 8 was clearly a wedding gift. And to judge from the ballads, -doughty uses they sometimes put them to. - - - 423. "FAIR ANNIE." - -In the margins of Mr. Nahum's copy of this ballad, two exquisite -damosels were painted in green, blue and amethyst on gold (as in a -monk's work), and between their fingers hung a linen napkin seemingly -broidered with pearls and in the midst of it a sleeping dove. Whatever -he may have meant by this, I confess that at first reading I fell -in love with both these ladies. My feelings for the "noble knight" -who ransomed fair Annie, then wearied of her, were different. It -was strange to find a noble knight so hard a gentleman, not so much -because he wearied of her (since to weary of one so true, intelligent -and tender was even more of a punishment than a misfortune) but most -particularly, with regard to his craving for "gowd and gear." He -reminds me of a similar piece of humanity described in three short -stanzas which were found by Mr. Macmath written on the fly-leaf of a -little volume printed at Edinburgh about 1670, and which _I_ found in -Child's Ballads: - - "He steps full statly on the street, - He hads the charters of him sell, - In to his cloathing he is complete, - In Craford's mure he bears the bell.... - - "I wish I had died my own fair death, - In tender age, when I was young; - I would never [then] have broke my heart - For the love of any churl's son. - - "Wo be to my parents all, - That lives so farr beyond the sea! - I might have lived a noble life, - And wedded in my own countrée." - - - 425. "BUT THINK NA' YE MY HEART WAS SAIR?" - - (line 21) - - - Down in yon garden sweet and gay - Where bonnie grows the lily, - I heard a fair maid sighing say, - "My wish be wi' sweet Willie!" - - "Willie's rare, and Willie's fair, - And Willie's wondrous bonny; - And Willie hecht to marry me - Gin e'er he married ony. - - "O gentle wind, that bloweth south - From where my Love repaireth, - Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth - And tell me how he fareth! - - "O tell sweet Willie to come doun - And hear the mavis singing, - And see the birds on ilka bush - And leaves around them hinging. - - "The lav'rock there, wi' her white breast - And gentle throat sae narrow; - There's sport eneuch for gentlemen - On Leader haughs and Yarrow. - - "O Leader haughs are wide and braid - And Yarrow haughs are bonny; - There Willie hecht to marry me - If e'er he married ony. - - "But Willie's gone, whom I thought on, - And does not hear the weeping - Draws many a tear frae's true love's e'e, - When other maids are sleeping. - - "Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid, - The night I'll mak' it narrow, - For a' the lee-lang winter night - I lie twined o' my marrow. - - "O came ye by yon water-side? - Pu'd you the rose or lily? - Or came you by yon meadow green, - Or saw you my sweet Willie?" - - She sought him up, she sought him down, - She sought him braid and narrow; - Syne, in the cleaving of a crag, - She found him drowned in Yarrow! - -_Hecht_ (line 6) means vowed; _haughs_ are water-meadows; and to be -twined o' one's marrow, is to be separated from one's loved one. - - - 427. THE TWA SISTERS. - -Here is another ballad--"The Water o Wearie's Well,"--of a similar -pattern. But in this the drowner of the King's daughters himself finds -a "watery grave": - - There came a bird out o a bush, - On water for to dine, - An sighing sair, says the king's daughter, - "O wae's this heart o mine!" - - He's taen a harp into his hand, - He's harped them all asleep, - Except it was the king's daughter, - Who one wink couldna get. - - He's luppen on his berry-brown steed, - Taen 'er on behind himsell, - Then baith rede down to that water - That they ca Wearie's Well. - - "Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, - No harm shall thee befall; - Oft times I've watered my steed - Wi the water o Wearie's Well." - - The first step that she steppèd in, - She stepped to the knee; - And sighend says this lady fair, - "This water's nae for me." - - "Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, - No harm shall thee befall; - Oft times I've watered my steed - Wi the water o Wearie's Well." - - The next step that she stepped in, - She stepped to the middle; - "O," sighend says this lady fair, - "I've wat my gowden girdle." - - "Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, - No harm shall thee befall; - Oft times have I watered my steed - Wi the water o Wearie's Well." - - The next step that she steppèd in, - She stepped to the chin; - "O," sighend says this lady fair, - "They sud gar twa loves twin!" - - "Seven king's daughters I've drownd there, - In the water o Wearie's Well, - And I'll make you the eight o them, - And ring the common bell." - - "Since I am standing here," she says, - "This dowie death to die, - One kiss o your comely mouth - I'm sure wad comfort me." - - He louted him oer his saddle bow, - To kiss her cheek and chin; - She's taen him in her arms twa, - And thrown him headlong in. - - "Since seven king's daughters ye've drowned there, - In the water o Wearie's Well, - I'll make you bridegroom to them a', - An ring the bell mysell." - - And aye she warsled, and aye she swam, - And she swam to dry lan; - She thankèd God most cheerfully - The dangers she oercame. - - - 428. "SWEET WILLIAM AND MAY MARGARET." - - _Hermione._ Come Sir, now I am for you againe: - Pray you sit by us, and tell's a Tale. - - _Mamillius_ (her son). Merry, or sad, shal't bee? - - _Hermione._ As merry as you will. - - _Mamillius._ A sad Tale's best for Winter: - I have one of Sprights, and Goblins. - - _Hermione._ Let's have that, good Sir. - Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best - To fright me with your Sprights: you're powrefull at it. - - _Mamillius._ There was a man.... - - _Hermione._ Nay, come sit downe: then on. - - _Mamillius._ Dwelt by a Churchyard: - I will tell it softly, - Yond Crickets shall not heare it. - - _Hermione._ Come on then, and giv't me in mine eare.... - - _The Winter's Tale_ - - - 429. "THAT BIRK GREW FAIR ENEUGH." (stanza 6) - -The strangest feature of these ballads is that the stories they tell, -the customs, beliefs, lore they refer to, may be found scattered up and -down all over the world. In Russia, for one small instance, the birk or -birch tree is honoured in this fashion: A little before Whitsuntide, -says Sir James Fraser in _The Golden Bough_, the young women, with -dancing and feasting, cut down a living birch-tree, deck it with bright -clothes or hang it with ribbons; then set it up as an honoured guest in -one of the village houses. On Whit Sunday itself they fling it, finery -and all, into a stream for a charm. - -And now for England: "Thirty years ago," says Mrs. Wright, "it was -still customary in some west-Midland districts to decorate village -churches on Whit Sunday with sprigs of birch stuck in holes bored in -the tops of the pews. I can remember this being done by an old village -clerk in Herefordshire, but when he was gathered to his fathers in the -same profession, the custom died with him." How happy must he have been -then--as happy as for that one evening was the Wife of Usher's Well -herself--to lift his eyes upon a silver birch brushing with its green -tresses the very gates of Paradise! - - - 433. "A SPANGLE HERE." - - Dew sate on Julia's haire, - And spangled too, - Like leaves that laden are - With trembling dew: - Or glittered to my sight, - As when the Beames - Have their reflected light, - Daunc't by the Streames. - - ROBERT HERRICK - -If the daisies are not to shut their eyes until Julia shut hers, should -they not most assuredly wait also until "dear love Isabella," shut -_hers_? She was the bosom friend and aunt of Marjorie Fleming, Sir -Walter Scott's little friend, who was born in 1803, and who, having -written her few tim-tam-tot little rhymes, died in 1811. And here is -Isabel: - - Here lies sweet Isabell in bed, - With a night-cap on her head; - Her skin is soft, her face is fair, - And she has very pretty hair; - She and I in bed lies nice, - And undisturbed by rats or mice; - She is disgusted with Mr. Worgan, - Though he plays upon the organ. - Her nails are neat, her teeth are white, - Her eyes are very, very bright; - In a conspicuous town she lives, - And to the poor her money gives; - Here ends sweet Isabella's story, - And may it be much to her glory. - - - 434. - -Bunyan's "Comparison" for this poem runs thus: - - Our Gospel has had here a Summers day; - But in its Sun-shine we, like Fools, did play, - Or else fall out, and with each other wrangle, - And did instead of work not much but jangle. - And if our Sun seems angry, hides his face, - Shall it go down, shall Night possess this place? - Let not the voice of night-Birds us afflict, - And of our mis-spent Summer us convict. - - - 437. - -From the "Songs of Innocence"; and this is from the "Songs of -Experience": - - When the voices of children are heard on the green - And whisp'rings are in the dale. - The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind, - My face turns green and pale. - - Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, - And the dews of night arise; - Your spring and your day are wasted in play, - And your winter and night in disguise. - -For to grow old and look back on one's childhood, though in much it -is a happy thing, may be also a thing full of dread and regret. The -old poets never wearied of bidding youth gather its roses, seize its -fleeting moments. But not all roses are fresh and fragrant in the -keeping, and "lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds." - - - 440. "AFTERWARDS." - -Every fine poem says much in little. It packs into the fewest possible -words--by means of their sound, their sense, and their companionship--a -wide or rare experience. So, in particular, with such a poem as this. -It tells of a man thinking of the day when he shall have bidden goodbye -to a world whose every live and lovely thing--Spring, hawk, evening, -wintry skies--he has dearly loved. And if what it tells of is to be -seen as clearly and truly as if it were before one's very eyes, it -must be read intently--all one's imagination alert to gather up the -full virtue of the words, and to picture in the mind each fleeting and -living object in turn. - -As I write these lines I cannot refrain from suggesting how thankful we -should be to be living in a day when three great poets, who have been -long in the world, are adding to the riches of English poetry--Thomas -Hardy, Charles Doughty, and the Poet Laureate, Robert Bridges. It is -but a little while, too, since the death of that exquisite writer, and -lover of all things true and beautiful, Alice Meynell, and of W. H. -Hudson, who was no less a poet because he wrote not in verse but in -prose. - -To compare the great things of one age with the great things of another -is an exceedingly difficult task (and to pit poet against poet, or -imagination against imagination, an exceedingly stupid one). But that -in Elizabeth's day England was indeed a "nest of singing birds" may -be realised by the fact that when Shakespeare was finishing his last -play, _The Tempest_, in the Spring, apparently, of 1611--when, that -is, he himself was aged 47 (and his Queen had been eight years dead), -Sir Walter Raleigh was 59, Anthony Munday 58, Samuel Daniel 49, -Michael Drayton 48, Thomas Campion 44, Thomas Dekker (?) 41, John Donne -and Ben Jonson were 38, John Fletcher was 32, Francis Beaumont 27, -William Drummond 26, John Ford 25, William Browne and Robert Herrick -20, Francis Quarles 19, George Herbert 18, Thomas Carew (?) 16, James -Shirley 15, and John Milton (and Sir John Suckling) were 2. It was -seven years before the birth of Richard Lovelace and Abraham Cowley, -ten before Marvell's, and eleven before Vaughan's. Edmund Spenser had -been twelve years dead, Sir Philip Sidney twenty-five--and Chaucer 211. - -Two hundred and fifty years afterwards--in 1861--another great queen -was on the Throne, Victoria. It was the year in which the Prince -Consort died, and Edward, Prince of Wales, came of age. Nor was -England's garden silent then: for in that year William Barnes and -Cardinal Newman were 60, Edward Fitzgerald and Tennyson were 52, Robert -Browning 49, Charles Kingsley 42, Matthew Arnold 39, Coventry Patmore -38, William Allingham 37, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and George Meredith -were 33, Christina Rossetti was 31, William Morris 27, Algernon -Swinburne 24, Mr. Thomas Hardy was 21, Mr. Robert Bridges 17, Robert -Louis Stevenson 11, and Francis Thompson was 2. Other great writers, in -English, then alive were Carlyle, Thackeray, Dickens, Ruskin, Darwin -and Huxley; Emerson, Hawthorne, Longfellow and Walt Whitman. So the -strange flame of genius fitfully burns in this world. And 1611 knew as -little of 1861 as 1861 knew of 2111. (But would that 1923 could leave -to the future one-tenth part of such a legacy as did 1611--the English -Bible!) - -But to return to Shakespeare. He was born in April 1564. About 1591 -he wrote the first of his plays, _Love's Labour's Lost_. By 1611 he -had finished the last of them; 34 in all as they appear in the first -Folio, 37 as they now appear in the Canon. And apart from these, his -Poems. There followed a strange silence. On the 25th of March, 1616, -"in perfect health and memory (God be praised!)," he made his will. -On St. George's Day, 1616, he died. To reflect for a moment on that -brief lifetime, on that twenty years' work which is now a perennial -fountain of happiness, light and wisdom to the whole world, is to -marvel indeed. The life-giving secret of this supreme genius none can -tell. We know not even our own. But there is a story told by Thomas -Campbell: "It was predicted of a young man lately belonging to one of -our universities, that he would certainly become a prodigy because he -read sixteen hours a day. 'Ah, but,' said somebody, 'how many hours -a day does he _think_?' It might have been added, 'How many hours -does he feel?'" So of Shakespeare. As, then, said his old friends and -fellow-players, John Heminge and Henry Condell in their Preface to the -Folio: "Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe: And if then you -doe not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger...." - - - 441. "WITH SUCH A SKY." - - It is a beauteous Evening, calm and free, - The holy time is quiet as a Nun - Breathless with adoration; the broad sun - Is sinking down in its tranquillity; - The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: - Listen! the mighty Being is awake, - And doth with his eternal motion make - A sound like thunder--everlastingly.... - - WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - - - 442. "SHEPHERDS ALL, AND MAIDENS FAIR, FOLD YOUR FLOCKS." - - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, - The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, - The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, - And leaves the world to darkness and to me. - - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, - And all the air a solemn stillness holds, - Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight. - And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:... - -These lines and the stanzas that follow them in the _Elegy in a Country -Churchyard_ are as familiar as any in English, and may be found in -almost every collection of poems. Here, "a figure on paper"--from a -letter to a friend written by the author of them, Thomas Gray, on -November 19, 1764, is a description--not of evening after the setting -of the sun--but of a sun-_rise_ as vivid as if one's own naked eye -had watched its "Levee": - -I must not close my letter without giving you one principal event of -my history; which was, that (in the course of my late tour) I set out -one morning before five o'clock, the moon shining through a dark and -misty autumnal air, and got to the sea-coast time enough to be at the -Sun's Levee. I saw the clouds and dark vapours open gradually to right -and left, rolling over one another in great smoky wreathes, and the -tide (as it flowed gently in upon the sands) first whitening, then -slightly tinged with gold and blue; and all at once a little line of -unsufferable brightness that (before I can write these five words) -was grown to half an orb, and now to a whole one, too glorious to be -distinctly seen. It is very odd it makes no figure on paper; yet I -shall remember it, as long as the sun, or at least as long as I endure. -I wonder whether anybody ever saw it before? I hardly believe it." - -So each day, one remembers, the sun rises, indeed is rising always -above _some_ watchful eye's horizon, and we come so to expect its -rising, and so to be assured of it, as though it were no less certain -than that twice two are four. But, in fact, it is only just certain -enough to prevent night from being a dreadful apprehension, and life -from becoming a mere routine. As Coleridge says in his _Table Talk_: - -"Suppose Adam watching the sun sinking under the western horizon for -the first time; he is seized with gloom and terror, relieved by scarce -a ray of hope that he shall ever see the glorious light again. The next -evening, when it declines, his hopes are stronger, but still mixed with -fear; and even at the end of a thousand years, all that a man can feel -is a hope and an expectation so strong as to preclude anxiety." - - ... High among the lonely hills, - While I lay beside my sheep, - Rest came down and filled my soul, - From the everlasting deep. - - Changeless march the stars above, - Changeless morn succeeds to even; - Still the everlasting hills - Changeless watch the changeless heaven.... - - CHARLES KINGSLEY - - - 444. "THE CHILDREN ARE GOING TO BED." - - Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon, croon, - Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon. - The Sheep are gane to the siller wood, - And the cows are gane to the broom, broom. - - And it's braw milking the kye, kye, - It's braw milking the kye, - The birds are singing, the bells are ringing, - And the wild deer come galloping by, by. - - And hush-a-ba, birdie, croon, croon, - Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon. - The Gaits are gane to the mountain hie, - And they'll no be hame till noon, noon. - -This for the littlest ones, the cradle-creatures. But for the rest: - - Boys and Girls, come out to play, - The Moon doth shine as bright as day; - Come with a whoop, come with a call, - Come with a goodwill or don't come at all; - Lose your supper and lose your sleep-- - So come to your playmates in the street. - -And if you should want actually to bring that Moon to earth, this is -how Quince managed it in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_: - - - THE REHEARSAL. - - _Snout._ Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our - play? - - _Bottom._ A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack, - finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine. - - _Quince._ Yes, it doth shine that night. - - _Bottom._ Why then may you leave a casement of the great - chamber window (where we play) open, and - the Moone may shine in at the casement. - - _Quince._ Ay, or else one must come in with a bush of - thorns and a lanthorne, and say he comes - to disfigure, or to present the person of - Moone-shine.... - - - THE PLAY. - - _Lysander._ Proceed, Moone. - - _Moone._ All that I have to say, is to tell you, that the - Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the - Moone; this thorne bush, my thorne bush; - and this dog, my dog.... - -And here is a stanza from a very old poem about that same "man in the -Moone": - - Mon, in the mone, stond ant streit, - On is bot-forke is burthen he bereth: - Hit is muche wonder that he na down slyt, - For doute leste he valle he shoddreth ant shereth: - When the frost freseth muche chele he byd, - The thornes beth kene is hattren to-tereth; - Nis no wytht in the world that wot wen he syt, - Ne, bote hit bue the hegge, whet wedes he wereth. - -which means, I gather, that - - the Man in the Moon stands up there stark and still in her - silver, carrying his thornbush on his pitchfork. It's a marvel - he doesn't slide down; he's shuddering and shaking at the - thought of it. When the frost sharpens, he'll be frozen to his - marrow. The prickles stick out to tear his clothes; but nobody - in the world has seen him sit down, or knows apart from his - thornbush what he has on. - - I see the Moon, - The Moon sees me; - God bless the sailors, - And bless me. - - - 449. "THAT BUSY ARCHER." (line 4) - - Though I am young and cannot tell - Either what Love or Death is well, - Yet I have heard they both bear darts - And both do aim at human hearts.... - - BEN JONSON - - - "ARE BEAUTIES THERE AS PROUD AS HERE THEY BE." - - (line 11) - -... The palace of her father the King, was on that side the Moon no -mortal sees, and of such an enchantment was her cold beauty that on -earth none resembles it. Yet all her flattery and pride was but to win -the idolatrous love of far-travelling Princes, or even of wanderers -of common blood; for the sake of that love and admiration only. And -many perished in those rock-bound deserts and parched and icy lunar -wildernesses on account of this proud damsel; before a strange fate -befell her.... - -Here, too, is a fragment (from a thirteenth century MS.), to be found -in _A Medieval Garner_: - -"What shall we say of the ladies when they come to feasts? Each marks -well the other's head; they wear bosses like horned beasts, and if any -have no horns, she is a laughing stock for the rest. Their arms go -merrily when they come into the room; they display their kerchiefs of -silk and cambric, set on their buttons of coral and amber, and cease -not their babble so long as they are in the bower.... But however well -their attire be fashioned, when the feast is come, it pleases them -nought; so great is their envy now and so high grows their pride, that -the bailiff's daughter counterfeits the lady.'" - - - 450. "SHE HATH NO AIR." (line 5) - ---and that being so: - -".... There will be no sounds on the moon.... Even a meteor shattering -itself to a violent end against the surface of the moon would make -no noise. Nor would it herald its coming by glowing into a 'shooting -star,' as it would on entering the earth's atmosphere. There will be -no floating dust, no scent, no twilight, no blue sky, no twinkling of -the stars. The sky will be always black and the stars will be clearly -visible by day as by night. The sun's wonderful corona, which no man on -earth, even by seizing every opportunity during eclipses, can hope to -see for more than two hours in all, in a long lifetime, will be visible -all day. So will the great red flames of the sun.... There will be no -life (since) for fourteen days there is continuous night, when the -temperature must sink away down towards the absolute cold of space. -This will be followed without an instant of twilight by full daylight. -For another fourteen days the sun's rays will bear straight down, with -no diffusion or absorption of their heat, or light, on the way...." - -This is a matter-of-fact fragment out of "The Outline of Science," -edited by Professor J. Arthur Thompson; but it would not be easy to say -exactly how in its magical _effect_ on the mind it differs from poetry. -Indeed, there can hardly be a quicker journey to the comprehension of -scientific fact than by way of the imagination. Moonless mountainous -Hesper, the Evening Star, is an even lovelier thing to watch shining in -the fading rose and green of sunset when we realise that at her most -radiant--a radiance that casts an earthly shadow even--it is but a -slim crescent of the planet that we see, a planet, too, almost sister -in magnitude to the earth, but whose briefer year is of an ardour -that might be happiness to fiery sprite and salamander, but would be -unendurable to watery creatures like ourselves. Nor could language be -used more scientifically (concisely, pregnantly and exactly), than in -the words _moving_, _human_, _mask_, in the following sonnet by John -Keats--a sonnet written in mortal illness and in immortal sorrowfulness: - - Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-- - Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night - And watching, with eternal lids apart, - Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, - The moving waters at their priestlike task - Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, - Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask - Of snow upon the mountains and the moors-- - - No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, - Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast, - To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, - Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, - Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, - And so live ever--or else swoon to death. - - JOHN KEATS - - - 455. "RIGHT GOOD IS REST." - - Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving - Lock me in delight awhile; - Let some pleasing dreams beguile - All my fancies: that from thence - I may feel an influence - All my powers of care bereaving! - - Though but a shadow, but a sliding, - Let me know some little joy! - We that suffer long annoy - Are contented with a thought - Through an idle fancy wrought: - O let my joys have some abiding! - - JOHN FLETCHER - - - 457. BEFORE SLEEPING. - -I have pieced this rhyme together from well-known versions and -fragments. But the Angels?-- - -"And after that, I sawe iiij Angels stande on the iiij corners of the -erth holdynge the foure wyndes of the erth, that the wyndes shuld not -blowe on the erth, nether on the see, nether on eny tree." - - The Revelation of S. John the Divine (1539). - -"And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the -throne and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them was ten -thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands." - - The Same (1611). - -Of these Angels, having their fitting place among the -hierarchies--Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones; Dominations, Virtues, Powers; -Principalities, Archangels, Angels--no names are given. But Michael -and Gabriel are archangels named in the Bible, and in the Apocrypha -and elsewhere, Raphael, Zadkiel, Uriel, Chamuel, Jophiel. These too; -steadfast or fallen: Samael, Semalion, Abdiel and gigantic Sandalphon, -Rahab, Prince of the Sea; Ridia, Prince of the Rain; Yurkemi, Prince of -the Hail; Af of Anger; Abaddona of Destruction; Lailah of Night. And in -_Paradise Lost_: - - Now had night measured with her shadowy cone - Halfway up-hill this vast sublunar vault; - And from their ivory port the Cherubim - Forth issuing, at the accustomed hour, stood armed.... - -Then speak together Gabriel, Uzziel, Ithuriel, Zephon. And last--not -the most distant from mortal love--strangely-angelled Poe's -shrill-tongued Israfel: - - In Heaven a spirit doth dwell - Whose heart-strings are a lute; - None sing so wildly well - As the angel Israfel, - And the giddy stars (so legends tell), - Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell - Of his voice, all mute.... - - Yes, Heaven is thine; but this - Is a world of sweets and sours; - Our flowers are merely--flowers, - And the shadow of thy perfect bliss - Is the sunshine of ours. - - If I could dwell - Where Israfel - Hath dwelt, and he where I, - He might not sing so wildly well - A mortal melody, - While a bolder note than this might swell - From my lyre within the sky. - - Oh speake againe bright angell, for thou art - As glorious to this night being ore my head, - As is a wingèd messenger of heaven - Unto the white upturned wondring eyes - Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him. - - _Romeo and Juliet_ - -In paint and wood and words and stone Man has for centuries made -pictures and images for symbols of angelic might and beauty. But what -does he know of these Beings in themselves?--"That there are distinct -orders of Angels, assuredly I believe, but what they are I cannot -tell.... They are creatures that have not so much of a body as flesh -is, as froth is, as a vapour is, as a sigh is; and yet with a touch -they shall moulder a rock into less atoms than the sand that it stands -upon, and a millstone into smaller flour than it grinds. They are -creatures made, and yet not a minute older than when they were first -made, if they were made before all measures of time begun; nor, if -they were made in the beginning of time, and be now six thousand years -old, have they one wrinkle of age in their face, one sob of weariness -in their lungs. They are _primogeniti Dei_, God's eldest sons...." - - JOHN DONNE - - - 459. - -This is the Song sung by his guardian Angel to a young sleeping Prince -who has been cheated of his inheritance. It was printed by Charles -Lamb in his _English Dramatic Poets_, from a Tragedy entitled _The -Conspiracy_, written by Henry Killigrew when he was seventeen. - - - 460. THE LEGEND OF ST. MARK. - -The relics of this Saint, who for his miracles was thought to be a -sorcerer, and was murdered by a mob, were interred in Alexandria. -Hundreds of years afterwards these relics were coveted by the Venetians -by reason of the story that the Saint had once visited their city and -had heard speak to him an angel: _Pax tibi, Marce. Hic requiescet -corpus tuum_. At length two Venetian merchants, having persuaded -the Alexandrians that the sacred bones lay in danger of the raiding -Saracens, travelled back with them to their own city, where they -were reinterred with solemn ceremony in St. Mark's. This church was -afterwards burned to the ground, and the relics were lost. A century -passed; a wondrously beautiful church had arisen from the ashes of -the old, and during the ceremony held in the faith that it would be -revealed where they lay hid, suddenly a light shone forth from one of -the great piers, there was a sound of falling masonry, and, lo, the -body of the Saint, with arm outstretched, as if at finger's touch he -had revealed his secret resting-place. - - - "DOVES OF SIAM, LIMA MICE, AND LEGLESS BIRDS OF PARADISE." (p. - 470.) - -What particular kinds of doves and mice Keats had in mind here I cannot -yet discover. But, according to Topsell, mice are of these kinds: the -short, small, fearful, peaceable, ridiculous, rustik, or country mouse, -the urbane or citty mouse, the greedy, wary, unhappy, harmefull, black, -obscene, little, whiner, biter, and earthly mouse. Mice, too, he says, -are "sometimes blackish, sometimes white, sometimes yellow, sometimes -broune and sometimes ashe colour. There are white mice amonge the -people of Savoy, and Dolphin in France, called alaubroges, which the -inhabitants of the country do beleev that they feede upon snow." Then, -again, "the field mouse, the farie, with a long snout; and the sleeper, -that is of a dun colour and will run on the edge of a sword and sleep -on the point." - -What Topsell meant by "whiner" I am uncertain, but it may be he refers -to the mouse that sings. That is a habit quite distinct from the common -squeaking, shrilling and shrieking. It resembles the slow low trill of -a very distant and sleepy canary, but sweeter and more domestic, and -is as pleasant a thing to hear behind a wainscot, as it is to watch -the creatures gambolling. Why women are apt to fear these tiny beasts -is a mystery. But whatever mischief their ravagings may cause, may I -never live under a roof wherein (Cat or no Cat) there is no inch of -house-room for Mistress Mouse! - -The fable that the Bird of Paradise is "legless" was set abroad by -travellers who had seen in old days its exquisite dismembered carcase -prepared for merchandise. It is hard to explain that Man, capable -of imagining a bird "whose fixed abode is the region of the air," -sustaining itself "solely on dew," can also slaughter it and tie it up -in bundles for feminine finery. But so it is. - - - "AT VENICE...." (p. 471) - -So Keats left--unfinished--this, one of the happiest of his poems. -There are others in this volume: but not the _Eve of St. Agnes_, or -_Hyperion_, or the odes, _to a Nightingale, on a Grecian Urn_, or the -strange _On Melancholy_. Nor are any of his Letters here--as full a -revelation of the powers and understanding of that rare mind, as the -poems are of his imagination. - - - 466. "LOW IN THE SOUTH THE 'CROSS'." - -We peoples of the Northern hemisphere, from the Chinese and Chaldaeans -until this last flitting hour have the joy of so many brilliant and -neighbouring stars in our night sky that for us it is now full of -stories, and thronged with constellations of our own fantasy and -naming. The Chair of Cassiopeia, for instance, is but a feigned passing -picture. Nevertheless, how pleasant it is to recognise it set zigzag -in the night. For this reason the peoples of the Southern hemisphere, -with their Crown and Net, their Phoenix and Peacock, hold dear the -Southern Cross. It marks their very home. - -And, once more, let me repeat what Miss Taroone said to me: Learn the -common names of every thing you see, Simon; and especially of those -that please you most to remember: then give them names also of your own -making and choosing--if you can. Mr. Nahum has thousands upon thousands -of words and names in his mind and yet he often fails to understand -what I say to him. Nor does he always remember that though every snail -is a snail and a Hoddydoddy, and every toad is a toad and a Joey, and -every centipede is a centipede and a Maggie-monyfeet, each is just as -much only its own self as you, Simon, are You. - - - 469. "ONCE A DREAM DID WEAVE A SHADE." - - Full in the passage of the vale, above, - A sable, silent, solemn, forest stood, - Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move, - As idless fancy'd in her dreaming mood; - And up the hills, on either side, a wood - Of blackening pines, ay waving to and fro, - Sent forth a sleepy horror thro' the blood; - And where this valley winded out, below, - The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow. - - A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, - Of Dreams that wave before the half-shut eye, - And of gay Castles in the clouds that pass, - For ever flushing round a summer sky.... - - JAMES THOMSON - - - 470. "AWAKE, AWAKE!" - -"I thank God for my happy dreams," wrote Sir Thomas Browne in the -_Religio Medici_, "as I do for my good rest.... And surely it is not a -melancholy conceit [or fancy] to think we are all asleep in this world, -and that the conceits of this life are as mere dreams to those of the -next as the phantasms of the night to the conceits of the day. There is -an equal delusion in both, and the one doth but seem to be the emblem -or picture of the other; we are somewhat more than ourselves in our -sleeps, and the slumber of the body seems to be but the waking of the -soul...." - - The Door of Death is made of gold, - That Mortal Eyes cannot behold; - But, when the Mortal Eyes are closed, - And cold and pale the Limbs reposed, - The Soul awakes; and, wondering sees - In her mild Hand the golden Keys: - The Grave is Heaven's golden Gate, - And rich and poor around it wait; - O Shepherdess of England's Fold, - Behold this Gate of Pearl and Gold!... - - I give you the end of a golden string; - Only wind it into a ball, - It will lead you in at Heaven's gate, - Built in Jerusalem's wall. - - WILLIAM BLAKE - - - 473. "DOES THE ROAD WIND UP-HILL ALL THE WAY." - - "Gentle herdsman, tell to me, - Of courtesy I thee pray, - Unto the town of Walsingham - Which is the right and ready way." - - "Unto the town of Walsingham - The way is hard for to be gone; - And very crooked are those paths, - For you to find out all alone...." - -Not so Babylon: - - How many Miles to Babylon? - _Three score and ten._ - Can I get there by candle-light? - _Ay: and back again._ - - - 477. - -This poem for its full beauty must be read very slowly. Eve in long -memory is musing within herself, hardly able to utter the words, -because of her grief and sorrow, and of the heavy sighs between them. - - - "DEATH IS THE FRUIT." - - I am Eve, great Adam's wife, - 'Tis I that outraged Jesus of old; - 'Tis I that robbed my children of Heaven, - By rights 'tis I that should have gone upon the Cross.... - - There would be no ice in any place, - There would be no glistening windy winter, - There would be no hell, there would be no sorrow, - There would be no fear, if it were not for me. - - TR. KUNO MEYER - - - "THE KIND HART'S TEARS WERE FALLING." (stanza 7) - - To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe, - Did steale behinde him as he lay along - Under an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out - Upon the brooke that brawles along this wood. - To the which place a poore sequestred Stag - That from the Hunter's aime had tane a hurt, - Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord - The wretched annimall heaved forth such groanes - That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat - Almost to bursting, and the big round teares - Coursed one another downe his innocent nose - In pitteous chase.... - - _As You Like It_ - - - 483. "THIS IS THE KEY." - -And so--like the mediaeval traveller who had made a complete circuit -of the world without knowing it--we have come back to the place which -we started from. "The Elephant," says Topsell, in his _Historie of -Foure-footed Beastes_, "is delighted above measure with sweet savours, -ointments, and smelling flowers, for which cause their Keeper will in -the summer time lead them into the meadows of flowers, where they of -themselves will by the quickness of their smelling, choose out and -gather the sweetest flowers, and put them into a basket if their Keeper -have any.... - -(Having sought) out water (wherewith) to wash themselves, (they will) -of their own accord return back again to the basket of flowers, which, -if they find not, they will bray and call for them. Afterward, being -led into their stable, they will not eat meat until they take off their -flowers and dress the brims of their manger therewith, and likewise -strew their room or standing place, pleasing themselves with their -meat, because of the savour of the flowers stuck about their cratch." -Mr. Nahum himself, it seems to me, might have written that. What was -his _Other Worlde_ but such "a Basket of Flowers": the forthshowing -in formal beauty--in this world's soil, and beneath ministering rain, -sunshine and dew--of the imaginations of men? Even Miss Taroone could -have uttered a secret word or two in the great ear of the Elephants at -their cratch: and were there not in her garden at Thrae flowers beyond -telling?--William Blake's: - - First ere the morning breaks joy opens in the flowery bosoms, - Joy even to tears.... First the Wild Thyme - And Meadow-sweet downy and soft waving among the reeds - Light springing on the air lead the sweet Dance: they wake - The Honeysuckle sleeping on the Oak: the flaunting beauty - Revels along upon the wind: the White-thorn, lovely May, - Opens her many lovely eyes: listening the Rose still sleeps: - None dare to wake her: soon she bursts her crimson curtained bed, - And comes forth in the majesty of beauty: every Flower, - The Pink, the Jessamine, the Wall-flower, the Carnation, - The Jonquil, the mild Lilly opes her heavens: every Tree - And Flower and Herb soon fill the air with an innumerable Dance. - Yet all in order sweet and lovely.... - -_And so, Farewell._ - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - AND SO FAREWELL - - - - - ACKNOWLEDGMENTS - - -For the use of copyright poems in this volume I have to thank--and most -gratefully I do so--the following authors and publishers:--Mr. Martin -Armstrong (and Mr. Martin Seeker); Mr. Lascelles Abercrombie (and Mr. -John Lane); Mr. Edmund Blunden (and Mr. Cobden Sanderson); Mr. H. H. -Bashford (Messrs. Harrap & Company and Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & -Company); Mrs. Bunston de Bary; Mr. Laurence Binyon (and Messrs. Elkin -Matthews); Mr. Hilaire Belloc (and Messrs. Duckworth & Company); Mr. -Robert Bridges (and Mr. John Murray); Mr. Gordon Bottomley; Mr. Padraic -Colum (Messrs. Maunsell & Roberts Ltd., and Messrs. the Macmillan -Company); Mr. William H. Davies (Mr. Jonathan Cape and Mr. Alfred A. -Knopf); the executors of the late Lord de Tabley; Mr. C. M. Doughty; -Mr. Edward L. Davison (and Messrs. G. Bell & Sons); Mr. Charles Dalmon -(and Messrs. Methuen & Company); Mr. John Drinkwater (Messrs. Sidgwick -& Jackson, and Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Company); Mr. Vivian Locke -Ellis; Mr. Robert Frost (and Messrs. Harcourt, Brace & Company); Mr. -John Freeman; Miss Eleanor Farjeon (Messrs. Selwyn & Blount, Messrs. -J. M. Dent & Sons, and Messrs. E. P. Dutton & Company); Mrs. Furse -(and Messrs. Constable & Company); Mr. Robert Graves; the Viscountess -Grey; Mr. Edmund Gosse; Mr. Wilfrid Gibson (Messrs. Elkin Mathews, and -Messrs. Macmillan & Company); Mr. Crosbie Garstin (and Messrs. Sidgwick -& Jackson); Mr. Thomas Hardy (and Messrs. Macmillan & Company); Mr. -Ralph Hodgson (and Messrs. Macmillan & Company); Miss Gwen John; Mr. -Rudyard Kipling (Messrs. Macmillan & Company, and Messrs. Doubleday, -Page & Company); Mr. Sidney Royse Lysaght (and Messrs. Macmillan & -Company); Mr. Harold Monro; Mr. John Masefield; Mrs. Manning-Sanders -(and Messrs. the Hogarth Tress); Mr. T. Sturge Moore (and Mr. Grant -Richards); Miss Charlotte Mew (Mr. Harold Monro and Messrs. the -Macmillan Company); Miss Viola Meynell; Sir Henry Newbolt; Mr. Alfred -Noyes (and Messrs. William Blackwood & Sons); Mr. Seumas O'Sullivan -(Messrs. Maunsell & Roberts); Mr. Conal O'Riordan; Mr. F. J. Patmore; -Miss Madeleine Caron Rock; Miss Lizette Woodworth Reese (and Mr. Thomas -B. Mosher); Mr. James Stephens (Messrs. Maunsell & Roberts and Messrs, -the Macmillan Company); Mr. Siegfried Sassoon; Miss Edith Sitwell (and -Mr. B. H. Blackwell); Mr. Edward Shanks (and Messrs. Collins, Sons -& Company); Mr. J. C. Squire (and Messrs. Hodder & Stoughton); Mrs. -Katharine Tynan Hinkson; Mr. Herbert Trench; Mr. Walter J. Turner (and -Messrs. Sidgwick & Jackson); Miss Elinor Wylie (and Messrs. Harcourt, -Brace & Company); Mr. Francis Brett Young (and Messrs. W. Collins, Sons -& Company); Mr. W. B. Yeats (Messrs. T. Fisher Unwin and Messrs. the -Macmillan Company). - -It is, too, a happy privilege to have been permitted to include poems -by Mrs. Webb, Mr. Eric Batterham, Mr. Gilbert Sheldon, Mr. Bernard -Sleigh, Miss Elizabeth Ramal, and Mr. Colin Francis which have not -hitherto appeared in any other published collection. - -My most grateful thanks are due also to Mr. Edward Marsh (Messrs. -Sidgwick & Jackson and Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Company) for two poems by -Rupert Brooke; to Mr. Clement Shorter for six poems by Emily Bronte, -and a poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter; to Sir Henry Newbolt for seven -poems by Mary Coleridge; to Mr. Cobden-Sanderson for three poems by -John Clare; to Mr. John Murray and to the executors of Canon Dixon for -two poems; to Mrs. Flecker (and Mr. Martin Seeker) for two poems by -James Elroy Flecker; to Lady Gomme for rhymes from "Traditional Games"; -to the Viscountess Grey for poems from "The White Wallet"; to Miss -Antonie Meyer (and Messrs. Constable & Company) for six translations -by Kuno Meyer; to Mrs. Meynell herself and to Mr. Wilfrid Meynell (and -Messrs. Burns & Oates) for three poems; to Mr. William Meredith and to -Messrs. Constable & Company for two poems by George Meredith; to Mrs. -Sharp for one poem by "Fiona Macleod" (William Sharp); to Miss Morris, -Mr. S. C. Cockerill (and Messrs. Longmans, Green & Company) for two -poems by William Morris; to Mrs. Owen for a poem by Wilfred Owen; to -Mrs. C. Patmore (and Messrs. G. Bell & Sons, Ltd.) for two poems by -Coventry Patmore; to Messrs. Macmillan & Company for eight poems by -Christina Rossetti; to Mr. Lloyd Osbourne (Messrs. Chatto & Windus -and Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons) for four poems by Robert Louis -Stevenson; to Mr. William Heinemann for a poem by Algernon Charles -Swinburne; to Miss E. Margaret Courtney Boyd for a poem by William Bell -Scott; to Mrs. Thomas (and Messrs. Selwyn & Blount) for seven poems by -Edward Thomas; to Mr. Wilfrid Meynell (and Messrs. Burns & Oates) for -three poems by Francis Thompson; to Messrs. P. J. and A. E. Dobell for -quotations from the writings of Thomas Traherne. - -For permission to use prose extracts, etc., which for the most part -have already been referred to on pages 497-668. I am gratefully -indebted to Dr. Blackman for his translation on Page 593; to Mr. Basil -Blackwell for first grateful sight of Bunyan's "Book for Boys and -Girls"; to Mrs. Child Sargent, Mr. George Lyman Kittredge and Messrs. -George G. Harrap & Company for selections from "English and Scottish -Popular Ballads"; to Mr. G. G. Coulton; to Dr. Courtenay Dunn and to -Messrs. Sampson Low, Marston & Company; to Messrs. J. M. Dent & Sons -for a quotation from "A Hind in Richmond Park" by W. H. Hudson; to -Mr. Tickner Edwardes (and Messrs. Methuen & Company); to Lady Gomme; -to Messrs. Longman for a quotation from "The Diary of Master William -Silence"; to Miss Emma Phipson (and Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench, -Trubner & Company); to Mr. H. M. Tomlinson; to Professor J. Arthur -Thompson (and Messrs. George Newnes); to Mrs. Wright; to Mr. W. B. -Yeats; and to Mr. Filson Young. Also to the Clarendon Press, and to the -Hakluyt Society. - -And I would ask forgiveness of any one whose rights I may have -inadvertently overlooked. - -For generous help, counsel and kindness, in the preparation of this -book it is a happiness to express my gratitude to many friends--to -Miss Naomi Royde Smith, Mr. Martin Freeman, Mr. J. W. Haines, Mr. -Gilbert Sheldon, Mr. Frank Morley, Mr. Forrest Reid, and to Mr. James -MacLehose; and, last, to my niece, Miss Lucy Rowley, to whom it owes -more than words can say. - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - INDEXES - - - - - INDEX OF AUTHORS - -[_Poems by writers whose names are unknown will be found marked with -an asterisk in the Index of Poems. In the following Index the names of -writers still living are similarly denoted._] - - - *Abercrombie, Lascelles, 154, 636 - - Allingham, William (1824-1889), 122, 520 - - *Armstrong, Martin 102 - - Aubrey, John (1626-1697), 568, 601 - - Augustine, St. (d. 604), 606 - - - Barnes, William (1801-1886), 272, 280, 282, 461, 540, 581, 594 - - Barnfield, Richard (1574-1627), 107 - - *Bashford, H. H., 80 - - *Batterham, Eric N., 259 - - Beaumont, Francis (1584-1616), 269, 599 - - Beddoes, Thomas Lovell (1803-1849), 380, 449, 624 - - *Belloc, Hilaire, 200 - - Best, Charles (fl. 1602), 354 - - *Binyon, Laurence, 197, 212 - - Blake, William (1757-1827), 22, 23, 42, 66, 66, 93, 98, 112, 140, - 161, 167, 198, 373, 450, 452, 453, 475, 476, 477, 507, 535, - 545, 652, 666, 668 - - Blunden, Edmund, 79 - - *Bottomley, Gordon, 410 - - Breton, Nicholas (1545?-1626?), 146 - - *Bridges, Robert, 234, 274, 462, 475, 504 - - Brontë, Emily (1818-1848), 225, 229, 277, 284, 449, 454 - - Brooke, Rupert (1887-1915), 172, 263 - - Browne, Sir Thomas (1605-1682), 665 - - Browne, William (1591-1643?), 151, 604 - - Bryant, William Cullen (1794-1878), 113 - - Buckhurst, Lord (1536-1608), 115 - - Bunyan, John (1628-1688), 111, 211, 451, 558, 582, 652 - - Burns, Robert (1759-1796), 50, 187 - - Burton, Robert (1577-1640), 548, 613 - - Byron, Lord (1788-1824), 464 - - - Callanan, Jeremiah John (1795-1829), 354 - - Campbell, Thomas (1777-1844), 89, 180, 571 - - Campion, Thomas (1567-1619), 150, 189, 482, 595, 628 - - Carbery, Ethna (d. 1902), 313 - - Carew, Thomas (1595?-1639?), 152 - - Cartwright, William (1611-1643), 101 - - Cellini, Benvenuto (1500-1571), 613 - - Chapman, George (1559?-1634), 635 - - Charles I. (1600-1649), 467 - - Chatterton, Thomas (1752-1770), 266 - - Chaucer, Geoffrey (1340?-1400), 14, 511, 544 - - Clare, John (1793-1864), 78, 207, 517 - - Cleland, William (1661?-1689), 376 - - Coleridge, Mary (1861-1907), 52, 106, 192, 318, 355, 367, 463 - - Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834), 24, 270, 331, 335, 337, 373, - 383, 405, 514, 516, 548, 611, 620, 625, 638 - - *Colum, Padraic, 52 - - Constable, Henry (1562-1613), 351 - - Corbet, Richard (1582-1635), 553 - - Cornish, William (fl. 1510), 17 - - Cowley, Abraham (1618-1667), 564 - - Cowper, William (1731-1800), 41, 49 - - Cunningham, Allan (1784-1842), 181, 239 - - - *Dalmon, Charles, 205, 355 - - Daniel, Samuel (1562-1619), 162 - - Darley, George (1795-1846), 643 - - Davenant, Sir William (1606-1668), 6, 596 - - *Davidson, Edward L., 172 - - *Davies, William H., 7, 38, 95, 145, 254, 402 - - Davies, Sir John (1569-1626), 566 - - Davison, Francis (fl. 1602), 81 - - *De Bary, Anna Bunston, 159 - - Dekker, Thomas (1570?-1641?), 253, 281 - - De Tabley, Lord (1835-1895), 364 - - Dixon, Richard Watson (1833-1900), 222, 224 - - Dobell, Sydney (1824-1874), 33, 44, 316 - - Donne, John (1573-1631), 628, 663 - - *Doughty, Charles M., 132 - - Drayton, Michael (1563-1631), 548, 557 - - *Drinkwater, John, 256, 298 - - Drummond, William (1585-1649), 162, 252, 585 - - Dunbar, William (1465?-1530?), 525 - - - Elliot, Jean (1727-1805), 188 - - *Ellis, Vivian Locke, 369 - - Emerson, R. W. (1803-1882), 562 - - - Farjeon, Eleanor, 120, 175, 236, 459, 465 - - Ferguson, Sir Samuel (1810-1886), 125 - - Flecker, James Elroy (1884-1915), 40, 382 - - Fleming, Margaret (1803-1811), 652 - - Fletcher, John (1579-1625), 360, 440, 457, 596, 599, 661 - - *Francis, Colin, 375 - - *Freeman, John, 39, 173 - - *Frost, Robert, 26, 587 - - *Furse, Margaret Cecilia, 563 - - - *Garstin, Crosbie, 474 - - *Gibson, Wilfrid, 403, 415 - - Gifford, Humphrey (fl. 1580), 168 - - Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-1774), 626 - - Googe, Barnabe (1540-1594), 91 - - *Gosse, Edmund, 318 - - Graves, John Woodcock (1795-1886), 139 - - *Graves, Robert, 109, 230, 407 - - Gray, Thomas (1716-1771), 655 - - Greene, Robert (1560-1592), 503 - - *Grey, Viscountess, 121 - - - Hamilton, John (1761-1814), 233 - - *Hardy, Thomas, 10, 26, 175, 176, 177, 273, 298, 455, 570 - - Hawes, Stephen (d. 1523?), 600 - - Hayman, Robert (d. 1631?), 189 - - Hemans, Felicia (1793-1835), 48 - - Herbert, George (1593-1633), 16, 451, 483 - - Herrick, Robert (1591-1674), 150, 208, 215, 219, 271, 292, 450, - 507, 510, 651 - - Heywood, Thomas (d. 1650?), 7 - - *Hodgson, Ralph, 110, 151, 454, 485 - - Hogg, James (1770-1835), 141 - - Hood, Thomas (1799-1845), 25, 295, 299, 361, 405, 583 - - Howe, Julia Ward (1819-1910), 170 - - Howitt, Mary (1799-1888), 94 - - Hudson, W. H. (1862-1923), 521 - - Hume, Alexander (1560?-1609), 144 - - - *John, Gwen, 239 - - Jonson, Ben (1573?-1637), 252, 319, 352, 462, 568, 658 - - - Keats, John (1795-1821), 107, 129, 220, 231, 256, 283, 380, 468, - 527, 545, 660 - - Killigrew, Henry (1613-1700), 467 - - King, Henry (1592-1669), 273 - - Kingsley, Charles (1819-1875), 225, 656 - - *Kipling, Rudyard, 297 - - Kirk, Robert (1641?-1692), 615 - - - Landor, Walter Savage (1775-1864), 365, 597, 604 - - Lindsay, Lady Anne (1750-1825), 362 - - Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth (1807-1882), 32, 533 - - Lovelace, Sir Richard (1618-1658), 535 - - Lydgate, John (1370?-1451?), 191, 503 - - Lyly, John (1554?-1606), 15 - - *Lysaght, Sidney Royse, 53 - - - MacGillivray, W. (1796-1852), 104 - - Macleod, Fiona (William Sharp) (1855-1905), 423 - - Macneill, Hector (1746-1818), 35 - - Mahony, Francis ("Father Prout") (1804-1866), 210 - - Mangan, James Clarence (1803-1849), 181 - - *Manning-Sanders, Ruth, 111, 340 - - Maplet, John (d. 1592), 639 - - Marriot, John (1780-1825), 270 - - Marvell, Andrew (1621-1678), 98, 149, 381 - - *Masefield, John, 27, 56 - - Mandeville, Sir John (d. 1372), 534, 561, 629 - - Meredith, George (1828-1909), 332, 638 - - *Mew, Charlotte, 309 - - Meyer, Kuno (Tr.), 70, 97, 193, 205, 231, 585, 667 - - Meynell, Alice (d. 1923) 214, 464, 472 - - Meynell, Viola, 409 - - Milton, John (1608-1674), 11, 130, 213, 632 - - *Monro, Harold, 9, 124 - - Montgomerie, Alexander (1556?-1610?), 4 - - *Moore, T. Sturge, 144 - - More, Sir Thomas (1478-1535), 603 - - Morris, William (1834-1896), 465, 481 - - Munday, Anthony (1553-1633), 81 - - - Nash, Thomas (1567-1601), 15, 261 - - *Newbolt, Sir Henry, 51, 178, 214 - - North, Sir Thomas (1535?-1601), 574 - - *Noyes, Alfred, 151 - - - Odoric, Friar (1286-1331), 636, 641 - - O'Keefe, John (1747-1833), 579 - - *O'Riordan, Conal, 605 - - *O'Sullivan, Seumas, 197 - - Overbury, Sir Thomas (1581-1613), 529 - - Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918), 173 - - - Patmore, Coventry (1823-1896), 473, 566 - - *Patmore, F. J., 541 - - Peacock, Thomas Love (1785-1866), 205, 268, 552 - - Pepys, Samuel (1633-1703), 505 - - Poe, Edgar Allan (1809-1849), 59, 320, 338, 365, 662 - - Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), 271 - - Plotinus (205?-270?), 507 - - Polo, Marco (1254-1323), 642 - - - Raleigh, Sir Walter (1552?-1618), 600 - - *Ramal, Elizabeth, 608 - - Ramsay, Allan (1686-1758), 623 - - Ravenscroft, Thomas (1592?-1635?), 120 - - *Reese, Lizette Woodworth, 277 - - Rhodes, Hugh (fl. 1555), 592 - - *Rock, Madeline Caron, 265 - - Rossetti, Christina (1830-1894), 251, 279, 280, 352, 368, 472, 483, 487 - - Rossetti, Dante Gabriel (1828-1882), 643 - - Rowlands, Richard (1565-1630?), 22 - - Rowley, William (1585?-1642?), 374 - - - *Sassoon, Siegfried, 171 - - Scott, Reginald (1538?-1599), 613 - - Scott, Alexander (1525?-1584?), 360 - - Scott, Sir Walter (1771-1832), 174, 185, 279, 330, 357 - - Scott, William Bell (1811-1890), 324 - - Shakespeare, William (1564-1616), 6, 74, 119, 121, 131, 143, 199, - 209, 224, 246, 247, 267, 361, 499, 505, 506, 510, 522, 530, - 533, 540, 553, 554, 579, 585, 610, 633, 643, 650, 655, 657, - 662, 667 - - *Shanks, Edward, 331 - - Sharp, William (Fiona Macleod) (1855-1905), 423 - - *Sheldon, Gilbert, 404 - - Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822), 8, 155, 156, 209, 223, 227, - 252, 254, 258, 341, 353, 404, 458, 464, 530, 542, 546, 621 - - Shorter, Dora Sigerson (d. 1918), 275 - - Sidney, Sir Philip (1554-1586), 352, 463, 500, 597, 601, 602 - - *Sitwell, Edith, 198 - - Skelton, John (1460?-1529), 37 - - *Sleigh, Bernard, 549 - - Southwell, Robert (1561?-1595), 242, 259 - - Spenser, Edmund (1552?-1599), 153, 190, 339, 491, 567 - - *Squire, J. C., 379, 422 - - Steele, Sir Richard (1672-1729), 519 - - *Stephens, James, 61, 96, 157 - - Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850-1894), 28, 31, 40, 54, 615 - - Suckling, Sir John (1609-1642), 580 - - Surrey, Earl of (1517?-1547), 472 - - Swinburne, Algernon Charles (1837-1909), 358 - - - Temple, Sir William (1628-1699), 578 - - Tennyson, Alfred, Lord (1809-1892), 105, 108, 122, 226, 314, 582, 630 - - Thomas, Edward (1878-1917), 53, 102, 113, 460, 474, 521, 557 - - Thomas the Rhymer (1220?-1297?), 550 - - Thompson, Francis (1859-1907), 262, 285, 637 - - Thomson, James (1700-1748), 665 - - *Tomlinson, H. M., 569 - - Topsell (d. 1638?), 537 - - Traherne, Thomas (1636?-1674), 160, 564 - - Trench, Herbert (1865-1923), 171 - - Trevisa, John de (1326-1412), 537 - - Turberville, George (1540?-1610?), 584 - - *Turner, Walter J., 295, 375, 408 - - *Tynan, Katharine, 49 - - - Vaughan, Henry (1622-1695), 283, 557 - - Vautor, Thomas (fl. 1619), 104 - - - Walton, Izaac (1593-1683), 505, 543 - - Watts, Isaac (1674-1748), 5 - - *Webb, Mary, 10, 106, 141 - - Webster, John (1610-1682), 264, 267, 268 - - Wedderburn, John (1500?-1556), 597 - - Whitman, Walt (1819-1892), 179 - - Wither, George (1588-1667), 202 - - *Woods, Margaret L., 539 - - Wordsworth, Dorothy (1771-1855), 220 - - Wordsworth, William (1770-1850), 103, 221, 234, 237, 276, 456, 655 - - Wotton, Sir Henry (1568-1639), 16 - - *Wright, Elizabeth M., 532, 559 - - *Wylie, Elinor, 236 - - - *Yeats, W. B., 296, 312, 608 - - *Young, Filson, 632 - - *Young, Francis Brett, 92 - - - - - INDEX OF POEMS - -[_An asterisk denotes that the name of the author of the poem is -unknown._] - - - TEXT NOTES - - *Adam lay i-bowndyn 489 - - Adieu! farewell earth's bliss! 261 _596_ - - *A dis, a dis, a green grass 203 - - After the blast of lightning from the east 173 - - Afterwards 455 - - Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh 330 - - Ah! sad wer we as we did peäce 272 _604_ - - Ah, what avails the sceptred race? 365 - - Alas, the moon should ever beam 295 - - Alice, dear, what ails you? 230 - - A little lonely child am I 423 _645_ - - A little Saint best fits a little Shrine 510 - - *All in this pleasant evening, together come are we 12 _501_ - - All looks be pale, hearts cold as stone 189 _574_ - - All my stars forsake me 464 - - All the flowers of the spring 268 _599_ - - *All under the leaves and the leaves of life 489 - - Amo, amas 579 - - *An' Charlie he's my darling 186 - - Ancient Mariner, The Rime of the 383 - - And as for me, thogh that I can but lyte 14 _502_ - - And in the midst of all, a fountaine stood 153 _564_ - - And like a dying lady, lean and pale 464 - - And now all nature seemed in love 16 _504_ - - And then I pressed the shell 61 - - And there were spring-faced cherubs that did sleep 408 _643_ - - Angel spirits of sleep 475 - - Annabel Lee 59 - - *Annan Water's wading deep 329 _614_ - - A piper in the streets to-day 197 - - Are they shadows that we see? 162 - - A Rose, as fair as ever saw the North 151 - - Art thou gone in haste? 374 _629_ - - Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? 253 - - As I in hoary winter's night 242 - - As it fell upon a day 107 _543_ - - *As I walked out one night 571 - - *As I was going by Charing Cross 188 - - *As I was walking all alane 109 - - *As I was wa'king all alone 293 - - As I wer readen ov a stwone 280 _605_ - - Ask me no more 152 _562_ - - *A sparhawk proud did hold in wicked jail 108 _543_ - - A sunny shaft did I behold 373 _628_ - - *As we dance round a-ring-a-ring 12 - - At common dawn there is a voice of bird 369 - - At the corner of Wood Street 103 _540_ - - Auld Robin Gray 362 - - Autumn 223 - - *A vision that appeared to me 70 _527_ - - Awake, awake, my little Boy! 477 _605_ - - A weary lot is thine, fair maid 185 - - A widow bird sat mourning for her love 252 - - *A wife was sitting at her reel ae night 618 - - *Ay me, alas, heigh ho, heigh ho! 91 _534_ - - - Before my face the picture hangs 259 _594_ - - Behold her, single in the field 221 - - Bells have wide mouths and tongues 211 _582_ - - Beneath our feet, the shuddering bogs 318 _610_ - - Bermudas 381 - - Best and brightest, come away! 155 - - Be thou at peace this night 172 - - *Bingo 89 - - Birds, The 112 - - Blow, blow, thou winter winde 247 - - Blows the wind to-day 54 _522_ - - *Bonny Barbara Allan 356 - - Break, break, break 226 - - Brief, on a flying night 214 - - Bright star, would I were stedfast 660 - - *Bring us in good ale 69 - - *Bring us in no browne bred 69 _526_ - - *Brown Robyn 420 - - *Buckee, Buckee, biddy Bene 292 - - Burning Babe, The 242 - - By Saint Mary, my lady 37 _518_ - - By the Moone we sport and play 120 _547_ - - - Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren 267 - - Call me no more, O gentle stream 51 - - *Cam' ye by the salmon fishers? 35 - - Cauld blows the wind frae north to south 233 - - Changeling, The 309 - - Cherrie Ripe, Ripe, Ripe, I cry 150 - - Cherry and pear are white 173 - - Child and the Mariner, The 402 - - Chimney Sweeper, The 42 - - Christabel 335 - - Christmas at Sea 31 - - Christ of His gentleness 109 - - Cities drowned in olden time 214 - - Close thine eyes and sleep secure 467 - - *Cold cold! 231 _586_ - - Cold in the earth 277 - - Come, Sleep 605 - - *Come to me, grief, for ever 269 _601_ - - Come to me in the silence of the night 472 - - Come unto these yellow sands 119 _546_ - - Come wary one, come slender feet 111 _544_ - - Coronach, The 174 - - Crystal Cabinet, The 373 - - - *Dalyaunce 28 - - Dark is the stair, and humid the old walls 212 - - Dear, dear, dear 104 - - Dear God, through Thy all-powerful hand 605 - - Death stands above me 597 - - Departe, departe, departe 360 _627_ - - Dew sate on Julia's haire 651 - - Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly 351 _624_ - - Does the road wind up-hill all the way? 483 _666_ - - *Down in yonder meadow 349 - - *Down in yon garden 647 - - Do you remember an Inn 200 _580_ - - Dreams, The Land of 477 - - D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so gray? 139 _556_ - - - Eagle, The 108 - - *Earl of Mar's Daughter, The 307 - - Easter 16 - - *Edward 430 - - Egypt's might is tumbled down 367 - - Encinctured with a twine of leaves 337 - - *English Gentleman, The 67 - - Eve of Saint Mark, The 468 - - Even such is Time 600 - - Eve, with her basket 485 - - - *Faht's in there? 293 _607_ - - *Fair Annie 434 - - Fairies 122 - - Fairies Feast, The 132 - - Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away 225 - - Feare no more the heate o' th' Sun 267 _599_ - - *Fine knacks for ladies! 74 - - Flowers of the Forest, The 188 - - Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow 482 - - *Four and twenty bonny boys 428 _646_ - - *Four men stood by the grave of a man 191 _574_ - - From noise of Scare-fires rest ye free 215 - - Full fathom five 643 - - - Gane were but the winter cauld 239 _587_ - - Garden, The 149 - - *Garden, The 492 - - Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning 125 _549_ - - *Gilderoy was a bonnie boy 82 _532_ - - Golden slumbers kiss your eyes 281 _605_ - - *Golden Vanity, The 418 - - Gone were but the Winter 251 - - Good-Morrow to the Day so fair 208 - - *Green Broom 147 - - - Hallo my Fancy 376 - - Hame, hame, hame, hame, fain wad I be 181 - - Hark! now everything is still 264 _597_ - - Haunted Palace, The 338 - - Hay, nou the day dauis 4 _497_ - - Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heaven's gate sings 6 - - Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell 331 - - He came and took me by the hand 151 - - He clasps the crag with crooked hands 108 - - He gave us all a good-bye cheerily 178 - - He is gone on the mountain 174 - - He is the lonely greatness of the world 265 _598_ - - *Helen of Kirkconnell 438 - - Helen, thy beauty is to me 365 _627_ - - Here a little child I stand 507 - - *Here comes a lusty wooer 346 _622_ - - Here lies a little bird 102 - - Here lies sweet Isabell 652 - - Here she lies, a pretty bud 271 _604_ - - Here she was wont to go, and here, and here! 352 _624_ - - *Here we bring new water 4 - - *Here we come a piping 11 - - Here where the fields lie lonely and untended 53 - - Her Eyes the Glow-worme lend thee 292 - - He sees them pass 259 _594_ - - *He that lies at the stock 466 - - *Hey, nonny no! 200 _580_ - - *Hey! now the day dawns 4 _497_ - - *Hey, Wully wine, and How, Wully wine 348 _623_ - - *Hie upon Hielands 43 _519_ - - His eyes are quickened so with grief 407 - - His stature was not very tall 503 - - Hohenlinden 180 - - Holy Thursday 66 - - Home, home, from the horizon far and clear 472 - - Home no more home to me, whither must I wander? 28 - - Ho, sailor of the sea! 33 - - How like an Angel came I down! 160 _454_ - - How lovely is the sound of oars at night 331 - - How many times do I love thee, dear? 624 - - How see you Echo? 121 - - How should I your true love know 361 - - How strange it is to wake and watch 473 - - How sweet I roamed from field to field! 161 - - *Hugh, Sir 428 - - - *I and my white Pangur 97 _536_ - - I'd a dream to-night 282 _606_ - - *I'd oft heard tell of this Sledburn fair 75 - - I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way 8 _499_ - - I dreamt a Dream! what can it mean? 475 - - I dug, beneath the cypress shade 268 - - If I had but two little wings 24 _510_ - - If I should ever by chance grow rich 521 - - I found her out there 273 _604_ - - If souls should only shine as bright 594 - - If there were dreams to sell 449 - - I got me flowers to straw thy way 16 _506_ - - I had a dove and the sweet dove died 107 - - I had a little bird 44 _519_ - - *I had a little nut tree 198 - - *I have a yong suster 58 - - I have beene all day looking after 319 _610_ - - I have seen old ships sail like swans asleep 382 _635_ - - *I have twelfe oxen that be faire and brown 148 _559_ - - I hear a sudden cry of pain! 96 - - I heard a soldier sing some trifle 171 _568_ - - I know a little garden-close 481 - - I know that all beneath the moon decays 585 - - *I'll sing you a good old song 67 _525_ - - I Loved a lass, a fair one 202 _580_ - - I love to rise in a summer morn 140 - - I met a traveller from an antique land 404 - - I met the Love-Talker one eve in the glen 313 - - Immortal Imogen crowned queen above 299 - - In a drear-nighted December 231 _585_ - - I never shall love the snow again 274 - - In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes 562 - - In melancholic fancy 376 _629_ - - In somer when the shawes be sheyne 143 _556_ - - In the greenest of our valleys 338 _621_ - - In the third-class seat sat the journeying-boy 26 - - In the wild October night-time 177 _570_ - - Into the scented woods we'll go 10 - - Invitation to Jane, The 155 - - In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 405 _641_ - - I remember, I remember 25 _511_ - - Irish harper and his dog, The 89 - - I saw a frieze on whitest marble drawn 408 _643_ - - *I saw a peacock with a fiery tail 294 _607_ - - I saw with open eyes 110 - - I see in his last preached and printed Booke 270 _602_ - - *I sing of a maiden 21 _510_ - - *It fell upon a Wodensday 420 _644_ - - It is an ancient Mariner 383 _635_ - - It was a' for our rightfu' king 187 - - *It was a jolly bed in sooth 501 - - It was a Lover and his lasse 199 _579_ - - *It was in and about the Martinmas time 356 _626_ - - *It was intill a pleasant time 307 - - It was many and many a year ago 59 _523_ - - It was not in the winter 361 - - I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking 188 _573_ - - I went out to the hazel wood 296 _608_ - - *I will sing, if ye will hearken 432 _646_ - - *I wish I were where Helen lies 438 - - I would not be the Moon, the sickly thing 463 _659_ - - - Jarring the air with rumour cool 154 - - John Peel 139 - - - Keith of Ravelston 316 - - Kubla Khan 405 - - - La Belle Dame sans Merci 129 - - Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I were 472 - - *Laird of Logie, The 432 - - *Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green 148 _560_ - - Lawne as white as driven Snow 74 _529_ - - Lay a garland on my hearse 360 - - Leave Taking, A 358 - - Leave me, O Love 597 - - Let us go hence, my songs 358 - - Let us walk in the white snow 236 _587_ - - Life of Life 353 _625_ - - Light the lamps up, Lamplighter 459 _657_ - - Little Black Boy, The 22 - - Little Fly 535 - - Little Lamb, who made thee? 93 - - *London Bridge is broken down 65 _524_ - - London Snow 234 - - Lonely, save for a few faint stars, the sky 197 _575_ - - Long ago I went to Rome 563 - - Look how the pale Queen of the silent night 354 _625_ - - Lord Rameses of Egypt sighed 256 _593_ - - Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back 483 - - *Love me not for comely grace 366 - - Lucy Gray 237 - - *Lully, lullay, lully, lullay 491 - - Lydia is gone this many a year 277 - - *Lyke-Wake Dirge, A 264 - - - Mad Maid's Song, The 208 - - Mariana 314 - - *Mary's gone a milking 71 _529_ - - *Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John 466 _661_ - - *May Song 12 - - *Mermaid, The 423 - - Messmates 178 - - Midnight was come, when every vital thing 115 - - Mine eyes have seen the glory 170 _567_ - - Mortality, behold and fear! 269 _600_ - - Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age 271 - - Much have I travelled in the realms of gold 380 - - Music, when soft voices die 209 _582_ - - *My clothing was once of the linsey woolsey fine 90 _533_ - - *My hand is weary with writing 558 - - My heart is like a singing bird 352 _624_ - - *My love he built me a bonnie bower 439 _647_ - - My love lies in the gates of foam 364 - - *My Luve's in Germany 184 - - My master hath a garden 492 - - *My mistress frowns when she should play 199 _576_ - - *My mistress is as fair as fine 351 - - My mother bore me in the southern wild 22 - - *My plaid awa', my plaid awa' 292 - - My true-love hath my heart, and I have his 352 - - - *Nay, Ivy, nay 245 _590_ - - Night-Piece, The 292 - - *Not full twelve years 596 - - Not soon shall I forget 49 - - *Now milkmaids' pails are deckt with flowers 71 _528_ - - Now some may drink old vintage wine 205 _581_ - - Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger 11 _500_ - - Now the hungry Lyon rores 131 _553_ - - *Now wolde I faine some merthÄ—s make 366 _628_ - - Nurse's Song, The 453 - - Nymph Complaining, The 98 - - Nymph, nymph, what are your beads? 124 - - - *O Allison Gross, that lives in yon towr 426 _646_ - - *O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray 523 - - Ode to the West Wind 227 - - O'Driscoll drove with a song 312 - - *Of all the birds that I do know 100 _538_ - - *O for a Booke and a shadie nooke 147 _558_ - - Of this fair volume which we World do name 162 _565_ - - Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray 237 - - Oh! call my brother back to me 48 - - *Oh! dear! what can the matter be? 75 _530_ - - Oh! poverty is a weary thing 94 _536_ - - Oh, sweet content 254 - - Oh the falling Snow! 236 - - *Oh, where are you going to, my pretty little dear? 206 _581_ - - O, I hae come from far away 324 _613_ - - Old Ships, The 382 - - O many a day have I made good ale in the glen 354 - - O Mary, go and call the cattle home 225 - - O Mother, lay your hand on my brow 40 - - O my dark Rosaleen 181 _572_ - - On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose 332 - - Once a dream did weave a shade 476 _665_ - - *Once I was a monarch's daughter 105 - - Once musing as I sat 91 _535_ - - Once upon a midnight dreary 320 _611_ - - Once when the sun of the year was beginning to fall 26 _512_ - - *One Friday morn when we set sail 421 - - *One king's daughter said to anither 57 _523_ - - One without looks in to-night 298 _608_ - - On first looking into Chapman's Homer 380 - - On Linden, when the sun was low 180 - - *On the first day of Christmas 589 - - On the green banks of Shannon 89 - - O sing unto my roundelay 266 - - O Sorrow 256 - - O that those lips had language! 41 - - O the evening's for the fair, bonny lassie O! 207 - - O Thou, who plumed with strong desire 341 _621_ - - O, to have a little house 52 - - Our King and Queen the Lord God Blesse 568 - - Our King went up upon a hill high 191 _574_ - - Out in the dark over the snow 474 - - Over the bleak and barren snow 375 - - *O whare are ye gaun? 334 _618_ - - O, what can ail thee, knight at arms 129 - - O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken? 355 - - *O wha will shoe my bonny foot? 519 - - *O where were ye, my milk-white steed 309 _609_ - - O, wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being 227 - - Oh yes, my dear 565 - - - Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day! 7 - - Pedlar's Song, The 74 - - Pleasure it is 17 _507_ - - *Poacher, The Lincolnshire 204 - - *Poor old Horse 90 - - Prayer unsaid, and Mass unsung 330 - - Prepare, prepare the iron helm of War 167 - - Proud Maisie is in the wood 357 - - - Queen and huntress, chaste and fair 462 - - *Queen of Elfland, The 127 - - Question, The 8 - - *Quo' the Tweed to the Till 425 - - *Quoth John to Joan 350 _623_ - - - Rarely, rarely, comest thou 254 - - Raven, The 320 - - Recollection, The 156 - - Remember me when I am gone away 280 - - *Remember us poor Mayers all 13 - - Reverie of Poor Susan, The 103 - - Rich in the waning light she sat 39 - - Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise 92 _536_ - - Rosaleen, Dark 181 - - Rose Aylmer 365 - - *Rosy apple, lemon, or pear 36 _516_ - - *Round about, round about 119 - - - Sabrina fair 130 _551_ - - Sands of Dee, The 225 - - Schoolboy, The 140 - - Seamen, three! What men be ye? 205 - - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness 220 _583_ - - Secret was the garden 285 - - *Seven lang years I hae served the King 347 - - *Seynt Stevene was a clerk 240 _587_ - - Shed no tear--O shed no tear! 283 - - *She is so proper and so pure 38 _518_ - - Shepherds all, and Maidens fair 457 _655_ - - Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night 450 _651_ - - Shy in their herding dwell the fallow deer 298 - - Sick Child, The 40 - - Silent are the woods 27 - - Silent is the house, all are laid asleep 284 - - *Silly Sweetheart, say not nay 345 - - *Sir Patrick Spence 425 - - *Sister, awake! close not your eyes 11 _501_ - - *Skip it and trip it 575 - - Sleep on, my Love, in thy cold bed 273 - - Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears 252 _592_ - - Sluggard, The 5 - - Soldiers, For 168 - - Solitary Reaper, The 221 - - Some folks as can afford 159 - - Somewhere, somewhen I've seen 403 _639_ - - Sorrow 256 - - So through the darkness and the cold we flew 234 - - So, we'll go no more a-roving 464 - - Sparrow, The Dead 101 - - Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king 15 _503_ - - Stepping Westward 456 - - Stop, Christian passer-by! 270 _604_ - - Stupidity Street 110 - - Swans, The Two 299 - - Sweet bird that shunn'st the noise of folly 213 - - Sweet Content 253 - - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright 451 - - Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content 38 _518_ - - Sweet Suffolk Owl, so trimly dight 104 _540_ - - *Sweet William and May Margaret 443 - - Swiftly walk o'er the western wave 458 - - - Tell me not of joy 101 _538_ - - Tell me where is fancie bred 209 - - That houses forme within was rude and strong 339 - - That wind, I used to hear it swelling 229 - - The aïr to gi'e your cheäks a hue 581 - - The ample heaven of fabrik sure 144 _557_ - - *The cheerful arn he blaws in the marn 138 - - The cleanly rush of the mountain air 56 - - The clouds have left the sky 462 - - The crooked paths go every way 157 - - The days are cold, the nights are long 220 _583_ - - The Door of Death 666 - - The Dragon that our Seas did raise his Crest 189 _573_ - - The evening sun was sinking down 449 - - The feathers of the willow 224 - - *The fort over against the oak-wood 193 _575_ - - The four sails of the mill 144 _556_ - - The fresh air moves like water round a boat 9 - - The gipsies lit their fires by the chalk-pit gate anew 79 - - The heaving roses of the hedge are stirred 222 - - *The Holly and the Ivy 243 _589_ - - The hunt is up, the hunt is up 137 _555_ - - The King of China's daughter 198 - - *The king sits in Dumferling toune 425 _645_ - - *The king's young dochter 576 - - The lake lay blue below the hill 106 _542_ - - The lark now leaves his watery nest 6 _498_ - - *The love that I hae chosen 363 - - The maiden caught me in the wild 373 - - The man of life upright 595 - - *The miller's mill-dog lay at the mill-door 89 _533_ - - *The moon's my constant mistress 291 _606_ - - The murmur of the mourning ghost 316 - - The myrtle bush grew shady 192 - - The night will never stay 465 - - The poplars are felled; farewell to the shade 49 _520_ - - *There came a bird out o a bush 649 - - *There came a ghost to Margret's door 443 _650_ - - *There cam' Seven Egyptians on a day 531 - - The red flame flowers bloom and die 474 _664_ - - There grew a goodly tree him faire beside 491 - - There is a Garden in her face 150 _561_ - - *There is a Lady sweet and kind 366 _628_ - - There is a silence where hath been no sound 405 _641_ - - *The reivers they stole Fair Annie 434 _646_ - - *There lived a wife at Usher's Well 445 _651_ - - There's no smoke in the chimney 52 - - *There was a gallant ship and a gallant ship was she 418 _644_ - - *There was a knicht riding frae the east 333 _615_ - - There was an Indian, who had known no change 379 _631_ - - *There was an old man lived out in the wood 147 - - There was no song nor shout of joy 422 - - *There were three gipsies a-come to my door 79 _531_ - - *There were twa brethren in the north 55 _523_ - - *There were twa sisters sat in a bowr 441 _649_ - - The sea would flow no longer 409 - - These hearts were woven of human joys and cares 172 _568_ - - The sheets were frozen hard 31 - - The smothering dark engulfs relentlessly 239 - - The snow falls deep; the forest lies alone 78 - - The snow had fallen many nights and days 410 - - The splendour falls on castle walls 122 - - The sun descending in the west 452 - - The Sun does arise 23 - - The trees of the elder lands 404 _640_ - - The twilight is sad and cloudy 32 - - The wanton Troopers riding by 98 _538_ - - The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing 223 - - *The wind doth blow to-day, my love 359 _626_ - - The wind's on the wold 465 _660_ - - They are all gone into the world of light! 283 - - They shut the road through the woods 297 - - They stole her from the well 549 - - *This ae nighte, this ae nighte 264 _598_ - - This city and this country 66 _525_ - - *This is the Key of the Kingdom 3 { _497_ - { _667_ - - This is the weather the cuckoo likes 10 - - This Life, which seems so fair 252 _592_ - - This sailor knows of wondrous lands afar 402 _638_ - - Thou Fair-haired Angel of the Evening 450 - - Though three men dwell on Flannan Isle 415 - - Thou hast come from the old city 340 - - Thou simple Bird what mak'st thou here to play? 111 - - Time, you old gipsy man 454 - - 'Tis the middle of night 335 _620_ - - 'Tis the voice of a sluggard; I heard him complain 5 _498_ - - To-day a rude brief recitative 179 _571_ - - Toll no bell for me, dear Father, dear Mother 309 _609_ - - *Tom o' Bedlam 291 - - *Tom Pearse, Tom Pearse, lend me your gray mare 76 _531_ - - To sea, to sea! The calm is o'er 380 _632_ - - *To yon fause stream 423 - - Trafalgar 177 - - *True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank 127 _550_ - - Turnstile, The 272 - - *Twa Corbies, The 109 - - *Twa Sisters, The 441 - - 'Twas on a Holy Thursday 66 - - Two Swans, The 299 - - Tyger! Tyger! burning bright 98 _538_ - - - Underneath an old oak tree 611 - - Under the after-sunset sky 113 - - Under the greenewood tree 143 - - Upon a dark ball spun in Time 295 - - Upon a Sabbath-day it fell 468 _663_ - - Upon my lap my sovereign sits 22 - - Up the airy mountain 122 _548_ - - Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away! 276 - - - *Wae's me, wae's me 332 _615_ - - Wake, all the dead! 596 - - War Song, A 167 - - Was it the sound of a footfall I heard? 608 - - Waterfowl, To a 113 - - Water Lady, The 295 - - *We are three Brethren come from Spain 346 - - We be the King's men, hale and hearty 175 _570_ - - Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan 440 - - Weep, weep, ye woodmen! 81 _532_ - - Weep you no more, sad fountain 282 - - *Wee Wee Man, The 293 - - *Welcome, fayre chylde, what is thy name? 28 _512_ - - We wandered to the Pine Forest 156 - - We were young, we were merry 318 - - Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy? 35 _516_ - - What bird so sings, yet so does wail? 15 _503_ - - What, hast thou run thy Race? Art going down? 451 _652_ - - What if some little paine the passage have 190 - - What is there hid in the heart of a rose 151 _561_ - - What is this life if, full of care 145 - - What noise of viols is so sweet 81 - - What shall I your true-love tell 262 _596_ - - What wondrous life is this I lead! 149 - - What, you are stepping westward? 456 _655_ - - When cats run home and light is come 105 _541_ - - When I am dead, my dearest 279 _605_ - - When I crept over the hill, broken with tears 275 - - When I did wake this morn from sleep 7 - - When I sailed out of Baltimore 95 - - When Isicles hang by the wall 246 _591_ - - *When I was bound apprentice 204 - - When I was but thirteen or so 375 _629_ - - When men were all asleep the snow came flying 234 _586_ - - When my mother died I was very young 42 - - When night is o'er the wood 541 - - When once the sun sinks in the west 454 - - When she sleeps 263 - - When that I was and a little tinie boy 224 _584_ - - When the cock begins to crow 553 - - When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy 198 _576_ - - When the lamp is shattered 258 - - When the Present has latched its postern 455 _653_ - - When these old woods were young 53 _521_ - - When the sheep are in the fauld 362 - - When the voices of children are heard on the green 453 _652_ - - When the words rustle no more 40 - - When we lay where Budmouth Beach is 176 _570_ - - Where are you going, Master mine? 355 - - Where are your Oranges? 175 _569_ - - Where do the gipsies come from? 80 _532_ - - Where on the wrinkled stream the willows lean 106 _542_ - - Where shall the lover rest 279 - - Where the Bee sucks, there suck I 121 - - Where the pools are bright and deep 141 - - Where the remote Bermudas ride 381 _633_ - - Where thou dwellest, in what Grove 112 - - While I sit at the door 487 _666_ - - While Morpheus thus does gently lay 467 _663_ - - Whither, midst falling dew? 113 - - Who calls? Who calls? Who? 120 _548_ - - Who can live in heart so glad 146 - - Who feasts tonight? 132 _554_ - - Who'll walk the fields with us to town? 141 - - *Who's at my window? 597 - - Whose Woods these are I think I know 587 - - *Who--Who--the bride will be? 105 - - *Why does your brand so drop wi' blood 430 _646_ - - Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled 171 - - *Widdecombe Fair 76 - - *Wife of Usher's Well, The 445 - - Will you come? 460 - - Witch's Ballad, The 324 - - With blackest moss the flower-plots 314 _609_ - - With deep affection and recollection 210 _582_ - - With how sad steps, O Moon 463 - - *Wolcum be thu, hevene kyng 244 _589_ - - World of Light, The 283 - - *Wraggle Taggle Gipsies, The 79 - - Wull ye come in eärly Spring 461 - - - Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon 50 - - Ye buds of Brutus' land, courageous youths 168 _566_ - - Ye have been fresh and green 219 - - Yes, I remember Adlestrop 102 - - *Yet if His Majesty our sovereign lord 484 - - Young Love lies sleeping 368 _628_ - - - - - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD. - - THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, GLASGOW - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Hedgehogs - -[2] Starling - -[3] Know but little - -[4] Give - -[5] Birds - -[6] Such - -[7] Sorrow - -[8] Run quickly, hasten away - -[9] Float - -[10] Whips, mills, or beats - -[11] Refresh; make sweet - -[12] Truly, in sooth - -[13] Mateless and matchless - -[14] Chose - -[15] Keep - -[16] Young - -[17] Call - -[18] Heedlessness - -[19] Natural - -[20] Nimbly - -[21] Stick out - -[22] Squiggle - -[23] Toy or trap - -[24] More - -[25] Make grimaces - -[26] Falsehood - -[27] Learning - -[28] Yea, sirs - -[29] Air, tune, stave - -[30] Willow rind - -[31] Pears - -[32] Feast or fast - -[33] Gown or coat-tail - -[34] Where - -[35] Going - -[36] Who's - -[37] From - -[38] Dale or hollow - -[39] Knoll or hillock - -[40] Goods and chattels - -[41] If - -[42] Clothes - -[43] Sweet-smelling - -[44] Cat-mint - -[45] Gillyflower - -[46] Empty - -[47] Weeping - -[48] Every - -[49] Stole - -[50] Had been - -[51] Wrestle - -[52] If - -[53] Must not - -[54] Dare not - -[55] Dug. delved - -[56] Her death-throes - -[57] Bran - -[58] Hairs - -[59] Yeast - -[60] Duck's - -[61] Bracken - -[62] To - -[63] Such two - -[64] Scarce - -[65] Makes - -[66] If - -[67] Safely - -[68] Lustily - -[69] _Cave!_ - -[70] Pretty dear - -[71] Green-walled ditch - -[72] Thatch: mend - -[73] Briar: wild-wood - -[74] Distaff - -[75] When the woods are fresh and fair - -[76] It - -[77] Small birds' - -[78] Polished - -[79] Which soon - -[80] O'er meadow, moor and stream - -[81] Herbs, wild flowers - -[82] Stir - -[83] A bank between ploughlands - -[84] More - -[85] Preens - -[86] Stay - -[87] Might - -[88] This - -[89] Risk, hazard, dare. - -[90] Dainty; luxurious. - -[91] Dirge, lament - -[92] Vast hill-hollow - -[93] Danger or defeat - -[94] When the half-muffled City Bells rang in commemoration of the -Bell-Ringers who fell in the war, the bells of St. Clement Danes could -not take part owing to a defect in the framework. - -[95] For a moment - -[96] Game - -[97] Cowering - -[98] Glen - -[99] Wee bit lassikin - -[100] No linnets - -[101] Freezing - -[102] Worse - -[103] Burn - -[104] Him - -[105] Together - -[106] Loved - -[107] Are here - -[108] Custom - -[109] Chilblain - -[110] Forester - -[111] Them - -[112] Hast thou - -[113] Cries - -[114] Skim - -[115] Apples - -[116] Once - -[117] Locks - -[118] Skin - -[119] Set - -[120] Grow - -[121] Elf - -[122] Made one - -[123] May - -[124] Where's - -[125] Dove - -[126] Trappings - -[127] Make - -[128] Hold - -[129] Bought - -[130] The green margin of a river - -[131] Wild and lively - -[132] Furious - -[133] Carousers - -[134] Brawling - -[135] Cobbler - -[136] Spellbound - -[137] Chose - -[138] Witching - -[139] Dust: reek - -[140] Road - -[141] Nearest - -[142] Dove - -[143] Asked - -[144] Ere - -[145] Bold - -[146] Than - -[147] Worse - -[148] Why, sure - -[149] Peat for school fire - -[150] Who owns - -[151] Vessel, ship - -[152] Bands - -[153] Ere - -[154] Slowly, softly - -[155] Cows - -[156] Husband - -[157] Weep - -[158] Much - -[159] Praises - -[160] Good reason why - -[161] More - -[162] Pool - -[163] Leaping - -[164] Crooked, awry - -[165] Spell - -[166] Charmed and cozened - -[167] Laughed - -[168] Foul - -[169] Right loth - -[170] Wet - -[171] But long ere - -[172] If - -[173] Hand-bag - -[174] Birch-wood - -[175] The young wife - -[176] Skirts of bright green - -[177] Must not - -[178] This - -[179] High - -[180] Hair-comb - -[181] Save - -[182] The one - -[183] Raiders - -[184] Gold and silver - -[185] Alone - -[186] To the gate is gone - -[187] Halls - -[188] If - -[189] One - -[190] The twain - -[191] Makes her weep - -[192] Such lament - -[193] Shall not lose - -[194] Seized his all - -[195] More - -[196] Everything - -[197] Within - -[198] And dashed her backwards into the waves - -[199] And I'll make - -[200] You shall have - -[201] It parted me and my world's mate - -[202] Great - -[203] If you will stand - -[204] Every - -[205] Likewise - -[206] Visions - -[207] Canopy over dais - -[208] Mate - -[209] Bed - -[210] Told - -[211] First and foremost - -[212] Cap-nets of silk or of gold - -[213] Bird - - -Transcriber's Note: - -1. All original spelling has been retained. - -2. Possible printing and spelling errors have been silently corrected. - -3. Words in hyphenated and non-hyphenated forms have been retained. - -4. Superscripts are shown as ^x. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Come Hither, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COME HITHER *** - -***** This file should be named 62119-0.txt or 62119-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/1/1/62119/ - -Produced by Karin Spence, Tim Lindell and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. 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- color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Come Hither, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Come Hither - A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of all Ages - -Author: Various - -Contributor: Alec Buckels - -Editor: Walter de la Mare - -Release Date: May 13, 2020 [EBook #62119] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COME HITHER *** - - - - -Produced by Karin Spence, Tim Lindell and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_half_title" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_half_title.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p id="half-title" class="p6">COME HITHER</p> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_title" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_title.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h1>COME<br /> - -HITHER</h1> - -<p class="center p-left">A<br /> - -COLLECTION<br /> - -OF RHYMES<br /> - -AND POEMS<br /> - -FOR THE<br /> - -YOUNG OF<br /> - -ALL AGES</p> - -<p class="center p-left sm">MADE BY<br /> - -<span class="lg">WALTER DE LA MARE</span><br /> - -AND EMBELLISHED<br /> - -<span class="xs">BY</span><br /> - -<span class="lg">ALEC BUCKELS</span></p> - - -<p class="p2 center p-left">CONSTABLE & CO<br /> - -<span class="xs">LONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY<br /> - -MCMXXIII.</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p class="center p-left p6 xxs">PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD.<br /> -THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, GLASGOW</p> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_iii" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_iii.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - -<p class="p2 center p-left"><span class="xs">TO</span><br /> - -LAURA COLTMAN<br /> - -IN LOVE AND<br /> - -GRATITUDE</p> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_v" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_v.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="contents"> - <tr> - <th></th> - <th class="pag">PAGE</th> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">The Story of this Book</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_vii">vii</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Morning and May</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Mother, Home, and Sweetheart</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Feasts: Fairs: Beggars: Gipsies</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Beasts of the Field: Fowls of the Air</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Ouph: Elphin: Fay</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Summer: Greenwood: Solitude</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">War</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Dance, Music and Bells</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Autumn Leaves: Winter Snow</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">"Like Stars upon some Gloomy Grove"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Far</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">"Lily Bright and Shine-a"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_343">343</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">"Echo then shall again<br /> - Tell her I follow"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_371">371</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Old Tales and Balladry</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_413">413</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Evening and Dream</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_447">447</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">The Garden</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_479">479</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">About and Roundabout</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_495">495</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Acknowledgments</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_671">671</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Index of Authors</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_677">677</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht smcap">Index of Poems</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_683">683</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_vi" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_vi.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE STORY OF THIS BOOK</h2> - - -<p>In my rovings and ramblings as a boy I had often skirted the old stone -house in the hollow. But my first clear remembrance of it is of a hot -summer's day. I had climbed to the crest of a hill till then unknown to -me, and stood there, hot and breathless in the bright slippery grass, -looking down on its grey walls and chimneys as if out of a dream. And -as if out of a dream already familiar to me.</p> - -<p>My real intention in setting out from home that morning had been to -get to a place called East Dene. My mother had often spoken to me of -East Dene—of its trees and waters and green pastures, and the rare -birds and flowers to be found there. Ages ago, she had told me, an -ancestor of our family had dwelt in this place. But she smiled a little -strangely when I asked her to take me there. "All in good time, my -dear," she whispered into my ear, "all in very good time! Just follow -your small nose." What kind of time, I wondered, was <i>very good time</i>. -And <i>follow my nose</i>—how far? Such reflections indeed only made me the -more anxious to be gone.</p> - -<p>Early that morning, then, I had started out when the dew was still -sparkling, and the night mists had but just lifted. But my young legs -soon tired of the steep, boulder-strown hills, the chalky ravines, and -burning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> sun, and having, as I say, come into view of the house in the -valley, I went no further. Instead, I sat down on the hot turf—the -sweet smell of thyme in the air, a few harebells nodding around me—and -stared, down and down.</p> - -<p>After that first visit, scarcely a week passed but that I found myself -on this hill again. The remembrance of the house stayed in my mind; -would keep returning to me, like a bird to its nest. Sometimes even in -the middle of the night I would wake up and lie unable to sleep again -for thinking of it—seeing it in my head; solemn, secret, strange.</p> - -<p>There is a little flickering lizard called the Chameleon which, they -say, changes its colour according to the place where it happens to be. -So with this house. It was never the same for two hours together. I -have seen it gathered close up in its hollow in the livid and coppery -gloom of storm; crouched like a hare in winter under a mask of snow; -dark and silent beneath the changing sparkle of the stars; and like -a palace out of an Arabian tale in the milky radiance of the moon. -<span class="smcap">Thrae</span> was the name inscribed on its gateway, but in letters so -faint and faded as to be almost illegible.</p> - -<p>In a sense I was, I suppose, a trespasser in this Thrae; until at least -I became acquainted with Miss Taroone, the lady who lived in it. For -I made pretty free with her valley, paddled and fished in its stream, -and now and then helped myself to a windfall in her green bird-haunted -orchards, where grew a particularly sharp and bright-rinded apple of -which I have never heard the name. As custom gave me confidence, I -ventured nearer and nearer to the house and would sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span> take a -rest squatting on a manger in the big empty barn, looking out into -the sunshine. The wings of the flies shone like glass in its shafts -of light, and the robins whistled under its timber roof so shrill as -almost to deafen one's ears.</p> - -<p>Few strangers passed that way. Now and then I saw in the distance -what might have been a beggar. To judge from his bundle he must have -done pretty well at the house. Once, as I turned out of a little wood -of birches, I met a dreadful-faced man in the lane who lifted up his -hand at sight of me, and with white glaring eyes, uttered a horrible -imprecation. He was chewing some fruit stolen out of the orchard, and -at the very sight of him I ran like Wat himself.</p> - -<p>Once, too, as my head looked over the hill-crest, there stood an old -carriage and a drowsy horse drawn up beside the porch—with its slender -wooden pillars and a kind of tray above, on which rambled winter -jasmine, tufts of self-sown weeds and Traveller's Joy. I edged near -enough to see there was a crown emblazoned on the panel of the carriage -door. Nobody sat inside, and the coachman asleep on the box made me -feel more solitary and inquisitive than ever.</p> - -<p>Yet in its time the old house must have seen plenty of company. Friends -of later years have spoken to me of it. Indeed, not far distant from -Thrae as the crow flies, there was a crossing of high roads, so that -any traveller from elsewhere not in haste could turn aside and examine -the place if he cared for its looks and was in need of a night's -lodging. Yet I do not think many such travellers—if they were men -merely of the Town—can have <i>chosen</i> to lift that knocker or to set -ringing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> that bell. To any one already lost and benighted its looks -must have been forbidding.</p> - -<p>Well, as I say, again and again, my lessons done, morning or evening -would find me either on the grass slopes above Thrae, or actually in -its valley. If I was tired, I would watch from a good distance off its -small dark windows in their stone embrasures, and up above them the -round greenish tower or turret over which a winged weather-vane twirled -with the wind. I might watch: but the only person that I ever actually -observed at the windows was an old maid with flaps to her cap, who -would sometimes shake a duster out into the air as if for a signal to -someone up in the hills.</p> - -<p>Apart from her, I had occasionally seen Miss Taroone herself in the -overgrown garden, with her immense shears, or with her trencher of -bread-crumbs and other provender, feeding the birds. And I once stole -near enough under a hedge to watch this sight. They hopped and pecked -in a multitude beneath her hands, tits and robins, starlings and -blackbirds, and other much wilder and rarer birds, as if they had no -need here for wings, or were under an enchantment more powerful than -that of mere crumbs of bread. The meal done, the platter empty, Miss -Taroone would clap her hands, and off they would fly with a skirring of -wings, with shrill cries and snatches of song to their haunts.</p> - -<p>She seemed to mind no weather; standing bare-headed in heavy rain or -scorching sunlight. And I confess the sight of her never failed to -alarm me. But I made up my mind always to keep my wits about me and my -eyes open; and never to be <i>caught</i> trespassing.</p> - -<p>Then one day, as I slid down from the roof of the barn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> from amid the -branches of a chestnut tree, green with its spiky balls of fruit, I -found Miss Taroone standing there in the entry, looking out on me as if -out of a frame, or like a stone figure in the niche of a church. She -made no stir herself, but her eyes did. Clear cold eyes of the colour -of pebbly water, in which I seemed to be of no more importance than a -boat floating on the sea. I could neither speak nor run away. I could -only gawk at her, my pockets bulging with the unripe chestnuts I had -pilfered, and a handsome slit in one leg of my breeches.</p> - -<p>She asked me what I did there; my name; why I was not at school; where -I lived; and did I eat the chestnuts. It appeared she had more often -seen me—I suppose from her windows—than I had seen her. She made -no movement, never even smiled while I stammered out answers to her -questions, but merely kept her eyes steadily fixed on me, while her own -lips just opened enough to let the words out of her mouth. She listened -to me with a severe face, and said, "Well, if you are happy to be here -with the rest, so much the better."</p> - -<p>It was a relief when she turned away, bidding me follow her—and a -foolish figure I must have cut as I clattered after her across the -cobbled yard under the old red-brick arch and so through the porch and -into the house.</p> - -<p>When I was sat down in one of the shaded rooms within the house, she -summoned the tall gaunt old maid with the cap-flaps I had seen at the -windows, and bade her bring me some fruit and a dish of cream. Miss -Taroone watched me while I ate it. And uncommonly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> good it was, though -I would rather have been enjoying it alone. From the way she looked at -me it might have been supposed it was a bird or a small animal that -was sitting up at her table. The last spoonful finished, she asked me -yet more questions and appeared to be not displeased with my rambling -answers, for she invited me to come again and watched me take up my cap -and retire.</p> - -<p>This was the first time I was ever in Miss Taroone's house—within its -solid walls I mean; and what a multitude of rooms, with their coffers -and presses and cabinets, containing I knew not what treasures and -wonders! But Thrae was not Miss Taroone's only house, for more than -once she spoke of another—named <span class="smcap">Sure Vine</span>, as if of a family -mansion and estate, very ancient and magnificent. When, thinking of my -mother, I myself ventured a question about East Dene, her green-grey -eyes oddly settled on mine a moment, but she made no answer. I noticed -this particularly.</p> - -<p>Soon I was almost as free and familiar in Miss Taroone's old house as -in my own father's. Yet I cannot say that she was ever anything else -than curt with me in her manner. It was a long time before I became -accustomed to the still, secret way she had of looking at me. I liked -best being in her company when she appeared, as was usually so, not to -be aware that she was not alone. She had again asked me my name "for -a sign" as she said, "to know you by"; though she always afterwards -addressed me as Simon. Certainly in those days I was "simple" enough.</p> - -<p>My next friend was the woman whom I had seen shaking her duster out of -the upper windows. She, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span> discovered, was called Linnet Sara Queek -or Quek or Cuec or Cueque, I don't know how to spell it. She was an -exceedingly curious woman and looked as if she had never been any -different, though, of course, she must once have been young and have -grown up. She was bony, awkward, and angular, and when you spoke to -her, she turned on you with a look that was at the same time vacant and -piercing. At first she greeted me sourly, but soon became friendlier, -and would allow me to sit in her huge kitchen with her parrot, her -sleek tabby cat, and perhaps a dainty or two out of her larder.</p> - -<p>She was continually muttering—though I could never quite catch what -she said; never idle; and though slow and awkward in her movements, she -did a vast deal of work. With small short-sighted eyes fixed on her -mortar she would stand pounding and pounding; or stewing and seething -things in pots—strange-looking roots and fruits and fungi. Her pantry -was crammed with pans, jars, bottles, and phials, all labelled in her -queer handwriting. An extraordinary place—especially when the sunbeams -of evening struck into it from a high window in its white-washed wall.</p> - -<p>Linnet she might be called, but her voice was no bird's, unless the -crow's; and you would have guessed at once, at sight of her standing in -front of the vast open hearth, stooping a little, her long gaunt arms -beside her, that her other name was Sara. But she could tell curious -and rambling stories (as true as she could make them); and many of -them were about the old days in Thrae, older days in Sure Vine, and -about Miss Taroone, in whose service she had been since she was a small -child.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span></p> - -<p>She told me, too, some specially good tales—as good as Grimm—about -some villages she knew of called the Ten Laps; and gave me a custard -when I asked for more. I once mentioned East Dene to her, too, and she -said there was a short cut to it (though it seemed to me a long way -about) through the quarry, by the pits, and that way round. "And then -you come to a Wall," she said, staring at me. "And you climb over."</p> - -<p>"Did <i>you</i>?" said I, laughing; and at that she was huffed.</p> - -<p>Boy though I was, it occurred to me that in this immense house there -must be a great deal more work than Sara could manage unaided. -Something gave me the fancy that other hands must lend their help; -but if any maids actually came in to Thrae from East Dene, or from -elsewhere, they must have come and gone very late, or early. It seemed -bad manners to be too curious. On the other hand, I rarely saw much of -the back parts of the house.</p> - -<p>I have sometimes wondered if Thrae had not once in fact lain within -the borders of East Dene, and that being so, if Miss Taroone, like -myself, was unaware of it. It may have been merely pride that closed -her lips, for one day, she showed me, with a curious smile, how Thrae's -architect, centuries before, had planned its site. She herself led me -from room to room; and she talked as she had never talked before.</p> - -<p>Its southernmost window looked on a valley, beyond which on clear still -days was visible the sea, and perhaps a brig or a schooner on its -surface—placid blue as turquoise. Sheer against its easternmost window -the sun mounted to his summer solstice from in between a cleft of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span> -hills—like a large topaz between the forks of a catapult. On one side -of this cleft valley was a windmill, its sails lanking up into the sky, -and sometimes spinning in the wind with an audible faint clatter. Who -owned the mill and what he ground I never heard.</p> - -<p>Northwards, through a round bull's-eye window you could see, past -a maze of coppices and hills, and in the distance, the cock of a -cathedral spire. And to the west stood a wood of yew, its pool -partially greened over, grey with willows, and the haunt of rare birds. -On the one side of this pool spread exceedingly calm meadows; and on -the other, in a hollow, the graveyard lay. The stones and bones in it -were all apparently of Miss Taroone's kinsfolk. At least Linnet Sara -told me so. Nor was she mournful about it. She seemed to have nobody to -care for but her mistress; working for love, whatever her wages might -be.</p> - -<p>It is an odd thing to say, but though I usually tried to avoid meeting -Miss Taroone, and was a little afraid of her, there was a most curious -happiness at times in being in her company. She never once asked me -about my character, never warned me of anything, never said "You must"; -and yet I knew well that if in stupidity or carelessness I did anything -in her house which she did not approve of, my punishment would come.</p> - -<p>She once told me, "Simon, you have, I see, the beginnings of a bad -feverish cold. It is because you were stupid enough yesterday to -stand with the sweat on your face talking to me in a draught. It will -probably be severe." And so it was.</p> - -<p>She never said anything affectionate; she never lost her temper. I -never saw her show any pity or meanness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span> or revenge. "Well, Simon," -she would say, "Good morning"; or "Good evening" (as the case might -be); "you are always welcome. Have a good look about you. Don't waste -your time here. Even when all is said, you will not see too much of me -and mine. But don't believe <i>everything</i> you may hear in the kitchen. -Linnet Sara is a good servant, but still a groper."</p> - -<p>Not the least notion of what she meant occurred to me. But I peacocked -about for a while as if she had paid me a compliment. An evening or two -afterwards, and soon after sunset, I found her sitting in her westward -window. Perhaps because rain was coming, the crouching head-stones -under the hill looked to be furlongs nearer. "Sleeping, waking; waking, -sleeping, Simon;" she said, "sing while you can." Like a little owl I -fixed sober eyes on the yew-wood, but again I hadn't any inkling of -what she meant.</p> - -<p>She would sit patiently listening to me as long as I cared to unbosom -myself to her. Her calm, severe, and yet, I think, beautiful face -is clear in my memory. It resembles a little the figure in Albrecht -Dürer's picture of a woman sitting beneath the wall of a house, with a -hound couched beside her, an inclined ladder, the rain-bowed sea in the -distance, and a bat—a tablet of magic numbers and a pent-housed bell -over her head.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I would be questioned at home about my solitary wanderings, -but I never mentioned Miss Taroone's name, and spoke of her house a -little deceitfully, since I did not confess how much I loved being in -it.</p> - -<p>One evening—and it was already growing late—Miss Taroone, after -steadily gazing into my eyes for a few moments, asked me if I liked -pictures. I professed that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span> I did, though I had never spent much time -in looking at the queer portraits and charts and mementoes that hung -thick and closely on her own walls. "Well," she replied, "if you like -pictures I must first tell you about Nahum."</p> - -<p>I could not at first make head or tail of Mr. Nahum. Even now I am -uncertain whether he was Miss Taroone's brother or her nephew or a -cousin many times removed; or whether perhaps she was really and truly -Mrs. Taroone and he her only son; or she still Miss Taroone and he an -adopted one. I am not sure even whether or not she had much love for -him, though she appeared to speak of him with pride. What I do know is -that Miss Taroone had nurtured him from his cradle, and had taught him -all the knowledge that was not already his by right of birth.</p> - -<p>Before he was come even to be my own age, she told me, Nahum Taroone -had loved "exploring." As a boy he had ranged over the countryside for -miles around. I never dared ask her if he had sat on Linnet Sara's -"Wall"! He had scrawled plans and charts and maps, marking on them all -his wanderings. And not only the roads, paths, chaces, and tracks, the -springs and streams, but the rarer birds' nesting-places and the rarer -wild flowers, the eatable or poisonous fruits, trees, animal lairs, -withies for whips, clay for modelling, elder shoots for pitch pipes, -pebbles for his catapult, flint arrows, and everything of that kind. He -was a night-boy too; could guide himself by the stars, was a walking -almanac of the moon; and could decoy owls and nightjars, and find any -fox's or badger's earth he was after, even in a dense mist.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span></p> - -<p>I came to know Mr. Nahum pretty well—so far at any rate as one can -know anybody from hearsay—before Miss Taroone referred to the pictures -again. And I became curious about him, and hoped to see this strange -traveller, and frequently hung about Thrae in mere chance of that.</p> - -<p>Strangely enough, by the looks on her face and the tones of her voice, -Miss Taroone was inclined to mock a little at Mr. Nahum because of -his restlessness. She didn't seem to approve of his leaving her so -much—though she herself had come from Sure Vine. Her keys would jangle -at her chatelaine as if they said, "Ours secrets enough." And she -would stand listening, and mute, as if in expectation of voices or a -footfall. Then as secretly as I could, I would get away.</p> - -<p>All old memories resemble a dream. And so too do these of Miss Taroone -and Thrae. When I was most busy and happy and engrossed in it, it -seemed to be a house which might at any moment vanish before your eyes, -showing itself to be but the outer shell or hiding place of an abode -still more enchanting.</p> - -<p>This sounds nonsensical. But if you have ever sat and watched a -Transformation Scene in a pantomime, did you suppose, just before -the harlequin slapped with his wand on what looked like a plain -brick-and-mortar wall, that it would instantly after dissolve -into a radiant coloured scene of trees and fountains and hidden -beings—growing lovelier in their own showing as the splendour spread -and their haunts were revealed? Well, so at times I used to feel in -<i>Thrae</i>.</p> - -<p>At last, one late evening in early summer, beckoning me with her -finger, Miss Taroone lit a candle in an old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span> brass stick and bade me -follow her down a long narrow corridor and up a steep winding stone -staircase. "You have heard, Simon, of Mr. Nahum's round room; now you -shall see it."</p> - -<p>On the wider step at the top, before a squat oak door, she stayed, -lifted her candle, and looked at me. "You will remember," she said, -"that what I am about to admit you into is Mr. Nahum's room; not mine. -You may look at the pictures, you may examine anything that interests -you, you may compose yourself to the view. But replace what you look -at, have a care in your handling, do nothing out of <i>idle</i> curiosity, -and come away when you are tired. Remember that Mr. Nahum may be -returning at any hour. He would be pleased to find you here. But hasten -away out of his room the very instant you feel you have no right, lot -or pleasure to be in it. Hasten away, I mean, so that you may return to -it with a better mind and courage."</p> - -<p>She laid two fingers on my shoulder, cast another look into my face -under her candle, turned the key in the lock, gently thrust me beyond -the door, shut it: and left me to my own devices.</p> - -<p>What first I noticed, being for awhile a little alarmed at this strange -proceeding, was the evening light that poured in on the room from the -encircling windows. Below, by walking some little distance from room -to room, corridor to corridor, you could get (as I have said) a single -narrow view out north, south, east or west. Here, you could stand in -the middle, and turning slowly like a top on your heels, could watch -float by one after the other, hill and windmill, ocean, distant city, -dark yew-wood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span></p> - -<p>The crooning of doves was audible on the roof, swallows were coursing -in the placid and rosy air, the whole world seemed to be turning softly -out of the day's sunshine, stretching long dark shadows across hill and -valley as if in delight to be on the verge of rest and slumber again, -now that the heats of full summer were so near.</p> - -<p>But I believe my first <i>thought</i> was—What a boiling hot and glaring -place to sit in in the middle of the morning. And then I noticed that -heavy curtains hung on either side each rounded window, for shade, -concealment and solitude. As soon, however, as my eyes were accustomed -to the dazzle, I spent little time upon the great view, but immediately -peered about me at what was in this curious chamber.</p> - -<p>Never have I seen in any room—and this was none so large—such a -hugger-mugger of strange objects—odd-shaped coloured shells, fragments -of quartz, thunderbolts and fossils; skins of brilliant birds; -outlandish shoes; heads, faces, masks of stone, wood, glass, wax, and -metal; pots, images, glass shapes, and what not; lanterns and bells; -bits of harness and ornament and weapons. There were, besides, two -or three ships of different rigs in glass cases, and one in a green -bottle; peculiar tools, little machines; silent clocks, instruments -of music, skulls and bones of beasts, frowsy bunches of linen or silk -queerly marked, and a mummied cat (I think). And partly concealed, as -I twisted my head, there, dangling in an alcove, I caught sight of a -full-length skeleton, one hollow eye-hole concealed by a curtain looped -to the floor from the ceiling.</p> - -<p>I just cast my glance round on all these objects without of course -seeing them one by one. The air was clear as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span> water in the evening -light, a little dust had fallen; all was in order, though at that first -hasty glance there seemed none. Last, but not least, there was row on -row of painted pictures. Wherever there was space on the walls free -of books, this round tower room was hung with them as close as their -frames and nails allowed. There I stood, hearing faintly the birds, -conscious of the pouring sunlight, the only live creature amidst this -departed traveller's treasures and possessions.</p> - -<p>I was so much taken aback by it all, so mystified by Miss Taroone's -ways, so cold at sight of the harmless bones above me, and felt so -suddenly out of my familiars, that without a moment's hesitation I -turned about, flung open the door and went helter skelter clattering -down the stairs—out of the glare into the gloom.</p> - -<p>There was no sign of Miss Taroone as I crossed through the house and -sneaked off hastily through the garden. And not until the barn had -shut me out from the lower windows behind me did I look back at the -upper ones of Mr. Nahum's tower. Until that moment I did not know how -frightened I had been. Yet why, or at what, I cannot even now decide.</p> - -<p>But I soon overcame this folly. Miss Taroone made no inquiry how I had -fared on this first visit to Mr. Nahum's fortress. As I have said, she -seldom asked questions—except with her eyes, expressions, and hands. -But some time afterwards, and after two or three spells of exploration, -I myself began to talk to her of the strange things up there.</p> - -<p>"I have looked at a good many, Miss Taroone. But the pictures! Some of -them are of places I <i>believe</i> I know. I wish I could be a traveller -and see what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</a></span> the others are of. Did Mr. Nahum paint them all himself?"</p> - -<p>Miss Taroone was sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, her eyes -and face very intent, as always happened when Mr. Nahum's name was -mentioned.</p> - -<p>"I know very little about them, Simon. When Nahum was younger he used -to make pictures of Thrae, and of the woods and valleys hereabouts. -There are boxfulls put away. Others are pictures brought back from -foreign parts, but many of them, as I believe," she turned her face and -looked into a shadowy corner of the room, "are pictures of nothing on -earth. He has his two worlds. Take your time. Some day you too, I dare -say, will go off on your travels. Remember that, like Nahum, you are as -old as the hills which neither spend nor waste time, but dwell in it -for ages, as if it were light or sunshine. Some day perhaps Nahum will -shake himself free of Thrae altogether. I don't <i>know</i>, myself, Simon. -This house is enough for me, and what I remember of Sure Vine, compared -with which Thrae is but the smallest of bubbles in a large glass."</p> - -<p>I do not profess to have understood one half of what Miss Taroone meant -in these remarks. It was in English and yet in a hidden tongue.</p> - -<p>But by this time I had grown to be bolder in her company, and pounced -on this:—"What, please Miss Taroone, do you mean by the 'two worlds'? -Or shall I ask downstairs?" I added the latter question because now and -then in the past Miss Taroone had bidden me go down to Linnet Sara for -my answers. She now appeared at first not to have heard it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Now I must say to you, Simon," she replied at last, folding her hands -on her knee, "wherever you may be in that body of yours, you feel you -look out of it, do you not?"</p> - -<p>I nodded. "Yes, Miss Taroone."</p> - -<p>"Now think, then, of Mr. Nahum's round room; where is that?"</p> - -<p>"Up there," said I, pointing up a rambling finger.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" cried Miss Taroone, "so it may be. But even if to-morrow you are -thousands of miles distant from here on the other side of this great -Ball, or in its bowels, or flying free—you will still carry a picture -of it, will you not? And that will be within you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, in my mind, Miss Taroone?" I answered rather sheepishly.</p> - -<p>"In your mind," she echoed me, but not as if she were particularly -pleased at the fact. "Well, many of the pictures I take it in Mr. -Nahum's round tower are of <i>that</i> world. His <span class="smcap">MIND</span>. I have -never examined them. My duties are elsewhere. Your duty is to keep -your senses, heart and courage and to go where you are called. And in -black strange places you will at times lose yourself and find yourself, -Simon. Now Mr. Nahum is calling. Don't think of me too much. I have -great faith in him. Sit up there with him then. Share your eyes with -his pictures. And having seen them, compare them if you will. Say, This -is this, and that is that. And make of all that he has exactly what use -you can."</p> - -<p>With this counsel in my head I once more groped my way up the corkscrew -stone staircase, and once more passed on from picture to picture; in my -engrossment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</a></span> actually knocking my head against the dangling foot-bones -of Mr. Nahum's treasured and now unalarming skeleton.</p> - -<p>The pictures were of all kinds and sizes—in water colour, in chalks, -and in oil. Some I liked for their vivid colours and deep shadows, and -some I did not like at all. Nor could I always be sure even what they -were intended to represent. Many of them completely perplexed me. A few -of them seemed to me to be absurd; some made me stupidly ashamed; and -one or two of them terrified me. But I went on examining them when I -felt inclined, and a week or so after, as I was lifting out one of them -into the sunshine, by chance it twisted on its cord and disclosed its -wooden back.</p> - -<p>And there, pasted on to it, was a scrap of yellowing paper with the -letters <span class="smcap">Blake</span>, followed by a number—<span class="smcap">CXLVII</span>, in Roman -figures. As with this one, so with the others. Each had its name and a -number.</p> - -<p>And even as I stood pondering what this might mean, my eyes rested on -a lower shelf of one of Mr. Nahum's cases of books—book-cases which -I have forgotten to say stood all round the lower part of the room. I -had already discovered that many of these books were the writings of -travellers in every part of the globe. One whole book-case consisted of -what Mr. Nahum appeared to call Kitchen Work. But the one on a lower -shelf which had now taken my attention was new to me—an enormous, -thick, home-made-looking volume covered in a greenish shagreen or -shark-skin.</p> - -<p>Scrawled in ungainly capitals on the strip of vellum pasted to the -back of this book was its title: <span class="smcap">Theotherworlde</span>. Would you -believe it?—at first I was stupid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[xxv]</a></span> enough to suppose this title was -one word, a word in a strange tongue, which I pronounced to myself -as best I could, <span class="smcap">Theeothaworldie</span>—saying the <span class="smcap">TH</span> as -in <i>thimble</i>. And that is what, merely for old sake's sake, I have -continued to call the book in my mind to this day!</p> - -<p>I glanced out of the window. The upper boughs of the yew-wood and the -stones this side of it among the bright green grasses were impurpled by -the reflected sunlight. Nothing there but motionless shadows. I stood -looking vacantly out for a moment or two; then stooped and lugged out -the ponderous fusty old volume on to the floor and raised its clumsy -cover.</p> - -<p>To my surprise and pleasure, I found, that attached within was the -drawing of a boy of about my own age, but dressed like a traveller, -whose face faintly resembled a portrait I had noticed on the walls -downstairs, though this child had wings painted to his shoulders and -there was a half circle of stars around his head. Beneath this portrait -in the book, in small letters, was scrawled in a faded handwriting, -<span class="smcap">Nahum Tarune</span>. This, then, was Mr. Nahum when he was a boy. It -pleased me to find that he was no better a speller than myself. He had -not even got his own name right! I liked his face. He looked out from -under his stars at me, full in the eyes.</p> - -<p>Next—after I had searched his looks and clothes and what he carried -pretty closely—I turned over a few of the stiff leaves and found more -of his writing with a big VII scrawled on the top. On page one of this -book you will find the writing. I should have been a stupider boy even -than I was if I had not at once turned over the pictures till I came to -that with VII on the label on the back of it. This picture was of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[xxvi]</a></span> -Maze outlined in gaudy colours which faded towards the middle—a sort -of oasis in which grew a tree. Fabulous-looking animals and creatures -with wings sprawled around its margins. After repeated attempts I -found to my disappointment that your only way out of the oasis and the -maze was, after long groping, by the way you went in. Underneath it -was written "<i>This is the key.</i>" And above it in green letters stood -this:—Behold upon the mountains the feet of him that bringeth good -tidings, that publisheth peace!</p> - -<p>It was unfortunate that so little more of daylight was now left dying -in the sky that evening; for as yet I had not the confidence to kindle -the wax candles that stood in their brass sticks in the round tower. -It was high time for me to be getting home. In my haste to be off I -nearly collided with Miss Taroone, who happened to be standing in the -dusklight looking out from under her porch. Too much excited even to -beg her pardon, I blurted out: "Miss Taroone, I have found out what -the pictures are of. It's a Book. <i>Theeothaworldie.</i> Mr. Nahum's -portrait's in it, but they've put wings to him; and it's all in his -writing—rhymes."</p> - -<p>She looked down at me, though I could not quite see her face.</p> - -<p>"Then, good-night to you, Simon; and happy dreams," she said, in her -unfriendly voice.</p> - -<p>"I like the round room better and better," I replied as heartily as I -could. "That picture of Mr. Nahum—and there are lots more, I think—is -a <i>little</i> bit like an uncle of mine who died in Russia; my Uncle John."</p> - -<p>"John's as good a name, I suppose, as any other, Simon," said Miss -Taroone. She stood looking out on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[xxvii]</a></span> the dusky country scene. "There's a -heavy dew tonight, and the owls are busy."</p> - -<p>They were indeed. Their screechings sounded on all sides of me as I ran -off homewards, chanting over to myself the words that had somehow stuck -in my memory.</p> - -<p>Well, at last I began to read in Mr. Nahum's book—I won't say page -by page, but as the fancy took me. It consisted chiefly of rhymes and -poems, and some of them had pictured capitals and were decorated in -clear bright colours like the pages of the old books illuminated by -monks centuries ago. Apart from the poems were here and there pieces -of prose. These, I found, always had some bearing on the poems, and, -like them, many of them were queerly spelt. Occasionally Mr. Nahum had -jotted down his own thoughts in the margin. But the pictures were my -first concern.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I went off to them from the book in order to find the -particular one I wanted. And sometimes the other way round: I would -have a good long stare at a picture, then single out the proper rhyme -in the book. Often, either in one way or the other, I failed. For there -were far fewer pictures than there were pages in the book, and for -scores of pages I found no picture at all. It seemed Mr. Nahum had made -paintings only of those he liked best.</p> - -<p>The book itself, I found, was the first of three, the other two being -similar to itself but much thicker and heavier. Into these I dipped -occasionally, but found that the rhymes in them interested me less -or were less easily understandable. Even some of those in the first -book were a little beyond my wits at the time. But experience seems to -be like the shining of a bright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[xxviii]</a></span> lantern. It suddenly makes clear in -the mind what was already there perhaps, but dim. And often though I -immediately liked what I read, long years were to go by before I really -understood it, made it my own. There would come a moment, something -would happen; and I would say to myself:—"Oh, that, then, is what -<i>that</i> meant!"</p> - -<p>Before going any further I must confess that I was exceedingly slow -over Mr. Nahum's writings. Even over Volume I. When first I opened its -pages I had had a poor liking for poetry because of a sort of contempt -for it. "Poetry!" I would scoff to myself, and would shut up the covers -of any such book with a kind of yawn inside me. Some of it had come my -way in lesson books. This I could gabble off like a parrot, and with as -much understanding; and I had just begun to grind out a little Latin -verse for my father.</p> - -<p>But I had never troubled to think about it; to share my Self with it; -to examine it in order to see whether or not it was true; or to ask -why it was written in this one way and in no other way. But apart -from this, there were many old rhymes in Mr. Nahum's book—nursery -things—which I had known since I knew anything. And I still have an -old childish love for rhymes and jingles like them.</p> - -<p>But what about the others? I began to ponder. After being so many hours -alone in Mr. Nahum's room, among his secret belongings, I almost felt -his presence there. When your mind is sunk in study, it is as if you -were in a dream. But you cannot tell where, or in whose company, you -may wake out of a dream. I remember one sultry afternoon being startled -out of my wits by a sudden clap of thunder. I looked up, to find the -whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxix" id="Page_xxix">[xxix]</a></span> room black, zigzag, and strange, and for a moment I fancied Mr. -Nahum was actually there behind me; and not a friendly Mr. Nahum.</p> - -<p>That is mere fancy; though in other ways he became so real to me at -last that I would do things as if he had asked me to do them. For this -reason, I think, I persevered with his book, swallowing some of the -poems as if they were physic, simply because he had written them there. -But the more I read, the more I came to enjoy them for their own sakes. -Not all of them, of course. But I did see this, that like a carpenter -who makes a table, a man who has written a poem has written it like -that <i>on purpose</i>.</p> - -<p>With this thought in my head I tried one day to alter the words of -one or two of the simple and easy poems; or to put the words in a -different order. And I found by so doing that you not only altered -the sound of the poem, but that even the slightest alteration in the -sound a little changed the sense. Either you lost something of the tune -and runningness; or the words did not clash right; or you blurred the -picture the words gave you; or some half-hidden meaning vanished away. -I don't mean that every poem is perfect; but only that when I changed -them it was almost always very much for the worse. I was very slow -in all this; but, still, I went on. No. III, I remember, was the old -nursery jingle, "Old King Cole":—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Old King Cole was a merry old soul,</div> - <div>And a merry old soul was he;</div> - <div class="i1">He called for his pipe,</div> - <div class="i1">And he called for his bowl,</div> - <div>And he called for his fiddlers three....</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxx" id="Page_xxx">[xxx]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now, suppose, instead of these four lines of the rhyme you put:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Old King Cole was a jolly old man,</div> - <div>The jolliest old man alive;</div> - <div>He called for his cup, and he called for a pipe</div> - <div>And he called for his fiddlers five.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>By so doing you have actually added two extra fiddlers; and yet somehow -you have taken away some of the old three's music. Or you may put:—</p> - -<p>'Cole the First was now a monarch advanced in age, and of a convivial -temperament. On any festive occasion he would bid his retainers bring -him his goblet and smoking materials, and would command his musicians -to entertain him on their violins: which they did.'</p> - -<p>Well, all the <i>facts</i> are there and many more words, but scarcely a -trace of <i>my</i> old King Cole, and not a single tweedle-eedle of the -fiddling. Would anyone trouble to learn that by heart?</p> - -<p>Now underneath this rhyme Mr. Nahum had written a sort of historical -account of King Cole, a good deal of it in German and other languages. -All I could make out of it was this: if ever a King Cole inhabited the -world, he probably had another name; that he lived too far back in -history for anyone to make sure when he had lived or that he had lived -at all; and that his "pipe" and "bowl" probably stand for objects much -more mysterious and far less common.</p> - -<p>Having the rhyme quite free to myself, I didn't mind reading this; but -if ever I have to give up either, I shall keep the rhyme.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxi" id="Page_xxxi">[xxxi]</a></span></p> - -<p>Having discovered, then, that every poem must have been written as it -was written, on purpose, I took a little more pains with those I cared -for least. In some even then I could not quite piece out the meaning; -in others I could not easily catch the beat and rhythm and tune. But I -learned to read them very slowly, so as fully and quietly to fill up -the time allowed for each line and to listen to its music, and to see -and hear all that the words were saying.</p> - -<p>Then, too, what Miss Taroone had said came back to my mind. Even when -Mr. Nahum's poems were about real things and places and people, they -were still only of places and people the words made for me in my -<i>mind</i>. I must, that is, myself imagine all they told. And I found that -the mention in a poem even of quite common and familiar things—such as -a star, or a buttercup, or a beetle—did not bring into the mind quite -the same kind of images of them as the things and creatures themselves -do in the naked eye.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now the day is over,</div> - <div>Night is drawing nigh;</div> - <div>Shadows of the evening</div> - <div>Steal across the sky....</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>This was one of the earliest poems in Mr. Nahum's book. I had often, of -course, seen the shadows of evening—every grass-blade or pebble casts -its own; but these words not only called them vividly into my mind, but -set shadows there (shadows across the sky) that I had never really seen -at all—with my own eyes I mean. I discovered afterwards, also, that -shadows are only the absence of light, though light is needed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxii" id="Page_xxxii">[xxxii]</a></span> make -them visible. Just the same, again, with the sailors in the same poem:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Guard the sailors tossing</div> - <div>On the deep blue sea....</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>They are plain and common words, but their <i>order</i> here is the poem's -only, and the effect they had on me, and still have, is different from -the effect of any other words on the same subject. Though, too, like -Mr. Nahum, I have now seen something of the world (have been seasick -and nearly drowned) I have never forgotten those imaginary sailors, -or that imaginary sea; can still hear the waves lapping against that -(unmentioned) ship's thin wooden walls, as if I myself were sleeping -there, down below.</p> - -<p>So what I then read has remained a clear and single remembrance, as if -I myself had seen it in a world made different, or in a kind of vision -or dream. And I think Mr. Nahum had chosen such poems in Volume I. -as carried away the imagination like that; either into the past, or -into another mind, or into the all-but-forgotten; at times as if into -another world. And this kind has been my choice in this book.</p> - -<p>Not that his picture to a particular poem was always the picture I -should have made of it. Take for example another nursery jingle in his -book:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'How many miles to Babylon?'</div> - <div class="i1">'Three score and ten.'</div> - <div>'Can I get there by candle-light?'</div> - <div class="i1">'Ay, and back again.'</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Nahum's corresponding picture was not of Babylon or of a candle, or -of a traveller at all, but of a stone tomb,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxiii" id="Page_xxxiii">[xxxiii]</a></span> On its thick upper slab he -had drawn-in an old earthen lamp, with a serpent for handle—its wick -alight, and shining up on a small owl perched in the lower branches of -the thick tree above.</p> - -<p>That is one of the pleasures of reading—you may make any picture out -of the words you can and will; and a poem may have as many different -meanings as there are different minds.</p> - -<p>There I would sit, then, and Mr. Nahum's book made of "one little room -an everywhere." And though I was naturally rather stupid and dense, -I did in time realise that "rare poems ask rare friends," and that -even the simplest ones may have secrets which will need a pretty close -searching out.</p> - -<p>Of course I could not copy out all of the poems even in -<span class="smcap">Theeothaworldie</span>, Volume I., and I took very few from Volumes -II. and III. I chose what I liked best—those that, when I read them, -never failed to carry me away, as if on a Magic Carpet, or in Seven -League Boots, into a region of their own. When the nightingale sings, -other birds, it is said, will sit and listen to him: and I remember -very well hearing a nightingale so singing on a spray in a dewy hedge, -and there were many small birds perched mute and quiet near. The cock -crows at midnight; and for miles around his kinsmen answer. The fowler -whistles his decoy for the wild duck to come. So certain rhymes and -poems affected my mind when I was young, and continue to do so now that -I am old.</p> - -<p>To these (and the few bits of prose) which I chose from Mr. Nahum, I -added others afterwards, and they are in this book too. All of them are -in English; a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxiv" id="Page_xxxiv">[xxxiv]</a></span> from over the ocean: but how very few they all are -by comparison with the multitudes even of their own kind. And there are -the whole world's languages besides! Even of my own favourites not all -have found a place. There was not room enough. I have left out others -also that may be found easily elsewhere. I am afraid, too, there may be -many mistakes in my copying, though I have tried to be careful.</p> - -<p>Miss Taroone knew that I was making use of Mr. Nahum's book; though she -never questioned me about it. I came and went in her house at last like -a rabbit in a warren, a mouse in a mousery. The hours I spent in those -far-gone days in Mr. Nahum's round room! At times I wearied of it, and -hated his books, and even wished I had never so much as set eyes on -Thrae at all.</p> - -<p>But after such sour moments, a gossip and an apple with Linnet Sara -in her kitchen, or a scamper home, or a bathe under the hazels in the -stream whose source, I believe, is in the hills beyond East Dene, -would set me to rights again. For sheer joy of return I could scarcely -breathe for a while after remounting the stone staircase, re-entering -Mr. Nahum's room, and closing the door behind me.</p> - -<p>From above his broad scrawled pages I would lift my eyes to his windows -and stare as if out of one dream into another. How strange from across -the sky was the gentle scented breeze blowing in on my cheek, softly -stirring the dried kingfisher skin that hung from its beam; how near -understanding then the tongues of the wild birds; how close the painted -scene—as though I were but a picture too, and this my frame.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxv" id="Page_xxxv">[xxxv]</a></span></p> - -<p>But there came a day that was to remove me out of the neighbourhood -of Miss Taroone's Thrae into a different kind of living altogether. I -was to be sent to school. After a hot debate with myself, and why I -scarcely know, I asked my father's permission to spend the night at -Miss Taroone's. He gave me a steady look and said, Yes.</p> - -<p>I found Miss Taroone seated on the steps of her porch, and now that I -look back at her then, she curiously reminds me—though she was ages -older—of a picture you will find in the second stanza of poem No. -233 in this book. Standing before her—it was already getting towards -dark—I said I was come to bid her goodbye; and might I spend the night -in Mr. Nahum's round room. She raised her eyes on me, luminous and -mysterious as the sky itself, even though in the dusk.</p> - -<p>"You may <i>say</i>, goodbye, Simon," she replied; "but unless I myself am -much mistaken in you, your feet will not carry you out of all thought -of me; and some day they will return to me whether you will or not."</p> - -<p>Inside I was already in a flutter at thought of the hours to come, and -I was accustomed to her strange speeches, though this struck on my mind -more coldly than usual. I made a little jerk forwards; "I must thank -you, please Miss Taroone, for having been so kind to me," I gulped in -an awkward voice. "And I hope," I added, as she made no answer, "I hope -I haven't been much of a bother—coming like this, I mean?"</p> - -<p>"None, Simon;" was her sole reply. The hand that I had begun to hold -out, went back into my pocket, and feeling extremely uncomfortable I -half turned away.</p> - -<p>"Why, who knows?—" said the solemn voice, "Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxvi" id="Page_xxxvi">[xxxvi]</a></span> Nahum may at this very -moment be riding home. Have a candle alight."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Miss Taroone. Thank you very much indeed."</p> - -<p>With that I turned about and hastened across the darkening garden into -the house. My candlestick and matches stood ready on the old oak bench -at the foot of the tower. I lit up, and began to climb the cold steps. -My heart in my mouth, I hesitated at the hob-nailed door; but managed -at last to turn the key in the lock.</p> - -<p>With two taller candles kindled, and its curtains drawn over the -western window, I at once began to copy out the last few things I -wanted for mine in Volume I. But there were two minds in me as midnight -drew on, almost two selves, the one busy with pen and ink, the other -stealthily listening to every faintest sound in my eyrie, a swift -glance now and then up at the darkened glass only setting me more -sharply to work. I had never before sat in so enormous a silence; the -scratching of my pen its only tongue.</p> - -<p>Steadily burned my candles; no sound of hoofs, no owl-cry, no knocking -disturbed my peace; the nightingales had long since journeyed South. -What I had hoped for, expected, dreaded in this long vigil, I cannot -recall; all that I remember of it is that I began to shiver a little at -last, partly because my young nerves were on the stretch, and partly -because the small hours grew chill. In the very middle of the night -there came to my ear what seemed a distant talking or gabbling. It -may have been fancy; it may have been Linnet Sara. What certainly was -fancy is the notion that, as I started up out of an instant's drowse, -a stooping shape had swiftly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxvii" id="Page_xxxvii">[xxxvii]</a></span> withdrawn itself from me. But this was -merely the shadow of a dream.</p> - -<p>I returned at last from the heavy sleep I had fallen into, my forehead -resting on the backs of my hands, and they flat on the huge open -volume, my whole body stiff with cold, and the first clear grey of -daybreak in the East. And suddenly, as my awakened eyes stared dully -about them in that thin light—the old windows, the strange outlandish -objects, the clustering pictures, the countless books, my own ugly -writing on my paper—an indescribable despair and anxiety—almost -terror even—seized upon me at the rushing thought of my own -<i>ignorance</i>; of how little I knew, of how unimportant I was. And, again -and again, my ignorance. Then I thought of Miss Taroone, of Mr. Nahum, -of the life before me, and everything yet to do. And a sullen misery -swept up in me at these reflections. And once more I wished from the -bottom of my heart that I had never come to this house.</p> - -<p>But gradually the light broadened. And with it, confidence began to -return. The things around me that had seemed strange and hostile became -familiar again. I stood up and stretched myself and, I think, muttered -a prayer.</p> - -<p>To this day I see the marvellous countryside of that morning with -its hills and low thick mists and woodlands stretched like a painted -scene beneath the windows—and that finger of light from the risen Sun -presently piercing across the dark air, and as if by a miracle causing -birds and water to awake and sing and shine.</p> - -<p>With a kind of grief that was yet rapture in my mind, I stood looking -out over the cold lichen-crusted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxviii" id="Page_xxxviii">[xxxviii]</a></span> shingled roof of Thrae—towards -the East and towards those far horizons. Yet again the apprehension -(that was almost a hope) drew over me that at any moment wall and -chimney-shaft might thin softly away, and the Transformation Scene -begin. I was but just awake: and so too was the world itself, and ever -is. And somewhere—Wall or no Wall—was my mother's East Dene....</p> - -<p>In a while I crept softly downstairs, let myself out, and ran off into -the morning. Having climbed the hill from which I had first stared down -upon Thrae, I stopped for a moment to recover my breath, and looked -back. I looked back.</p> - -<p>The gilding sun-rays beat low upon the house in the valley. All was -still, wondrous, calm. For a moment my heart misgave me at this -farewell. The next, in sheer excitement—the cold sweet air, the -height, the morning, a few keen beckoning stars—I broke into a kind -of Indian war-dance in the thin dewy grass, and then, with a last wave -of my hand, like Mr. Nahum himself, I set off at a sharp walk on the -journey that has not yet come to an end.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_001" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_001.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - -<h2>MORNING AND MAY</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_1"><a href="#note_1">1</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THIS IS THE KEY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This is the Key of the Kingdom:</div> - <div>In that Kingdom is a city;</div> - <div>In that city is a town;</div> - <div>In that town there is a street;</div> - <div>In that street there winds a lane;</div> - <div>In that lane there is a yard;</div> - <div>In that yard there is a house;</div> - <div>In that house there waits a room;</div> - <div>In that room an empty bed;</div> - <div>And on that bed a basket—</div> - <div>A Basket of Sweet Flowers:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Of Flowers, of Flowers;</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>A Basket of Sweet Flowers</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Flowers in a Basket;</div> - <div>Basket on the bed;</div> - <div>Bed in the chamber;</div> - <div>Chamber in the house;</div> - <div>House in the weedy yard;</div> - <div>Yard in the winding lane;</div> - <div>Lane in the broad street;</div> - <div>Street in the high town;</div> - <div>Town in the city;</div> - <div>City in the Kingdom—</div> - <div>This is the Key of the Kingdom.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Of the Kingdom this is the Key.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_2">2</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A NEW YEAR CAROL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here we bring new water</div> - <div class="i1">from the well so clear,</div> - <div>For to worship God with,</div> - <div class="i1">this happy New Year.</div> - <div>Sing levy dew, sing levy dew,</div> - <div class="i1">the water and the wine;</div> - <div>The seven bright gold wires</div> - <div class="i1">and the bugles that do shine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sing reign of Fair Maid,</div> - <div class="i1">with gold upon her toe,—</div> - <div>Open you the West Door,</div> - <div class="i1">and turn the Old Year go.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sing reign of Fair Maid</div> - <div class="i1">with gold upon her chin,—</div> - <div>Open you the East Door,</div> - <div class="i1">and let the New Year in.</div> - <div>Sing levy dew, sing levy dew,</div> - <div class="i1">the water and the wine;</div> - <div>The seven bright gold wires</div> - <div class="i1">and the bugles they do shine.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_3"><a href="#note_3">3</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HEY! NOW THE DAY DAWNS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Hay, nou the day dauis;</div> - <div>The jolie Cok crauis;</div> - <div>Nou shroudis the shauis,</div> - <div class="i1">Throu Natur anone.</div> - <div>The thissell-cok cryis</div> - <div>On louers wha lyis,</div> - <div>Nou skaillis the skyis;</div> - <div class="i1">The nicht is neir gone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The feildis ouerflouis</div> - <div>With gowans that grouis,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></div> - <div>Quhair lilies lyk lou is,</div> - <div class="i1">Als rid as the rone.</div> - <div>The turtill that true is,</div> - <div>With nots that reneuis,</div> - <div>Hir pairtie perseuis;</div> - <div class="i1">The nicht is neir gone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Nou Hairtis with Hyndis,</div> - <div>Conforme to thair kyndis,</div> - <div>Hie tursis thair tyndis,</div> - <div class="i1">On grund whair they grone.</div> - <div>Nou Hurchonis, with Hairis,</div> - <div>Ay passis in pairis;</div> - <div>Quhilk deuly declaris</div> - <div class="i1">The nicht is neir gone...."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Hey! now the day dawns;</div> - <div>The jolly Cock crows;</div> - <div>Thick-leaved the greenshaws,</div> - <div class="i1">Through Nature anon.</div> - <div>The thistle-cock cries</div> - <div>On lovers who lies,</div> - <div>All cloudless the skies;</div> - <div class="i1">The night is near gone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The fields overflow</div> - <div>With daisies a-blow,</div> - <div>And lilies like fire shine,</div> - <div class="i1">And red is the rowan.</div> - <div>The wood-dove that true is</div> - <div>Her crooling reneweth,</div> - <div>And her sweet mate pursueth;</div> - <div class="i1">The night is near gone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Now Harts with their Hinds</div> - <div>Conform to their kinds,</div> - <div>They vaunt their branched antlers,</div> - <div class="i1">They bell and they groan.</div> - <div>Now Urchins<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> and Hares</div> - <div>Keep apassing in pairs;</div> - <div>Which duly declares</div> - <div class="i1">The night is near gone...."</div> - <div class="i4 smcap">Alexander Montgomerie</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_4"><a href="#note_4">4</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SLUGGARD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Tis the voice of a sluggard; I heard him complain—</div> - <div>"You have waked me too soon; I must slumber again;"</div> - <div>As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,</div> - <div>Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"A little more sleep, and a little more slumber"—</div> - <div>Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number;</div> - <div>And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands,</div> - <div>Or walks about saunt'ring, or trifling he stands.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I passed by his garden, and saw the wild brier</div> - <div>The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher;</div> - <div>The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;</div> - <div>And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I made him a visit, still hoping to find</div> - <div>That he took better care for improving his mind;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></div> - <div>He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drinking,</div> - <div>But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Said I then to my heart: "Here's a lesson for me;</div> - <div>That man's but a picture of what I might be;</div> - <div>But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding,</div> - <div>Who taught me betimes to love working and reading."</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">Isaac Watts</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_5">5</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HARK, HARK, THE LARK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heaven's gate sings,</div> - <div class="i1">And Phoebus 'gins arise,</div> - <div>His Steeds to water at those Springs</div> - <div class="i1">On chaliced Flowres that lyes:</div> - <div>And winking Mary-buds begin</div> - <div class="i1">To ope their Golden eyes:</div> - <div>With every thing that pretty is,</div> - <div class="i1">My Lady sweet, arise:</div> - <div class="i5">Arise, arise!</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_6"><a href="#note_6">6</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LARK NOW LEAVES HIS WATERY NEST</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The lark now leaves his watery nest,</div> - <div class="i1">And climbing shakes his dewy wings;</div> - <div>He takes your window for the East,</div> - <div class="i1">And to implore your light, he sings:</div> - <div>Awake, awake! the morn will never rise</div> - <div>Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,</div> - <div class="i1">The ploughman from the sun his season takes;</div> - <div>But still the lover wonders what they are</div> - <div class="i1">Who look for day before his mistress wakes:</div> - <div>Awake, awake! break through your veils of lawn;</div> - <div>Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Sir William Davenant</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_7">7</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>EARLY MORN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I did wake this morn from sleep,</div> - <div class="i1">It seemed I heard birds in a dream;</div> - <div>Then I arose to take the air—</div> - <div class="i1">The lovely air that made birds scream;</div> - <div>Just as a green hill launched the ship</div> - <div>Of gold, to take its first clear dip.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And it began its journey then,</div> - <div class="i1">As I came forth to take the air;</div> - <div>The timid Stars had vanished quite,</div> - <div class="i1">The Moon was dying with a stare;</div> - <div>Horses, and kine, and sheep were seen</div> - <div>As still as pictures, in fields green.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It seemed as though I had surprised</div> - <div class="i1">And trespassed in a golden world</div> - <div>That should have passed while men still slept!</div> - <div class="i1">The joyful birds, the ship of gold,</div> - <div>The horses, kine and sheep did seem</div> - <div>As they would vanish for a dream.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William H. Davies</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_8">8</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GOOD-MORROW</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day!</div> - <div class="i1">With night we banish sorrow.</div> - <div>Sweet air, blow soft, mount, lark, aloft</div> - <div class="i1">To give my Love good morrow.</div> - <div>Wings from the wind to please her mind,</div> - <div class="i1">Notes from the lark I'll borrow:</div> - <div>Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing,</div> - <div class="i1">To give my Love good morrow!</div> - <div class="i2">To give my Love good morrow</div> - <div class="i2">Notes from them all I'll borrow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast!</div> - <div class="i1">Sing, birds, in every furrow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></div> - <div>And from each bill let music shrill</div> - <div class="i1">Give my fair Love good morrow!</div> - <div>Blackbird and thrush in every bush,</div> - <div class="i1">Stare,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> linnet, and cock-sparrow,</div> - <div>You pretty elves, amongst yourselves</div> - <div class="i1">Sing my fair Love good morrow!</div> - <div class="i2">To give my Love good morrow</div> - <div class="i2">Sing, birds, in every furrow!</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Thomas Heywood</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_9"><a href="#note_9">9</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE QUESTION</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,</div> - <div class="i1">Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,</div> - <div>And gentle odours led my steps astray,</div> - <div class="i1">Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring</div> - <div>Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay</div> - <div class="i1">Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling</div> - <div>Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,</div> - <div>But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,</div> - <div class="i1">Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,</div> - <div>The constellated flower that never sets;</div> - <div class="i1">Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth</div> - <div>The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—</div> - <div class="i1">Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—</div> - <div>Its mother's face with heaven's collected tears,</div> - <div>When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,</div> - <div class="i1">Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured May</div> - <div>And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine</div> - <div class="i1">Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;</div> - <div>And wild roses, and ivy serpentine</div> - <div class="i1">With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;</div> - <div>And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,</div> - <div>Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And nearer to the river's trembling edge</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white,</div> - <div>And starry river-buds among the sedge,</div> - <div class="i1">And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,</div> - <div>Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge</div> - <div class="i1">With moonlight beams of their own watery light;</div> - <div>And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green</div> - <div>As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Methought that of these visionary flowers</div> - <div class="i1">I made a nosegay, bound in such a way</div> - <div>That the same hues, which in their natural bowers</div> - <div class="i1">Were mingled or opposed, the like array</div> - <div>Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours</div> - <div class="i1">Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,</div> - <div>I hastened to the spot whence I had come,</div> - <div>That I might there present it—oh! to Whom?</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_10">10</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FRESH AIR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The fresh air moves like water round a boat.</div> - <div class="i1">The white clouds wander. Let us wander too.</div> - <div>The whining, wavering plover flap and float.</div> - <div class="i1">That crow is flying after that cuckoo.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Look! Look!... They're gone. What are the great trees calling?</div> - <div class="i1">Just come a little farther, by that edge</div> - <div>Of green, to where the stormy ploughland, falling</div> - <div class="i1">Wave upon wave, is lapping to the hedge.</div> - <div>Oh, what a lovely bank! Give me your hand.</div> - <div class="i1">Lie down and press your heart against the ground.</div> - <div>Let us both listen till we understand,</div> - <div class="i1">Each through the other, every natural sound...</div> - <div class="i3">I can't hear anything to-day, can you,</div> - <div class="i3">But, far and near: "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"?</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">Harold Monro</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_11">11</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WEATHERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This is the weather the cuckoo likes,</div> - <div class="i5">And so do I;</div> - <div>When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,</div> - <div class="i5">And nestlings fly:</div> - <div>And the little brown nightingale bills his best,</div> - <div>And they sit outside at "The Travellers' Rest,"</div> - <div>And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest,</div> - <div>And citizens dream of the south and west,</div> - <div class="i5">And so do I.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This is the weather the shepherd shuns,</div> - <div class="i5">And so do I;</div> - <div>When beeches drip in browns and duns,</div> - <div class="i5">And thresh, and ply;</div> - <div>And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe,</div> - <div>And meadow rivulets overflow,</div> - <div>And drops on gate-bars hang in a row,</div> - <div>And rooks in families homeward go,</div> - <div class="i5">And so do I.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Thomas Hardy</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_12">12</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GREEN RAIN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Into the scented woods we'll go,</div> - <div>And see the blackthorn swim in snow.</div> - <div>High above, in the budding leaves,</div> - <div>A brooding dove awakes and grieves;</div> - <div>The glades with mingled music stir,</div> - <div>And wildly laughs the woodpecker.</div> - <div>When blackthorn petals pearl the breeze,</div> - <div>There are the twisted hawthorn trees</div> - <div>Thick-set with buds, as clear and pale</div> - <div>As golden water or green hail—</div> - <div>As if a storm of rain had stood</div> - <div>Enchanted in the thorny wood,</div> - <div>And, hearing fairy voices call,</div> - <div>Hung poised, forgetting how to fall.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Mary Webb</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_13"><a href="#note_13">13</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG ON MAY MORNING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,</div> - <div>Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her</div> - <div>The Flowry <i>May</i>, who from her green lap throws</div> - <div>The yellow Cowslip and the pale Primrose.</div> - <div class="i2">Hail, bounteous <i>May</i>, that dost inspire</div> - <div class="i2">Mirth and youth and young desire,</div> - <div class="i2">Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,</div> - <div class="i2">Hill and Dale doth boast thy blessing.</div> - <div>Thus we salute thee with our early Song,</div> - <div class="i2">And welcome thee, and wish thee long.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">John Milton</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_14"><a href="#note_14">14</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SISTER, AWAKE!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sister, awake! close not your eyes.</div> - <div class="i1">The day her light discloses,</div> - <div>And the bright morning doth arise</div> - <div class="i1">Out of her bed of roses.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>See the clear sun, the world's bright eye,</div> - <div class="i1">In at our window peeping:</div> - <div>Lo, how he blusheth to espy</div> - <div class="i1">Us idle wenches sleeping!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Therefore awake! make haste, I say,</div> - <div class="i1">And let us, without staying,</div> - <div>All in our gowns of green so gay</div> - <div class="i1">Into the park a-maying.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_15">15</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HERE WE COME A-PIPING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here we come a-piping,</div> - <div>In Springtime and in May;</div> - <div>Green fruit a-ripening,</div> - <div>And Winter fled away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Queen she sits upon the strand,</div> - <div>Fair as lily, white as wand;</div> - <div>Seven billows on the sea,</div> - <div>Horses riding fast and free,</div> - <div>And bells beyond the sand.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_16">16</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AS WE DANCE ROUND</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As we dance round a-ring-a-ring,</div> - <div>A maiden goes a-maying;</div> - <div>And here a flower, and there a flower,</div> - <div>Through mead and meadow straying:</div> - <div>O gentle one, why dost thou weep?—</div> - <div>Silver to spend with; gold to keep;</div> - <div>Till spin the green round World asleep,</div> - <div>And Heaven its dews be staying.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_17"><a href="#note_17">17</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OLD MAY SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All in this pleasant evening, together come are we,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay</i>;</div> - <div>We tell you of a blossoming and buds on every tree,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Drawing near unto the merry month of May</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Rise up, the master of this house, put on your charm of gold,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay</i>;</div> - <div>Be not in pride offended with your name we make so bold,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Drawing near unto the merry month of May</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Rise up, the mistress of this house, with gold along your breast;</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the summer springs so fresh, green and gay</i>;</div> - <div>And if your body be asleep, we hope your soul's at rest,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Drawing near unto the merry month of May</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Rise up, the children of this house, all in your rich attire,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay</i>;</div> - <div>And every hair upon your heads shines like the silver wire:</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Drawing near unto the merry month of May</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>God bless this house and arbour, your riches and your store,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay</i>;</div> - <div>We hope the Lord will prosper you, both now and evermore,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Drawing near unto the merry month of May</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And now comes we must leave you, in peace and plenty here,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay</i>;</div> - <div>We shall not sing you May again until another year,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>To draw you these cold winters away</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_18">18</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG OF THE MAYERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Remember us poor Mayers all,</div> - <div class="i1">And thus do we begin,</div> - <div>To lead our lives in righteousness,</div> - <div class="i1">Or else we die in sin.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We have been rambling all the night,</div> - <div class="i1">And almost all the day,</div> - <div>And now returning back again,</div> - <div class="i1">We have brought you a bunch of May.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A bunch of May we have brought you,</div> - <div class="i1">And at your door it stands,</div> - <div>It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out</div> - <div class="i1">By the work of our Lord's hands.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The hedges and trees they are so green,</div> - <div class="i1">As green as any leek,</div> - <div>Our Heavenly Father, He watered them</div> - <div class="i1">With his heavenly dew so sweet.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The heavenly gates are open wide,</div> - <div class="i1">Our paths are beaten plain,</div> - <div>And if a man be not too far gone,</div> - <div class="i1">He may return again.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The life of man is but a span,</div> - <div class="i1">It flourishes like a flower;</div> - <div>We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow,</div> - <div class="i1">And are dead in an hour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light,</div> - <div class="i1">A little before it is day,</div> - <div>God bless you all, both great and small,</div> - <div class="i1">And send you a joyful May.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_19"><a href="#note_19">19</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AND AS FOR ME</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... And as for me, thogh that I can but lyte,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></div> - <div>On bokės for to rede I me delyte,</div> - <div>And to hem yeve<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> I feyth and ful credènce,</div> - <div>And in myn herte have hem in reverence</div> - <div>So hertėley, that there is gamė noon</div> - <div>That fro my bokės maketh me to goon,</div> - <div>But hit be seldom on the holyday,</div> - <div>Save, certeynly, whan that the month of May</div> - <div>Is comen, and that I here the foulės<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> singe</div> - <div>And that the flourės ginnen for to springe,—</div> - <div>Farewel my boke, and my devocioun!</div> - <div class="i1">Now have I than swich<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> a condicioun,</div> - <div>That, of alle the flourės in the mede,</div> - <div>Than love I most these flourės whyte and rede,</div> - <div>Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun.</div> - <div>To hem have I so greet affeccioun,</div> - <div>As I seyde erst, whan comen is the May,</div> - <div>That in my bed ther daweth me no day,</div> - <div>That I nam up, and walking in the mede,</div> - <div>To seen this flour agein the sonnė sprede,</div> - <div>When hit uprysith erly by the morwe;</div> - <div>That blisful sightė softneth all my sorwė<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>....</div> - <div class="i1">And whan that hit is eve, I rennė blyve,<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></div> - <div>As soon as evere the sonnė ginneth weste,</div> - <div>To seen this flour, how it wol go to reste,</div> - <div>For fere of nyght, so hateth she derknesse!...</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Geoffrey Chaucer</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_20"><a href="#note_20">20</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SPRING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What bird so sings, yet so does wail?</div> - <div>O, 'tis the ravished nightingale!</div> - <div>"<i>Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu</i>," she cries,</div> - <div>And still her woes at midnight rise.</div> - <div>Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear?</div> - <div>None but the lark so shrill and clear;</div> - <div>Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings,</div> - <div>The morn not waking till she sings.</div> - <div>Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat</div> - <div>Poor robin-redbreast tunes his note;</div> - <div>Hark, how the jolly cuckoos sing</div> - <div><i>Cuckoo</i>—to welcome in the spring!</div> - <div><i>Cuckoo</i>—to welcome in the spring!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Lyly</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_21"><a href="#note_21">21</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SPRING, THE SWEET SPRING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;</div> - <div>Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,</div> - <div>Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Palm and May make country houses gay,</div> - <div>Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,</div> - <div>And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,</div> - <div>Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,</div> - <div>In every street these tunes our ears do greet:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo!</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>Spring, the sweet Spring!</i></div> - <div class="i16 smcap">Thomas Nash</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_22"><a href="#note_22">22</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A MAY DAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... And now all nature seemed in love;</div> - <div>The lusty sap began to move;</div> - <div>New juice did stir the embracing vines,</div> - <div>27113 -And birds had drawn their valentines.</div> - <div>The jealous trout that now did lie,</div> - <div>Rose at a well-dissembled fly:</div> - <div>There stood my friend with patient skill,</div> - <div>Attending of his trembling quill.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></div> - <div>Already were the eaves possessed</div> - <div>With the swift pilgrim's daubèd nest:</div> - <div>The groves already did rejoice</div> - <div>In Philomel's triumphing voice.</div> - <div>The showers were short, the weather mild,</div> - <div>The morning fresh, the evening smiled.</div> - <div>Joan takes her neat-rubbed pail and now</div> - <div>She trips to milk the sand-red cow;</div> - <div>Where, for some sturdy football swain,</div> - <div>Joan strokes<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> a sillabub or twain.</div> - <div>The field and gardens were beset</div> - <div>With tulip, crocus, violet;</div> - <div>And now, though late, the modest rose</div> - <div>Did more than half a blush disclose.</div> - <div>Thus all looked gay, all full of cheer,</div> - <div>To welcome the new-liveried year.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Sir Henry Wotton</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_23"><a href="#note_23">23</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>EASTER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I got me flowers to straw thy way,</div> - <div>I got me boughs off many a tree:</div> - <div>But thou wast up by break of day,</div> - <div>And brought'st thy sweets along with thee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Sun arising in the East,</div> - <div>Though he give light, and the East perfume,<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></div> - <div>If they should offer to contest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></div> - <div>With thy arising, they presume.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Can there be any day but this,</div> - <div>Though many sunnes to shine endeavour?</div> - <div>We count three hundred, but we misse:</div> - <div>There is but one, and that one ever.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">George Herbert</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_24"><a href="#note_24">24</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>PLEASURE IT IS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Pleasure it is</div> - <div class="i2">To hear, iwis,<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></div> - <div class="i1">The birdės sing.</div> - <div>The deer in the dale,</div> - <div>The sheep in the vale,</div> - <div class="i1">The corn springing;</div> - <div>God's purveyance</div> - <div>For sustenance</div> - <div class="i1">It is for man.</div> - <div>Then we always</div> - <div>To Him give praise,</div> - <div class="i1">And thank Him than,</div> - <div class="i1">And thank Him than.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">William Cornish</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_019" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_019.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>MOTHER, HOME AND SWEETHEART</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_25"><a href="#note_25">25</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>I SING OF A MAIDEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>I sing of a maiden</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>That is makeless,</i><a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></div> - <div><i>King of all Kings</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>To her son she ches.</i><a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He came all so still</div> - <div class="i1">Where his mother was,</div> - <div>As dew in April</div> - <div class="i1">That falleth on the grass.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He came all so still</div> - <div class="i1">To his mother's bower,</div> - <div>As dew in April</div> - <div class="i1">That falleth on the flower.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He came all so still</div> - <div class="i1">Where his mother lay,</div> - <div>As dew in April</div> - <div class="i1">That falleth on the spray.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Mother and maiden</div> - <div class="i1">Was never none but she;</div> - <div>Well may such a lady</div> - <div class="i1">God's mother be.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_26">26</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LULLABY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Upon my lap my sovereign sits</div> - <div>And sucks upon my breast;</div> - <div>Meantime his love maintains my life</div> - <div>And gives my sense her rest.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Sing lullaby, my little boy,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>Sing lullaby, mine only joy!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When thou hast taken thy repast,</div> - <div>Repose, my babe, on me;</div> - <div>So may thy mother and thy nurse</div> - <div>Thy cradle also be.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Sing lullaby, my little boy,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>Sing lullaby, mine only joy!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I grieve that duty doth not work</div> - <div>All that my wishing would,</div> - <div>Because I would not be to thee</div> - <div>But in the best I should.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Sing lullaby, my little boy,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>Sing lullaby, mine only joy!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet as I am, and as I may,</div> - <div>I must and will be thine,</div> - <div>Though all too little for thy self</div> - <div>Vouchsafing to be mine.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Sing lullaby, my little boy,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>Sing lullaby, mine only joy!</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Richard Rowlands</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_27">27</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LITTLE BLACK BOY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My mother bore me in the southern wild,</div> - <div>And I am black, but O! my soul is white;</div> - <div>White as an angel is the English child,</div> - <div>But I am black, as if bereaved of light.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My mother taught me underneath a tree,</div> - <div>And, sitting down before the heat of day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></div> - <div>She took me on her lap and kissèd me,</div> - <div>And, pointing to the east, began to say:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Look on the rising sun; there God does live,</div> - <div>And gives his light, and gives his heat away;</div> - <div>And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive</div> - <div>Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And we are put on earth a little space,</div> - <div>That we may learn to bear the beams of love;</div> - <div>And these black bodies and this sunburnt face</div> - <div>Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"For when our souls have learned the heat to bear,</div> - <div>The cloud will vanish; we shall hear his voice,</div> - <div>Saying: 'Come out from the grove, my love and care,</div> - <div>And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.'"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thus did my mother say, and kissèd me;</div> - <div>And thus I say to little English boy.</div> - <div>When I from black and he from white cloud free,</div> - <div>And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear</div> - <div>To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;</div> - <div>And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,</div> - <div>And be like him, and he will then love me.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_28">28</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE ECHOING GREEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Sun does arise,</div> - <div>And make happy the skies;</div> - <div>The merry bells ring</div> - <div>To welcome the Spring;</div> - <div>The skylark and thrush,</div> - <div>The birds of the bush,</div> - <div>Sing louder around</div> - <div>To the bells' cheerful sound,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></div> - <div>While our sports shall be seen</div> - <div>On the Echoing Green.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Old John, with white hair,</div> - <div>Does laugh away care,</div> - <div>Sitting under the oak,</div> - <div>Among the old folk,</div> - <div>They laugh at our play,</div> - <div>And soon they all say:</div> - <div>"Such, such were the joys</div> - <div>When we all, girls and boys,</div> - <div>In our youth time were seen</div> - <div>On the Echoing Green."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Till the little ones, weary,</div> - <div>No more can be merry;</div> - <div>The sun does descend,</div> - <div>And our sports have an end.</div> - <div>Round the laps of their mothers</div> - <div>Many sisters and brothers,</div> - <div>Like birds in their nest,</div> - <div>Are ready for rest,</div> - <div>And sport no more seen</div> - <div>On the darkening Green.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_29"><a href="#note_29">29</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IF I HAD BUT TWO LITTLE WINGS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If I had but two little wings</div> - <div class="i1">And were a little feathery bird,</div> - <div class="i2">To you I'd fly, my dear!</div> - <div>But thoughts like these are idle things,</div> - <div class="i3">And I stay here.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But in my sleep to you I fly:</div> - <div class="i1">I'm always with you in my sleep!</div> - <div class="i2">The world is all one's own.</div> - <div>But then one wakes, and where am I?</div> - <div class="i3">All, all alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids:</div> - <div class="i1">So I love to wake ere break of day:</div> - <div class="i2">For though my sleep be gone,</div> - <div>Yet while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids,</div> - <div class="i3">And still dreams on.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_30"><a href="#note_30">30</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>I REMEMBER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I remember, I remember,</div> - <div>The house where I was born,</div> - <div>The little window where the sun</div> - <div>Came peeping in at morn;</div> - <div>He never came a wink too soon,</div> - <div>Nor brought too long a day;</div> - <div>But now, I often wish the night</div> - <div>Had borne my breath away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I remember, I remember,</div> - <div>The roses, red and white,</div> - <div>The violets, and the lily-cups!—</div> - <div>Those flowers made of light!</div> - <div>The lilacs where the robin built,</div> - <div>And where my brother set</div> - <div>The laburnum on his birth-day,—</div> - <div>The tree is living yet!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I remember, I remember,</div> - <div>Where I was used to swing,</div> - <div>And thought the air must rush as fresh</div> - <div>To swallows on the wing;</div> - <div>My spirit flew in feathers then,</div> - <div>That is so heavy now,</div> - <div>And summer pools could hardly cool</div> - <div>The fever on my brow!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I remember, I remember,</div> - <div>The fir trees dark and high;</div> - <div>I used to think their slender tops</div> - <div>Were close against the sky:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></div> - <div>It was a childish ignorance,</div> - <div>But now 'tis little joy</div> - <div>To know I'm farther off from Heaven</div> - <div>Than when I was a boy.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Thomas Hood</div> - </div> - - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_31">31</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In the third-class seat sat the journeying boy,</div> - <div class="i1">And the roof-lamp's oily flame</div> - <div>Played down on his listless form and face,</div> - <div>Bewrapt past knowing to what he was going,</div> - <div class="i4">Or whence he came.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In the band of his hat the journeying boy</div> - <div class="i1">Had a ticket stuck; and a string</div> - <div>Around his neck bore the key of his box,</div> - <div>That twinkled gleams of the lamp's sad beams</div> - <div class="i4">Like a living thing.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What past can be yours, O journeying boy</div> - <div class="i1">Towards a world unknown,</div> - <div>Who calmly, as if incurious quite</div> - <div>On all at stake, can undertake</div> - <div class="i4">This plunge alone?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Knows your soul a sphere, O journeying boy,</div> - <div class="i1">Our rude realms far above,</div> - <div>Whence with spacious vision you mark and mete</div> - <div>This region of sin that you find you in,</div> - <div class="i4">But are not of?</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Thomas Hardy</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_32"><a href="#note_32">32</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE RUNAWAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Once when the sun of the year was beginning to fall</div> - <div>We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, "Whose colt?</div> - <div>A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,</div> - <div>The other curled at his heart. He dipped his head</div> - <div>And snorted to us; and then he had to bolt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></div> - <div>We heard the muffled thunder when he fled</div> - <div>And we saw him or thought we saw him dim and grey</div> - <div>Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes.</div> - <div>We said, "The little fellow's afraid of the snow.</div> - <div>He isn't winter broken." "It isn't play</div> - <div>With the little fellow at all. He's running away.</div> - <div>I doubt if even his mother could tell him, 'Sakes,</div> - <div>It's only weather.' He'd think she didn't know.</div> - <div>Where is his mother? He can't be out alone."</div> - <div>And now he comes again with a clatter of stone</div> - <div>And mounts the wall again with whited eyes</div> - <div>And all his tail that isn't hair up straight.</div> - <div>He shudders his coat as if to throw off flies.</div> - <div>Whoever it is that leaves him out so late</div> - <div>When everything else has gone to stall and bin</div> - <div>Ought to be told to go and bring him in.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">Robert Frost</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_33">33</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ON EASTNOR KNOLL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Silent are the woods, and the dim green boughs are</div> - <div>Hushed in the twilight: yonder, in the path through</div> - <div>The apple orchard, is a tired plough-boy</div> - <div>Calling the cows home.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A bright white star blinks, the pale moon rounds, but</div> - <div>Still the red, lurid wreckage of the sunset</div> - <div>Smoulders in smoky fire, and burns on</div> - <div>The misty hill-tops.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ghostly it grows, and darker, the burning</div> - <div>Fades into smoke, and now the gusty oaks are</div> - <div>A silent army of phantoms thronging</div> - <div>A land of shadows.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">John Masefield</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_34">34</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"HOME NO MORE HOME TO ME"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?</div> - <div class="i1">Hunger my driver, I go where I must.</div> - <div>Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather;</div> - <div class="i1">Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust.</div> - <div>Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree.</div> - <div class="i1">The true word of welcome was spoken in the door—</div> - <div>Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight,</div> - <div class="i1">Kind folks of old, you come again no more.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces,</div> - <div class="i1">Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child,</div> - <div>Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;</div> - <div class="i1">Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild.</div> - <div>Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland,</div> - <div class="i1">Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold.</div> - <div>Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed,</div> - <div class="i1">The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moor-fowl,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers;</div> - <div>Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley,</div> - <div class="i1">Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours;</div> - <div>Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood—</div> - <div class="i1">Fair shine the day on the house with open door;</div> - <div>Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney—</div> - <div class="i1">But I go for ever and come again no more.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_35"><a href="#note_35">35</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DALYAUNCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mundus.</i><span class="i1">Welcome, fayre chylde, what is thy name?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Infans.</i><span class="i2">I wote not, syr, withouten blame.</span></div> - <div class="i4h">But ofte tyme my moder in her game</div> - <div class="i4h">Callèd me dalyaunce.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mundus.</i><span class="i1">Dalyaunce, my swetė chylde,</span></div> - <div class="i4h">It is a name that is ryght wylde,</div> - <div class="i4h">For whan thou waxest olde.</div> - <div class="i4h">It is a name of no substaunce</div> - <div class="i4h">But, my fayre chylde, what woldest thou have?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Infans.</i><span class="i2">Syr of some comforte I you crave—</span></div> - <div class="i4h">Mete and clothe my lyfe to save:</div> - <div class="i4h">And I your true servaunt shall be.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mundus.</i><span class="i1">Fayre chylde, I graunte thee thyne askynge.</span></div> - <div class="i4h">I wyll thee fynde<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> whyle thou art yinge<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></div> - <div class="i4h">So thou wylte be obedyent to my byddynge.</div> - <div class="i4h">These garments gaye I gyve to thee.</div> - <div class="i4h">And also I gyve to thee a name,</div> - <div class="i4h">And clepe<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> thee Wanton, in every game;</div> - <div class="i4h">Tyll XIII yere be come and gone,</div> - <div class="i4h">And than come agayne to me.</div> - </div> - -<p class="p-left center">[<i>Infans is now called Wanton.</i>]</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Wanton.</i><span class="i1">Gramercy, Worlde, for myne araye,</span></div> - <div class="i4h">For now I purpose me to playe.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mundus.</i><span class="i1">Fare well, fayre chylde, and have good daye.</span></div> - <div class="i4h">All rychelesnesse<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> is kynde<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> for thee.</div> - </div> - -<p class="p-left center">[<i>Mundus goes out leaving Wanton alone.</i>]</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Wanton.</i><span class="i1">Aha, Wanton is my name!</span></div> - <div class="i4h">I can many a quayntė game.</div> - <div class="i4h">Lo, my toppe I dryve in same,</div> - <div class="i4h">Se, it torneth rounde!</div> - <div class="i4h">I can with my scorgė-stycke</div> - <div class="i4h">My felowe upon the heed hytte,</div> - <div class="i4h">And wyghtly<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> from hym make a skyppe</div> - <div class="i4h">And blere<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> on hym my tonge.</div> - <div class="i4h">If brother or syster do me chyde</div> - <div class="i4h">I wyll scratche and also byte.</div> - <div class="i4h">I can crye, and also kyke,</div> - <div class="i4h">And mocke them all berewe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></div> - <div class="i4h">If fader or mother wyll me smyte,</div> - <div class="i4h">I wyll wryngė<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> with my lyppe;</div> - <div class="i4h">And lyghtly from hym make a skyppe;</div> - <div class="i4h">And call my damė shrewe.</div> - <div class="i4h">Aha, a newe game have I founde:</div> - <div class="i4h">Se this gynne<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> it renneth rounde;</div> - <div class="i4h">And here another have I founde,</div> - <div class="i4h">And yet mo<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> can I fynde.</div> - <div class="i4h">I can mowė<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> on a man;</div> - <div class="i4h">And make a lesynge<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> well I can,</div> - <div class="i4h">And mayntayne it ryght well than.</div> - <div class="i4h">This connynge<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> came me of kynde.</div> - <div class="i4h">Ye, syrs,<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> I can well gelde a snayle;</div> - <div class="i4h">And catche a cowe by the tayle;</div> - <div class="i4h">This is a fayre connynge!</div> - <div class="i4h">I can daunce, and also skyppe;</div> - <div class="i4h">I can playe at the chery pytte;</div> - <div class="i4h">And I can wystell you a fytte,<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></div> - <div class="i4h">Syres, in a whylowe ryne.<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></div> - <div class="i4h">Ye, syrs, and every daye</div> - <div class="i4h">Whan I to scole shall take the waye</div> - <div class="i4h">Some good mannes gardyn I wyll assaye,</div> - <div class="i4h">Perys<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> and plommes to plucke.</div> - <div class="i4h">I can spye a sparowes nest.</div> - <div class="i4h">I wyll not go to scole but whan me lest,</div> - <div class="i4h">For there begynneth a sory fest<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></div> - <div class="i4h">Whan the mayster sholde lyfte my docke.<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></div> - <div class="i4h">But, syrs, whan I was seven yere of age,</div> - <div class="i4h">I was sent to the Worlde to takė wage.</div> - <div class="i4h">And this seven yere I have ben his page</div> - <div class="i4h">And kept his commaundėment....</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_36">36</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CHRISTMAS AT SEA</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;</div> - <div>The wind was a nor'wester, blowing squally off the sea;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.</div> - <div>We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,</div> - <div>And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;</div> - <div>All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,</div> - <div>For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">So's we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The good red fires were burning bright in every 'longshore home;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;</div> - <div>And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer</div> - <div class="hangingindent">For it's just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)</div> - <div>This day of our adversity was blessèd Christmas morn,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the house above the coastguard's was the house where I was born.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,</div> - <div>My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair;</div> - <div>And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the shelves.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;</div> - <div>And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessèd Christmas Day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the captain call,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"By the Lord, she'll never stand it," our first mate, Jackson, cried.</div> - <div>... "It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson," he replied.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood.</div> - <div>As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the night,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,</div> - <div>As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;</div> - <div>But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_37">37</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TWILIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The twilight is sad and cloudy,</div> - <div class="i1">The wind blows wild and free,</div> - <div>And like the wings of sea-birds</div> - <div class="i1">Flash the white caps of the sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But in the fisherman's cottage</div> - <div class="i1">There shines a ruddier light,</div> - <div>And a little face at the window</div> - <div class="i1">Peers out into the night.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Close, close it is pressed to the window,</div> - <div class="i1">As if those childish eyes</div> - <div>Were looking into the darkness,</div> - <div class="i1">To see some form arise.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And a woman's waving shadow</div> - <div class="i1">Is passing to and fro,</div> - <div>Now rising to the ceiling,</div> - <div class="i1">Now bowing and bending low.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What tale do the roaring ocean,</div> - <div class="i1">And the night-wind, bleak and wild,</div> - <div>As they beat at the crazy casement,</div> - <div class="i1">Tell to that little child?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And why do the roaring ocean,</div> - <div class="i1">And the night-wind, wild and bleak,</div> - <div>As they beat at the heart of the mother,</div> - <div class="i1">Drive the colour from her cheek?</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_38">38</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"HOW'S MY BOY?"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Ho, sailor of the sea!</div> - <div>How's my boy—my boy?"</div> - <div>"What's your boy's name, good wife,</div> - <div>And in what good ship sailed he?"</div> - <div>"My boy John—</div> - <div>He that went to sea—</div> - <div>What care I for the ship, sailor?</div> - <div>My boy's my boy to me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"You come back from sea</div> - <div>And not know my John!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></div> - <div>I might as well have asked some landsman</div> - <div>Yonder down in the town.</div> - <div>There's not an ass in all the parish</div> - <div>But he knows my John.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"How's my boy—my boy?</div> - <div>And unless you let me know,</div> - <div>I'll swear you are no sailor,</div> - <div>Blue jacket or no,</div> - <div>Brass button or no, sailor,</div> - <div>Anchor and crown or no!</div> - <div>Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton."—</div> - <div>"Speak low, woman, speak low!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And why should I speak low, sailor,</div> - <div>About my own boy John?</div> - <div>If I was loud as I am proud</div> - <div>I'd sing him o'er the town!</div> - <div>Why should I speak low, sailor?"</div> - <div>"That good ship went down."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"How's my boy—my boy?</div> - <div>What care I for the ship, sailor,</div> - <div>I never was aboard her.</div> - <div>Be she afloat, or be she aground,</div> - <div>Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound,</div> - <div>Her owners can afford her!</div> - <div>I say, how's my John?"</div> - <div>"Every man on board went down,</div> - <div>Every man aboard her."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"How's my boy—my boy?</div> - <div>What care I for the men, sailor?</div> - <div>I'm not their mother—</div> - <div>How's my boy—my boy?</div> - <div>Tell me of him and no other!</div> - <div>How's my boy—my boy?"</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Sydney Dobell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_39">39</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CAM' YE BY?</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cam' ye by the salmon fishers?</div> - <div>Cam' ye by the roperee?</div> - <div>Saw ye a sailor laddie</div> - <div>Waiting on the coast for me?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I ken fahr<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> I'm gyain,<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></div> - <div>I ken fahs<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> gyain wi' me;</div> - <div>I ha'e a lad o' my ain,</div> - <div>Ye daurna tack 'im fae<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Stockings of blue silk,</div> - <div>Shoes of patent leather,</div> - <div>Kid to tie them up,</div> - <div>And gold rings on his finger.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh for six o'clock!</div> - <div>Oh for seven I weary!</div> - <div>Oh for eight o'clock!</div> - <div>And then I'll see my dearie.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_40"><a href="#note_40">40</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MY BOY TAMMY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy?</div> - <div class="i1">Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy?"</div> - <div class="i1">"I've been by burn and flow'ry brae,</div> - <div class="i1">Meadow green and mountain grey,</div> - <div>Courtin' o' this young thing just come frae her Mammy."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And whar gat ye that young thing, my boy Tammy?"</div> - <div class="i1">"I gat her down in yonder howe,<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></div> - <div class="i1">Smiling on a broomy knowe,<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></div> - <div>Herding ae wee Lamb and Ewe for her poor Mammy."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"What said ye to the bonny bairn, my boy Tammy?"</div> - <div class="i1">"I hae a house, it cost me dear,</div> - <div class="i1">I've walth o' plenishen and gear,<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></div> - <div class="hangingindent">Yese get it a', war't ten times mair, gin<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> ye will leave your Mammy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The smile gaed aff her bonny face—'I mauna leave my Mammy!</div> - <div class="i1">She's gi'en me meat, she's gi'en me claes,<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></div> - <div class="i1">She's been my comfort a' my days,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">My Father's death brought mony waes—I canna leave my Mammy.'"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"We'll tak her hame and mak her fain, my ain kind-hearted Lammy,</div> - <div class="i1">We'll gie her meat, we'll gi'e her claes,</div> - <div class="i1">We'll be her comfort a' her days:"</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The wee thing gi'es her hand, and says, "There, gang and ask my Mammy."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Has she been to kirk wi' thee, my boy Tammy?"</div> - <div class="i1">"She has been to kirk wi' me,</div> - <div class="i1">And the tear was in her ee,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But Oh! she's but a young thing just come frae her Mammy."</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">Hector Macneill</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_41"><a href="#note_41">41</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ROSY APPLE, LEMON, OR PEAR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Rosy apple, lemon, or pear,</div> - <div>Bunch of roses she shall wear;</div> - <div>Gold and silver by her side,</div> - <div>I know who will be the bride.</div> - <div>Take her by her lily-white hand,</div> - <div class="i1">Lead her to the altar;</div> - <div>Give her kisses,—one, two, three,—</div> - <div class="i1">Mother's runaway daughter.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_42"><a href="#note_42">42</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IN PRAISE OF ISABEL PENNELL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>By Saint Mary, my lady,</div> - <div>Your mammy and your daddy</div> - <div>Brought forth a goodly baby!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My maiden Isabell,—</div> - <div>Reflaring<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> rosabell,</div> - <div>The flagrant camamell,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The ruddy rosary,</div> - <div>The sovereign rosemary,</div> - <div>The pretty strawberry,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The columbine, the nepte,<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></div> - <div>The ieloffer<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> well set,</div> - <div>The proper violet,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ennewèd, your colour</div> - <div>Is like the daisy flower</div> - <div>After the April shower!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Star of the morrow gray,</div> - <div>The blossom on the spray,</div> - <div>The freshest flower of May;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Maidenly demure,</div> - <div>Of womanhood the lure,</div> - <div>Wherefore I make you sure:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It were an heavenly health,</div> - <div>It were an endless wealth,</div> - <div>A life for God himself,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To hear this nightingale,</div> - <div>Among the birdės smale,</div> - <div>Warbling in the vale:—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Dug, dug,</i></div> - <div><i>Iug, iug,</i></div> - <div><i>Good year and good luck,</i></div> - <div><i>With chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk!</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">John Skelton</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_43"><a href="#note_43">43</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MY SWEET SWEETING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She is so proper and so pure,</div> - <div>Full stedfast, stabill and demure,</div> - <div>There is none such, ye may be sure,</div> - <div class="i6">As my swete sweting.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In all thys world, as thynketh me,</div> - <div>Is none so plesaunt to my e'e,</div> - <div>That I am glad soo ofte to see,</div> - <div class="i6">As my swete swetyng.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I behold my swetyng swete,</div> - <div>Her face, her hands, her minion fete,</div> - <div>They seme to me there is none so mete,</div> - <div class="i6">As my swete swetyng.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Above all other prayse must I,</div> - <div>And love my pretty pygsnye,</div> - <div>For none I fynd so womanly</div> - <div class="i6">As my swete swetyng.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_44"><a href="#note_44">44</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SWEET STAY-AT-HOME</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content,</div> - <div>Thou knowest of no strange continent:</div> - <div>Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep</div> - <div>A gentle motion with the deep;</div> - <div>Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas,</div> - <div>Where scent comes forth in every breeze.</div> - <div>Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow</div> - <div>For miles, as far as eyes can go;</div> - <div>Thou hast not seen a summer's night</div> - <div>When maids could sew by a worm's light;</div> - <div>Nor the North Sea in spring send out</div> - <div>Bright hues that like birds flit about</div> - <div>In solid cages of white ice—</div> - <div>Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Love-one-place.</div> - <div>Thou hast not seen black fingers pick</div> - <div>White cotton when the bloom is thick,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></div> - <div>Nor heard black throats in harmony;</div> - <div>Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie</div> - <div>Flat on the earth, that once did rise</div> - <div>To hide proud kings from common eyes.</div> - <div>Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom</div> - <div>Where green things had such little room</div> - <div>They pleased the eye like fairer flowers—</div> - <div>Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours.</div> - <div>Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place,</div> - <div>Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face;</div> - <div>For thou hast made more homely stuff</div> - <div>Nurture thy gentle self enough;</div> - <div>I love thee for a heart that's kind—</div> - <div>Not for the knowledge in thy mind.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William H. Davies</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_45">45</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WAITING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Rich in the waning light she sat</div> - <div>While the fierce rain on the window spat.</div> - <div>The yellow lamp-glow lit her face,</div> - <div>Shadows cloaked the narrow place</div> - <div>She sat adream in. Then she'd look</div> - <div>Idly upon an idle book;</div> - <div>Anon would rise and musing peer</div> - <div>Out at the misty street and drear;</div> - <div>Or with her loosened dark hair play,</div> - <div>Hiding her fingers' snow away;</div> - <div>And, singing softly, would sing on</div> - <div>When the desire of song had gone.</div> - <div>"O lingering day!" her bosom sighed,</div> - <div>"O laggard Time!" each motion cried.</div> - <div>Last she took the lamp and stood</div> - <div>Rich in its flood,</div> - <div>And looked and looked again at what</div> - <div>Her longing fingers' zeal had wrought;</div> - <div>And turning then did nothing say,</div> - <div>Hiding her thoughts away.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Freeman</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_46">46</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SICK CHILD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Child.</i><span class="i2">O Mother, lay your hand on my brow!</span></div> - <div class="i4h">O mother, mother, where am I now?</div> - <div class="i4h">Why is the room so gaunt and great?</div> - <div class="i4h">Why am I lying awake so late?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mother.</i><span class="i2">Fear not at all: the night is still.</span></div> - <div class="i4h">Nothing is here that means you ill—</div> - <div class="i4h">Nothing but lamps the whole town through,</div> - <div class="i4h">And never a child awake but you.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Child.</i><span class="i2">Mother, mother, speak low in my ear,</span></div> - <div class="i4h">Some of the things are so great and near,</div> - <div class="i4h">Some are so small and far away,</div> - <div class="i4h">I have a fear that I cannot say.</div> - <div class="i4h">What have I done, and what do I fear,</div> - <div class="i4h">And why are you crying, mother dear?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mother.</i><span class="i2">Out in the city, sounds begin.</span></div> - <div class="i4h">Thank the kind God, the carts come in!</div> - <div class="i4h">An hour or two more, and God is so kind,</div> - <div class="i4h">The day shall be blue in the window blind,</div> - <div class="i4h">Then shall my child go sweetly asleep,</div> - <div class="i4h">And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_47">47</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>STILLNESS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the words rustle no more,</div> - <div class="i1">And the last work's done,</div> - <div>When the bolt lies deep in the door,</div> - <div class="i1">And Fire, our Sun,</div> - <div>Falls on the dark-laned meadows of the floor;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When from the clock's last chime to the next chime</div> - <div class="i1">Silence beats his drum,</div> - <div>And Space with gaunt grey eyes and her brother Time</div> - <div class="i1">Wheeling and whispering come,</div> - <div>She with the mould of form and he with the loom of rhyme:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then twittering out in the night my thought-birds flee,</div> - <div class="i1">I am emptied of all my dreams:</div> - <div>I only hear Earth turning, only see</div> - <div class="i1">Ether's long bankless streams,</div> - <div>And only know I should drown if you laid not your hand on me.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">James Elroy Flecker</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_48">48</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LINES ON RECEIVING HIS MOTHER'S PICTURE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O that those lips had language! Life has passed</div> - <div>With me but roughly since I heard thee last.</div> - <div>Those lips are thine—thy own sweet smiles I see,</div> - <div>The same that oft in childhood solaced me;</div> - <div>Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,</div> - <div>"Grieve not, my child—chase all thy fears away!"...</div> - <div class="i1">My Mother! when I learnt that thou wast dead,</div> - <div>Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?</div> - <div>Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,</div> - <div>Wretch even then, life's journey just begun?</div> - <div>Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss,</div> - <div>Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss—</div> - <div>Ah, that maternal smile! it answers—Yes.</div> - <div>I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day,</div> - <div>I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,</div> - <div>And, turning from my nursery window, drew</div> - <div>A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu!</div> - <div>But was it such?—It was. Where thou art gone</div> - <div>Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.</div> - <div>May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,</div> - <div>The parting word shall pass my lips no more!</div> - <div>Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern,</div> - <div>Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.</div> - <div>What ardently I wished, I long believed,</div> - <div>And, disappointed still, was still deceived,</div> - <div>By expectation every day beguiled,</div> - <div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></div> - <div>Dupe of <i>to-morrow</i> even from a child.</div> - <div>Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went,</div> - <div>Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,</div> - <div>I learnt at last submission to my lot.</div> - <div>But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.</div> - <div class="i1">Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more,</div> - <div>Children not thine have trod my nursery floor;</div> - <div>And where the gardener Robin, day by day,</div> - <div>Drew me to school along the public way,</div> - <div>Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped</div> - <div>In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet-capped,</div> - <div>'Tis now become a history little known,</div> - <div>That once we called the pastoral house our own.</div> - <div>Short-lived possession! but the record fair</div> - <div>That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there,</div> - <div>Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced</div> - <div>A thousand other themes less deeply traced.</div> - <div>Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,</div> - <div>That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid;</div> - <div>Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,</div> - <div>The biscuit, or confectionery plum;</div> - <div>The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed</div> - <div>By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed;</div> - <div>All this, and more endearing still than all,</div> - <div>Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall....</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Cowper</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_49">49</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When my mother died I was very young,</div> - <div>And my father sold me while yet my tongue</div> - <div>Could scarcely cry "'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"</div> - <div>So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,</div> - <div>That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved: so I said</div> - <div>"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare</div> - <div>You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And so he was quiet, and that very night,</div> - <div>As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!</div> - <div>That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,</div> - <div>Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And by came an Angel who had a bright key,</div> - <div>And he opened the coffins and set them all free;</div> - <div>Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run,</div> - <div>And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,</div> - <div>They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;</div> - <div>And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,</div> - <div>He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,</div> - <div>And got with our bags and our brushes to work.</div> - <div>Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm;</div> - <div>So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_50"><a href="#note_50">50</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hie upon Hielands,</div> - <div class="i1">and laigh upon Tay,</div> - <div>Bonnie George Campbell</div> - <div class="i1">rode out on a day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Saddled and briddled</div> - <div class="i1">and booted rade he;</div> - <div>Toom<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> hame cam' the saddle,</div> - <div class="i1">but never cam' he.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Down cam' his auld mither,</div> - <div class="i1">greetin'<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> fu' sair,</div> - <div>And down cam' his bonny wife,</div> - <div class="i1">wringin' her hair:—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My meadow lies green,</div> - <div class="i1">and my corn is unshorn,</div> - <div>My barn is to build</div> - <div class="i1">and my babe is unborn."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Saddled and briddled</div> - <div class="i1">and booted rade he;</div> - <div>Toom hame cam' the saddle</div> - <div class="i1">but never cam' he.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_51"><a href="#note_51">51</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE ORPHAN'S SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I had a little bird,</div> - <div>I took it from the nest;</div> - <div>I prest it, and blest it,</div> - <div>And nurst it in my breast.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I set it on the ground,</div> - <div>I danced round and round,</div> - <div>And sang about it so cheerly,</div> - <div>With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird,</div> - <div>And ho but I love thee dearly!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I make a little feast</div> - <div>Of food soft and sweet,</div> - <div>I hold it in my breast,</div> - <div>And coax it to eat;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I pit, and I pat,</div> - <div>I call it this and that,</div> - <div>And sing about it so cheerly,</div> - <div>With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird,</div> - <div>And ho but I love thee dearly!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I may kiss, I may sing,</div> - <div>But I can't make it feed,</div> - <div>It taketh no heed</div> - <div>Of any pleasant thing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I scolded and I socked,</div> - <div>But it minded not a whit,</div> - <div>Its little mouth was locked,</div> - <div>And I could not open it.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tho' with pit, and with pat,</div> - <div>And with this, and with that,</div> - <div>I sang about it so cheerly,</div> - <div>With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird,</div> - <div>And ho but I love thee dearly!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But when the day was done,</div> - <div>And the room was at rest,</div> - <div>And I sat all alone</div> - <div>With my birdie in my breast,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the light had fled,</div> - <div>And not a sound was heard,</div> - <div>Then my little bird</div> - <div>Lifted up its head,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the little mouth</div> - <div>Loosed its sullen pride,</div> - <div>And it opened, it opened,</div> - <div>With a yearning strong and wide.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Swifter than I speak</div> - <div>I brought it food once more,</div> - <div>But the poor little beak</div> - <div>Was locked as before.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I sat down again,</div> - <div>And not a creature stirred;</div> - <div>I laid the little bird</div> - <div>Again where it had laid;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And again when nothing stirred,</div> - <div>And not a word I said,</div> - <div>Then my little bird</div> - <div>Lifted up its head,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the little beak</div> - <div>Loosed its stubborn pride,</div> - <div>And it opened, it opened,</div> - <div>With a yearning strong and wide.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It lay in my breast,</div> - <div>It uttered no cry,</div> - <div>'Twas famished,'twas famished,</div> - <div>And I couldn't tell why.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I couldn't tell why,</div> - <div>But I saw that it would die,</div> - <div>For all that I kept dancing round and round,</div> - <div>And singing about it so cheerly,</div> - <div>With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird,</div> - <div>And ho but I love thee dearly!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I never look sad,</div> - <div>I hear what people say,</div> - <div>I laugh when they are gay</div> - <div>And they think I am glad.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My tears never start,</div> - <div>I never say a word,</div> - <div>But I think that my heart</div> - <div>Is like that little bird.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Every day I read,</div> - <div>And I sing, and I play,</div> - <div>But thro' the long day</div> - <div>It taketh no heed.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It taketh no heed</div> - <div>Of any pleasant thing,</div> - <div>I know it doth not read,</div> - <div>I know it doth not sing.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With my mouth I read,</div> - <div>With my hands I play,</div> - <div>My shut heart is shut,</div> - <div>Coax it how you may.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>You may coax it how you may</div> - <div>While the day is broad and bright,</div> - <div>But in the dead night</div> - <div>When the guests are gone away,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And no more the music sweet</div> - <div>Up the house doth pass,</div> - <div>Nor the dancing feet</div> - <div>Shake the nursery glass;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And I've heard my aunt</div> - <div>Along the corridor,</div> - <div>And my uncle gaunt</div> - <div>Lock his chamber door;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And upon the stair</div> - <div>All is hushed and still,</div> - <div>And the last wheel</div> - <div>Is silent in the square;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the nurses snore,</div> - <div>And the dim sheets rise and fall,</div> - <div>And the lamplight's on the wall,</div> - <div>And the mouse is on the floor;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the curtains of my bed</div> - <div>Are like a heavy cloud,</div> - <div>And the clock ticks loud,</div> - <div>And sounds are in my head;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And little Lizzie sleeps</div> - <div>Softly at my side,</div> - <div>It opens, it opens,</div> - <div>With a yearning strong and wide!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It yearns in my breast,</div> - <div>It utters no cry,</div> - <div>'Tis famished, 'tis famished,</div> - <div>And I feel that I shall die,</div> - <div>I feel that I shall die,</div> - <div>And none will know why.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tho' the pleasant life is dancing round and round,</div> - <div>And singing about me so cheerly,</div> - <div>With "Hey my little bird, and ho my little bird,</div> - <div>And ho but I love thee dearly!"</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Sydney Dobell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_52">52</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FIRST GRIEF</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Oh! call my brother back to me,</div> - <div class="i1">I cannot play alone;</div> - <div>The summer comes with flower and bee—</div> - <div class="i1">Where is my brother gone?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The butterfly is glancing bright</div> - <div class="i1">Across the sunbeam's track;</div> - <div>I care not now to chase its flight—</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! call my brother back.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The flowers run wild—the flowers we sowed</div> - <div class="i1">Around our garden tree;</div> - <div>Our vine is drooping with its load—</div> - <div class="i1">Oh! call him back to me."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"He would not hear my voice, fair child!</div> - <div class="i1">He may not come to thee;</div> - <div>The face that once like spring-time smiled</div> - <div class="i1">On earth no more thou'lt see.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"A rose's brief, bright life of joy,</div> - <div class="i1">Such unto him was given;</div> - <div>Go—thou must play alone, my boy—</div> - <div class="i1">Thy brother is in heaven!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And has he left the birds and flowers,</div> - <div class="i1">And must I call in vain;</div> - <div>And through the long, long summer hours,</div> - <div class="i1">Will he not come again?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And by the brook, and in the glade,</div> - <div class="i1">Are all our wanderings o'er?</div> - <div>Oh! while my brother with me played,</div> - <div class="i1">Would I had loved him more!"</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Felicia Hemans</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_53"><a href="#note_53">53</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE POPLAR FIELD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The poplars are felled; farewell to the shade</div> - <div>And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;</div> - <div>The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,</div> - <div>Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view</div> - <div>Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew;</div> - <div>And now in the grass behold they are laid,</div> - <div>And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The blackbird has fled to another retreat</div> - <div>Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat,</div> - <div>And the scene where his melody charmed me before</div> - <div>Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My fugitive years are all hasting away,</div> - <div>And I must ere long lie as lowly as they</div> - <div>With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,</div> - <div>Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,</div> - <div>To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;</div> - <div>Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,</div> - <div>Have a being less durable even than he.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Cowper</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_54">54</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FAREWELL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Not soon shall I forget—a sheet</div> - <div>Of golden water, cold and sweet,</div> - <div>The young moon with her head in veils</div> - <div>Of silver, and the nightingales.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A wain of hay came up the lane—</div> - <div>O fields I shall not walk again,</div> - <div>And trees I shall not see, so still</div> - <div>Against a sky of daffodil!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fields where my happy heart had rest,</div> - <div>And where my heart was heaviest,</div> - <div>I shall remember them at peace</div> - <div>Drenched in moon-silver like a fleece.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The golden water sweet and cold,</div> - <div>The moon of silver and of gold,</div> - <div>The dew upon the gray grass-spears,</div> - <div>I shall remember them with tears.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Katharine Tynan</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_55">55</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"YE BANKS AND BRAES O' BONNIE DOON"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,</div> - <div class="i1">How can ye bloom sae fair?</div> - <div>How can ye chant, ye little birds,</div> - <div class="i1">And I sae fu' o' care?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird</div> - <div class="i1">That sings upon the bough;</div> - <div>Thou minds me o' the happy days</div> - <div class="i1">When my fause Luve was true.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird</div> - <div class="i1">That sings beside thy mate;</div> - <div>For sae I sat, and sae I sang,</div> - <div class="i1">And wist na o' my fate.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon</div> - <div class="i1">To see the woodbine twine,</div> - <div>And ilka<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> bird sang o' its love;</div> - <div class="i1">And sae did I o' mine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,</div> - <div class="i1">Frae aff its thorny tree;</div> - <div>And my fause luver staw<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> the rose,</div> - <div class="i1">But left the thorn wi' me.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Burns</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_56">56</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TO A RIVER IN THE SOUTH</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Call me no more, O gentle stream,</div> - <div>To wander through thy sunny dream,</div> - <div>No more to lean at twilight cool</div> - <div>Above thy weir and glimmering pool.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Surely I know thy hoary dawns,</div> - <div>The silver crisp on all thy lawns,</div> - <div>The softly swirling undersong</div> - <div>That rocks thy reeds the winter long.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Surely I know the joys that ring</div> - <div>Through the green deeps of leafy spring;</div> - <div>I know the elfin cups and domes</div> - <div>That are their small and secret homes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet is the light for ever lost</div> - <div>That daily once thy meadows crossed,</div> - <div>The voice no more by thee is heard</div> - <div>That matched the song of stream and bird.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Call me no more!—thy waters roll</div> - <div>Here, in the world that is my soul,</div> - <div>And here, though Earth be drowned in night,</div> - <div>Old love shall dwell with old delight.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Henry Newbolt</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_57">57</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE DESERTED HOUSE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There's no smoke in the chimney,</div> - <div class="i1">And the rain beats on the floor;</div> - <div>There's no glass in the window,</div> - <div class="i1">There's no wood in the door;</div> - <div>The heather grows behind the house,</div> - <div class="i1">And the sand lies before.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No hand hath trained the ivy,</div> - <div class="i1">The walls are gray and bare;</div> - <div>The boats upon the sea sail by,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor ever tarry there.</div> - <div>No beast of the field comes nigh,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor any bird of the air.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Mary Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_58">58</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AN OLD WOMAN OF THE ROADS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, to have a little house!</div> - <div class="i1">To own the hearth and stool and all!</div> - <div>The heaped-up sods upon the fire,</div> - <div class="i1">The pile of turf against the wall!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To have a clock with weights and chains</div> - <div class="i1">And pendulum swinging up and down!</div> - <div>A dresser filled with shining delph,</div> - <div class="i1">Speckled and white and blue and brown!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I could be busy all the day</div> - <div class="i1">Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,</div> - <div>And fixing on their shelf again</div> - <div class="i1">My white and blue and speckled store!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I could be quiet there at night</div> - <div class="i1">Beside the fire and by myself,</div> - <div>Sure of a bed, and loth to leave</div> - <div class="i1">The ticking clock and the shining delph!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark,</div> - <div class="i1">And roads where there's never a house or bush,</div> - <div>And tired I am of bog and road</div> - <div class="i1">And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And I am praying to God on high,</div> - <div class="i1">And I am praying Him night and day,</div> - <div>For a little house—a house of my own—</div> - <div class="i1">Out of the wind's and the rain's way.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Padraic Colum</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_59">59</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A DESERTED HOME</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here where the fields lie lonely and untended,</div> - <div class="i1">Once stood the old house grey among the trees,</div> - <div>Once to the hills rolled the waves of the cornland—</div> - <div class="i1">Long waves and golden, softer than the sea's.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Long, long ago has the ploughshare rusted,</div> - <div class="i1">Long has the barn stood roofless and forlorn;</div> - <div>But oh! far away are some who still remember</div> - <div class="i1">The songs of the young girls binding up the corn.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here where the windows shone across the darkness,</div> - <div class="i1">Here where the stars once watched above the fold,</div> - <div>Still watch the stars, but the sheepfold is empty;</div> - <div class="i1">Falls now the rain where the hearth glowed of old.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here where the leagues of melancholy lough-sedge</div> - <div class="i1">Moan in the wind round the grey forsaken shore,</div> - <div>Once waved the corn in the mid-month of autumn,</div> - <div class="i1">Once sped the dance when the corn was on the floor.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Sidney Royse Lysaght</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_60"><a href="#note_60">60</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UNDER THE WOODS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When these old woods were young</div> - <div>The thrushes' ancestors</div> - <div>As sweetly sung</div> - <div>In the old years.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was no garden here,</div> - <div>Apples nor mistletoe;</div> - <div>No children dear</div> - <div>Ran to and fro.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>New then was this thatched cot,</div> - <div>But the keeper was old,</div> - <div>And he had not</div> - <div>Much lead or gold.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Most silent beech and yew:</div> - <div>As he went round about</div> - <div>The woods to view</div> - <div>Seldom he shot.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But now that he is gone</div> - <div>Out of most memories,</div> - <div>Still lingers on,</div> - <div>A stoat of his,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But one, shrivelled and green,</div> - <div>And with no scent at all,</div> - <div>And barely seen</div> - <div>On this shed wall.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Edward Thomas</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_61"><a href="#note_61">61</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"BLOWS THE WIND TO-DAY"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying,</div> - <div class="i1">Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now,</div> - <div>Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying,</div> - <div class="i1">My heart remembers how!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,</div> - <div class="i1">Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor,</div> - <div>Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races,</div> - <div class="i1">And winds, austere and pure:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,</div> - <div class="i1">Hills of home! and to hear again the call;</div> - <div>Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,</div> - <div class="i1">And hear no more at all.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_62"><a href="#note_62">62</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE TWA BROTHERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There were twa brethren in the north,</div> - <div class="i1">They went<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> to the school thegither;</div> - <div>The one unto the other said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Will you try a warsle<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> afore?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They warsled up, they warsled down,</div> - <div class="i1">Till Sir John fell to the ground,</div> - <div>And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch,</div> - <div class="i1">Gied him a deadlie wound.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O brither dear, take me on your back,</div> - <div class="i1">Carry me to yon burn clear,</div> - <div>And wash the blood from off my wound,</div> - <div class="i1">And it will bleed nae mair."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He took him up upon his back,</div> - <div class="i1">Carried him to yon burn clear,</div> - <div>And washd the blood from off his wound,</div> - <div class="i1">And aye it bled the mair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O brither dear, take me on your back,</div> - <div class="i1">Carry me to yon kirk-yard,</div> - <div>And dig a grave baith wide and deep,</div> - <div class="i1">And lay my body there."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's taen him up upon his back,</div> - <div class="i1">Carried him to yon kirk-yard,</div> - <div>And dug a grave baith deep and wide,</div> - <div class="i1">And laid his body there.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But what will I say to my father dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Gin<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?"</div> - <div>"Oh say that he's to England gone,</div> - <div class="i1">To buy him a cask of wine."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And what will I say to my mother dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></div> - <div>"Oh say that he's to England gone,</div> - <div class="i1">To buy her a new silk gown."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And what will I say to my sister dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?"</div> - <div>"Oh say that he's to England gone,</div> - <div class="i1">To buy her a wedding ring."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But what will I say to her you lo'e dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?"</div> - <div>"Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,</div> - <div class="i1">And home shall never come."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_63">63</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE DEAD KNIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The cleanly rush of the mountain air,</div> - <div>And the mumbling, grumbling humble-bees,</div> - <div>Are the only things that wander there,</div> - <div>The pitiful bones are laid at ease,</div> - <div>The grass has grown in his tangled hair,</div> - <div>And a rambling bramble binds his knees.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To shrieve his soul from the pangs of hell,</div> - <div>The only requiem-bells that rang</div> - <div>Were the hare-bell and the heather-bell.</div> - <div>Hushed he is with the holy spell</div> - <div>In the gentle hymn the wind sang,</div> - <div>And he lies quiet, and sleeps well.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He is bleached and blanched with the summer sun;</div> - <div>The misty rain and the cold dew</div> - <div>Have altered him from the kingly one</div> - <div>(That his lady loved, and his men knew)</div> - <div>And dwindled him to a skeleton.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The vetches have twined about his bones,</div> - <div>The straggling ivy twists and creeps</div> - <div>In his eye-sockets; the nettle keeps</div> - <div>Vigil about him while he sleeps.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Over his body the wind moans</div> - <div>With a dreary tune throughout the day,</div> - <div>In a chorus wistful, eerie, thin</div> - <div>As the gull's cry—as the cry in the bay,</div> - <div>The mournful word the seas say</div> - <div>When tides are wandering out or in.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Masefield</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_64"><a href="#note_64">64</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SHEATH AND KNIFE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>One king's daughter said to anither,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>"We'll gae ride like sister and brither,"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"We'll ride doun into yonder valley,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>Whare the greene green trees are budding sae gaily.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Wi hawke and hounde we will hunt sae rarely,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>And we'll come back in the morning early."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They rade on like sister and brither,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>And they hunted and hawket in the valley thegether.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Now, lady, hauld my horse and my hawk,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>For I maun na<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> ride, and I daur na<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> walk,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But set me doun be the rute o' this tree,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>For there ha'e I dreamt that my bed sall be."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The ae king's daughter did lift doun the ither,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>She was licht in her armis like ony fether.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bonnie Lady Ann sat doun be the tree,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>And a wide grave was houkit<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> whare nane suld be.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The hawk had nae lure, and the horse had nae master,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>And the faithless hounds thro' the woods ran faster.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The one king's daughter has ridden awa',</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair</i>,</div> - <div>But bonnie Lady Ann lay in the deed-thraw.<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_65">65</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>I HAVE A YOUNG SISTER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have a yong suster</div> - <div class="i1">fer beyondyn the se;</div> - <div>Many be the drowryis</div> - <div class="i1">that che sente me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Che sente me the cherye,</div> - <div class="i1">withoutyn ony ston,</div> - <div>And so che dede (the) dowe,</div> - <div class="i1">withoutyn ony bon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sche sente me the brere,</div> - <div class="i1">withoutyn ony rynde,</div> - <div>Sche bad me love my lem-man</div> - <div class="i1">withoute longgyng.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How shuld ony cherye</div> - <div class="i1">be withoute ston?</div> - <div>And how shuld ony dowe</div> - <div class="i1">ben withoute bon?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How shuld any brere</div> - <div class="i1">ben withoute rynde?</div> - <div>How shuld I love my lemman</div> - <div class="i1">without longyng?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Quan the cherye was a flour,</div> - <div class="i1">than hadde it non ston;</div> - <div>Quan the dowe was an ey,</div> - <div class="i1">than hadde it non bon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Quan the brere was onbred,</div> - <div class="i1">than hadde it non rynd;</div> - <div>Quan the mayden hayt that che lovit,</div> - <div class="i1">che is without longing.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have a young sister</div> - <div class="i1">Far beyond the sea;</div> - <div>Many are the keepsakes</div> - <div class="i1">That she's sent me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She sent me a cherry—</div> - <div class="i1">It hadn't any stone;</div> - <div>And so she did a wood dove</div> - <div class="i1">Withouten any bone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She sent me a briar</div> - <div class="i1">Withouten any rind;</div> - <div>She bade me love my sweetheart</div> - <div class="i1">Without longing in my mind.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How should any cherry</div> - <div class="i1">Be without a stone?</div> - <div>And how should any wood dove</div> - <div class="i1">Be without a bone?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How should any briar,</div> - <div class="i1">Be without rind?</div> - <div>And how love a sweetheart</div> - <div class="i1">Without longing in my mind?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the cherry was a flower</div> - <div class="i1">Then it had no stone;</div> - <div>When the wood-dove was an egg</div> - <div class="i1">Then it had no bone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the briar was unbred</div> - <div class="i1">Then it had no rind;</div> - <div>And when a maid hath that she loves,</div> - <div class="i1">She longs not in her mind.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_66"><a href="#note_66">66</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ANNABEL LEE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It was many and many a year ago,</div> - <div class="i1">In a kingdom by the sea,</div> - <div>That a maiden there lived whom you may know</div> - <div class="i1">By the name of Annabel Lee;</div> - <div>And this maiden she lived with no other thought</div> - <div class="i1">Than to love and be loved by me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I was a child and she was a child,</div> - <div class="i1">In this kingdom by the sea;</div> - <div>But we loved with a love that was more than love—</div> - <div class="i1">I and my Annabel Lee;</div> - <div>With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven</div> - <div class="i1">Coveted her and me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And this was the reason that, long ago,</div> - <div class="i1">In this kingdom by the sea,</div> - <div>A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling</div> - <div class="i1">My beautiful Annabel Lee;</div> - <div>So that her highborn kinsman came</div> - <div class="i1">And bore her away from me,</div> - <div>To shut her up in a sepulchre</div> - <div class="i1">In this kingdom by the sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The angels, not half so happy in heaven,</div> - <div class="i1">Went envying her and me—</div> - <div>Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,</div> - <div class="i1">In this kingdom by the sea)</div> - <div>That the wind came out of the cloud by night,</div> - <div class="i1">Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But our love it was stronger by far than the love</div> - <div class="i1">Of those who were older than we,</div> - <div class="i1">Of many far wiser than we;</div> - <div>And neither the angels in heaven above</div> - <div class="i1">Nor the demons down under the sea</div> - <div>Can ever dissever my soul from the soul</div> - <div class="i1">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams</div> - <div class="i1">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;</div> - <div>And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes</div> - <div class="i1">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;</div> - <div>And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side</div> - <div>Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,</div> - <div class="i1">In the sepulchre there by the sea,</div> - <div>In her tomb by the sounding sea.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Edgar Allan Poe</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_67">67</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SHELL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And then I pressed the shell</div> - <div class="i1">Close to my ear</div> - <div>And listened well,</div> - <div>And straightway like a bell</div> - <div class="i1">Came low and clear</div> - <div>The slow, sad murmur of far distant seas,</div> - <div>Whipped by an icy breeze</div> - <div class="i1">Upon a shore</div> - <div>Wind-swept and desolate.</div> - <div class="i1">It was a sunless strand that never bore</div> - <div>The footprint of a man,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor felt the weight</div> - <div>Since time began</div> - <div>Of any human quality or stir</div> - <div>Save what the dreary winds and waves incur.</div> - <div>And in the hush of waters was the sound</div> - <div>Of pebbles rolling round,</div> - <div>For ever rolling with a hollow sound.</div> - <div>And bubbling sea-weeds as the waters go</div> - <div>Swish to and fro</div> - <div>Their long, cold tentacles of slimy grey.</div> - <div>There was no day,</div> - <div>Nor ever came a night</div> - <div>Setting the stars alight</div> - <div>To wonder at the moon:</div> - <div>Was twilight only and the frightened croon,</div> - <div>Smitten to whimpers, of the dreary wind</div> - <div>And waves that journeyed blind—</div> - <div>And then I loosed my ear—oh, it was sweet</div> - <div>To hear a cart go jolting down the street!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">James Stephens</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_063" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_063.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>FEASTS : FAIRS :<br /> - -BEGGARS : GIPSIES :</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_68"><a href="#note_68">68</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LONDON BRIDGE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>London Bridge is broken down,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Dance o'er my Lady Lee</i>,</div> - <div>London Bridge is broken down,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a gay lady</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How shall we build it up again?</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Dance o'er my Lady Lee</i>,</div> - <div>How shall we build it up again?</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a gay lady</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Silver and gold will be stole away,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Dance o'er my Lady Lee</i>,</div> - <div>Silver and gold will be stole away,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a gay lady</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Build it up with iron and steel,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Dance o'er my Lady Lee</i>,</div> - <div>Build it up with iron and steel,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a gay lady</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Iron and steel will bend and bow,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Dance o'er my Lady Lee</i>,</div> - <div>Iron and steel will bend and bow,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a gay lady</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Build it up with wood and clay,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Dance o'er my Lady Lee</i>,</div> - <div>Build it up with wood and clay,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a gay lady</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wood and clay will wash away,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Dance o'er my Lady Lee</i>,</div> - <div>Wood and clay will wash away,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a gay lady</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Build it up with stone so strong,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Dance o'er my Lady Lee</i>,</div> - <div>Huzza! 'twill last for ages long,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a gay lady</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_69">69</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HOLY THURSDAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Came children walking two and two, in red and blue and green,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames' waters flow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!</div> - <div>Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own.</div> - <div>The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,</div> - <div>Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Now, like a mighty wind they raise to Heaven the voice of song,</div> - <div>Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among.</div> - <div>Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor;</div> - <div>Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_70"><a href="#note_70">70</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MAYORS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This city and this country has brought forth many mayors</div> - <div>To sit in state, and give forth laws out of their old oak chairs,</div> - <div>With face as brown as any nut with drinking of strong ale—</div> - <div>Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">With scarlet gowns and broad gold lace, would make a yeoman sweat;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">With stockings rolled above their knees and shoes as black as jet;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">With eating beef and drinking beer, O they were stout and hale—</div> - <div>Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thus sitting at the table wide the Mayor and Aldermen</div> - <div>Were fit to give law to the city; each ate as much as ten:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The hungry poor entered the hall to eat good beef and ale—</div> - <div>Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_71"><a href="#note_71">71</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FINE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'll sing you a good old song,</div> - <div class="i1">Made by a good old pate,</div> - <div>Of a fine old English gentleman</div> - <div class="i1">Who had an old estate,</div> - <div>And who kept up his old mansion</div> - <div class="i1">At a bountiful old rate;</div> - <div>With a good old porter to relieve</div> - <div class="i1">The old poor at his gate,</div> - <div>Like a fine old English gentleman</div> - <div class="i1">All of the olden time.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His hall so old was hung around</div> - <div class="i1">With pikes and guns and bows,</div> - <div>And swords, and good old bucklers,</div> - <div class="i1">That had stood some tough old blows;</div> - <div>'Twas there <i>his worship</i> held his state</div> - <div class="i1">In doublet and trunk hose,</div> - <div>And quaffed his cup of good old sack,</div> - <div class="i1">To warm his good old nose,</div> - <div>Like a fine old English gentleman</div> - <div class="i1">All of the olden time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When winter's cold brought frost and snow,</div> - <div class="i1">He opened house to all;</div> - <div>And though threescore and ten his years,</div> - <div class="i1">He featly led the ball;</div> - <div>Nor was the houseless wanderer</div> - <div class="i1">E'er driven from his hall;</div> - <div>For while he feasted all the great,</div> - <div class="i1">He ne'er forgot the small;</div> - <div>Like a fine old English gentleman</div> - <div class="i1">All of the olden time.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But time, though old, is strong in flight,</div> - <div class="i1">And years rolled swiftly by;</div> - <div>And Autumn's falling leaves proclaimed</div> - <div class="i1">This good old man must die!</div> - <div>He laid him down right tranquilly,</div> - <div class="i1">Gave up life's latest sigh;</div> - <div>And mournful stillness reigned around,</div> - <div class="i1">And tears bedewed each eye,</div> - <div>For this fine old English gentleman</div> - <div class="i1">All of the olden time.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now surely this is better far</div> - <div class="i1">Than all the new parade</div> - <div>Of theatres and fancy balls,</div> - <div class="i1">"At home" and masquerade:</div> - <div>And much more economical,</div> - <div class="i1">For all his bills were paid.</div> - <div>Then leave your new vagaries quite,</div> - <div class="i1">And take up the old trade</div> - <div>Of a fine old English gentleman,</div> - <div class="i1">All of the olden time.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_72"><a href="#note_72">72</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BRING US IN GOOD ALE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2"><i>Bring us in good ale, and bring us in good ale;</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>For y sour blessed Ladake bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring us in no browne bred, for that is made of brane,<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></div> - <div>Nor bring us in no white bred, for therein is no gane,</div> - <div class="i6"><i>But bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring us in no befe, for there is many bones,</div> - <div>But bring us in good ale, for that goth downe at ones,</div> - <div class="i6"><i>And bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring us in no bacon, for that is passing fat,</div> - <div>But bring us in good ale, and gife us enought of that;</div> - <div class="i6"><i>And bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring us in no mutton, for that is often lene,</div> - <div>Nor bring us in no tripes, for they be seldom clene,</div> - <div class="i6"><i>But bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring us in no egges, for there are many schelles,</div> - <div>But bring us in good ale, and gife us nothing elles;</div> - <div class="i6"><i>And bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring us in no butter, for therein are many hores,<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></div> - <div>Nor bring us in no pigges flesch, for that will make us bores,</div> - <div class="i6"><i>But bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring us in no podinges, for therein is all Godes good,<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></div> - <div>Nor bring us in no venesen, for that is not for our blod;</div> - <div class="i6"><i>But bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring us in no capons flesch, for that is oftė dere,</div> - <div>Nor bring us in no dokes<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> flesch, for they slober in the mere,</div> - <div class="i6"><i>But bring us in good ale!</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_73"><a href="#note_73">73</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE VISION OF MAC CONGLINNE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A vision that appeared to me,</div> - <div>An apparition wonderful</div> - <div class="i3">I tell to all:</div> - <div>There was a coracle all of lard</div> - <div>Within a Port of New-Milk Lake</div> - <div class="i3">Upon the world's smooth sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We went into that man-of-war,</div> - <div>'Twas warrior-like to take the road</div> - <div class="i3">O'er ocean's heaving waves.</div> - <div>Our oar-strokes then we pulled</div> - <div>Across the level of the main,</div> - <div>Throwing the sea's harvest up</div> - <div class="i3">Like honey, the sea-soil.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The fort we reached was beautiful,</div> - <div>With works of custards thick,</div> - <div class="i3">Beyond the lake.</div> - <div>Fresh butter was the bridge in front,</div> - <div>The rubble dyke was fair white wheat,</div> - <div class="i3">Bacon the palisade.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Stately, pleasantly it sat,</div> - <div>A compact house and strong.</div> - <div class="i3">Then I went in:</div> - <div>The door of it was hung beef,</div> - <div>The threshold was dry bread,</div> - <div class="i3">Cheese-curds the walls....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Behind it was a well of wine,</div> - <div>Beer and bragget in streams,</div> - <div class="i3">Each full pool to the taste.</div> - <div>Malt in smooth wavy sea</div> - <div>Over a lard-spring's brink</div> - <div class="i3">Flowed through the floor....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A row of fragrant apple-trees,</div> - <div>An orchard in its pink-tipped bloom,</div> - <div class="i3">Between it and the hill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></div> - <div>A forest tall of real leeks,</div> - <div>Of onions and of carrots, stood</div> - <div class="i3">Behind the house.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Within, a household generous,</div> - <div>A welcome of red, firm-fed men,</div> - <div class="i3">Around the fire:</div> - <div>Seven bead-strings and necklets seven</div> - <div>Of cheeses and of bits of tripe</div> - <div class="i3">Round each man's neck.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Chief in cloak of beefy fat</div> - <div>Beside his noble wife and fair</div> - <div class="i3">I then beheld.</div> - <div>Below the lofty cauldron's spit</div> - <div>Then the Dispenser I beheld,</div> - <div class="i3">His fleshfork on his back.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_74"><a href="#note_74">74</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>STOOL-BALL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Now milkmaids' pails are deckt with flowers,</div> - <div>And men begin to drink in bowers,</div> - <div>The mackarels come up in shoals,</div> - <div>To fill the mouths of hungry souls;</div> - <div>Sweet sillabubs, and lip-loved tansey,</div> - <div>For William is prepared by Nancy.</div> - <div>Much time is wasted now away,</div> - <div>At pigeon-holes, and nine-pin play,</div> - <div>Whilst hob-nail Dick, and simp'ring Frances,</div> - <div>Trip it away in country dances;</div> - <div>At stool-ball and at barley-break,</div> - <div>Wherewith they harmless pastime make....</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_75"><a href="#note_75">75</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MILKING PAILS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Mary's gone a-milking,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Mary's gone a-milking,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Take your pails and go after her,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Take your pails and go after her,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Buy me a pair of new milking pails,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Buy me a pair of new milking pails,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where's the money to come from,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Where's the money to come from,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sell my father's feather bed,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Sell my father's feather bed,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What's your father to sleep on,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>What's your father to sleep on,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Put him in the truckle bed,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Put him in the truckle bed,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What are the children to sleep on,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>What are the children to sleep on,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Put them in the pig-sty,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Put them in the pig-sty,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What are the pigs to lie in,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></div> - <div>What are the pigs to lie in,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Put them in the washing-tubs,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Put them in the washing-tubs,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What am I to wash in,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>What am I to wash in,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wash in the thimble,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Wash in the thimble,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thimble won't hold your father's shirt,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Thimble won't hold your father's shirt,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wash in the river,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Wash in the river,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Suppose the clothes should blow away,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Suppose the clothes should blow away,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Set a man to watch them,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Set a man to watch them,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Suppose the man should go to sleep,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Suppose the man should go to sleep,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Take a boat and go after them,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Take a boat and go after them,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Suppose the boat should be upset,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Suppose the boat should be upset,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet daughter o' mine</i>?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then that would be an end of you,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>A rea, a ria, a roses</i>,</div> - <div>Then that would be an end of you,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Gentle sweet mother o' mine</i>!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_76"><a href="#note_76">76</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE PEDLAR'S SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lawne as white as driven Snow,</div> - <div>Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow,</div> - <div>Cloves as sweete as Damaske Roses,</div> - <div>Maskes for faces, and for noses,</div> - <div>Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,</div> - <div>Perfume for a Ladies Chamber:</div> - <div>Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers</div> - <div>For my Lads, to give their deers:</div> - <div>Pins, and peaking-stickes of steele:</div> - <div>What Maids lacke from head to heele:</div> - <div class="i1">Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy,</div> - <div class="i1">Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_77">77</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FINE KNACKS FOR LADIES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fine knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new,</div> - <div class="i1">Good pennyworths—but money cannot move:</div> - <div>I keep a fair but for the Fair to view—</div> - <div class="i1">A beggar may be liberal of love.</div> - <div>Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true,</div> - <div class="i12"><i>The heart is true</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again;</div> - <div class="i1">My trifles come as treasures from my mind:</div> - <div>It is a priceless jewel to be plain;</div> - <div class="i1">Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find:—</div> - <div>Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain!</div> - <div class="i12"><i>Of me a grain!...</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_78"><a href="#note_78">78</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OH! DEAR!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Dear! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Oh! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Johnny's so long at the fair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He promised he'd buy me a fairing should please me,</div> - <div>And then for a kiss, oh! he vowed he would tease me,</div> - <div>He promised he'd bring me a bunch of blue ribbons</div> - <div>To tie up my bonny brown hair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And it's oh! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Dear! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Oh! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Johnny's so long at the fair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He promised he'd bring me a basket of posies,</div> - <div>A garland of lilies, a garland of roses,</div> - <div>A little straw hat, to set off the blue ribbons</div> - <div>That tie up my bonny brown hair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And it's oh! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Dear! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Oh! dear! what can the matter be?</div> - <div>Johnny's so long at the fair.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_79">79</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SLEDBURN FAIR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'd oft heard tell of this Sledburn fair,</div> - <div class="i1">And fain I would gan thither,</div> - <div>'Twere in the prime of summer-time,</div> - <div class="i1">In fine and pleasant weather;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></div> - <div>My Dad and Mam they did agree</div> - <div class="i1">That Nell and I should gae</div> - <div>See for to view this Sledburn fair,</div> - <div class="i1">And ride on Dobbin, oh....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So Nell gat on and I gat on,</div> - <div class="i1">And we both rode off together,</div> - <div>And of everybody we did meet</div> - <div class="i1">Enquired how far 'twas thither?</div> - <div>Until we came to t'other field end,</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas about steeple high,</div> - <div>"See yonder, Nell, see yonder, Nell,</div> - <div class="i1">There's Sledburn town," cried I.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And when we reached this famous town</div> - <div class="i1">We enquirèd for an alehouse,</div> - <div>We lookèd up and saw a sign</div> - <div class="i1">As high as any gallows;</div> - <div>We called for Harry, the ostler,</div> - <div class="i1">To give our horse some hay,</div> - <div>For we had come to Sledburn Fair</div> - <div class="i1">And meant to stop all day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The landlord then himself came out</div> - <div class="i1">And led us up an entry;</div> - <div>He took us in the finest room</div> - <div class="i1">As if we'd been quite gentry.</div> - <div>And puddings and sauce they did so smell,</div> - <div class="i1">Pies and roast beef so rare,</div> - <div>"Oh, Zooks!" says Nell, "we've acted well</div> - <div class="i1">In coming to Sledburn Fair."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_80"><a href="#note_80">80</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WIDDECOMBE FAIR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Tom Pearse, Tom Pearse, lend me your gray mare,"</div> - <div class="i1">All along, down along, out along, lee.</div> - <div>"For I want for to go to Widdecombe Fair,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</div> - <div class="i3">Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all."</div> - <div class="i5"><i>Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And when shall I see again my gray mare?"</div> - <div class="i1">All along, down along, out along, lee.</div> - <div>"By Friday soon, or Saturday noon,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</div> - <div class="i3">Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,</div> - <div class="i1">Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all."</div> - <div class="i5"><i>Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then Friday came and Saturday noon,</div> - <div class="i1">All along, down along, out along, lee.</div> - <div>But Tom Pearse's old mare hath not trotted home,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</div> - <div class="i3">Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,</div> - <div class="i1">Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</div> - <div class="i5"><i>Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So Tom Pearse he got up to the top o' the hill,</div> - <div class="i1">All along, down along, out along, lee.</div> - <div>And he seed his old mare down a-making her will,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</div> - <div class="i3">Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,</div> - <div class="i1">Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</div> - <div class="i5"><i>Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So Tom Pearse's old mare her took sick and her died,</div> - <div class="i1">All along, down along, out along, lee.</div> - <div>And Tom he sat down on a stone, and he cried</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</div> - <div class="i3">Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,</div> - <div class="i1">Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</div> - <div class="i5"><i>Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But this isn't the end o' this shocking affair,</div> - <div class="i1">All along, down along, out along, lee.</div> - <div>Nor, though they be dead, of the horrid career</div> - <div class="i1">Of Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</div> - <div class="i3">Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</div> - <div class="i5"><i>Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the wind whistles cold on the moor of a night,</div> - <div class="i1">All along, down along, out along, lee.</div> - <div>Tom Pearse's old mare doth appear, gashly white,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</div> - <div class="i3">Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,</div> - <div class="i1">Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</div> - <div class="i5"><i>Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And all the long night be heard skirling and groans,</div> - <div class="i1">All along, down along, out along, lee.</div> - <div>From Tom Pearse's old mare in her rattling bones,</div> - <div class="i1">And from Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</div> - <div class="i3">Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,</div> - <div class="i1">Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</div> - <div class="i5"><i>Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_81">81</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GIPSIES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The snow falls deep; the forest lies alone;</div> - <div>The boy goes hasty for his load of brakes,<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></div> - <div>Then thinks upon the fire and hurries back;</div> - <div>The gipsy knocks his hands and tucks them up,</div> - <div>And seeks his squalid camp, half hid in snow,</div> - <div>Beneath the oak which breaks away the wind,</div> - <div>And bushes close in snow-like hovel warm;</div> - <div>There tainted mutton wastes upon the coals,</div> - <div>And the half-wasted dog squats close and rubs,</div> - <div>Then feels the heat too strong, and goes aloof;</div> - <div>He watches well, but none a bit can spare,</div> - <div>And vainly waits the morsel thrown away.</div> - <div>Tis thus they live—a picture to the place,</div> - <div>A quiet, pilfering, unprotected race.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">John Clare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_82">82</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE IDLERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The gipsies lit their fires by the chalk-pit gate anew,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the hoppled horses supped in the further dusk and dew;</div> - <div>The gnats flocked round the smoke like idlers as they were</div> - <div>And through the goss and bushes the owls began to churr.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>An ell above the woods the last of sunset glowed</div> - <div>With a dusky gold that filled the pond beside the road;</div> - <div>The cricketers had done, the leas all silent lay,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the carrier's clattering wheels went past and died away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">The gipsies lolled and gossiped, and ate their stolen swedes,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Made merry with mouth-organs, worked toys with piths of reeds:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The old wives puffed their pipes, nigh as black as their hair,</div> - <div>And not one of them all seemed to know the name of care.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Edmund Blunden</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_83"><a href="#note_83">83</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WRAGGLE TAGGLE GIPSIES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There were three gipsies a-come to my door,</div> - <div>And down-stairs ran this a-lady, O!</div> - <div>One sang high, and another sang low,</div> - <div>And the other sang, Bonny, bonny Biscay, O!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then she pulled off her silk-finished gown</div> - <div>And put on hose of leather, O!</div> - <div>The ragged, ragged rags about our door—</div> - <div>She's gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It was late last night, when my lord came home,</div> - <div>Enquiring for his a-lady, O!</div> - <div>The servants said, on every hand:</div> - <div>"She's gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O saddle to me my milk-white steed.</div> - <div>Go and fetch me my pony, O!</div> - <div>That I may ride and seek my bride,</div> - <div>Who is gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O he rode high and he rode low,</div> - <div>He rode through woods and copses too,</div> - <div>Until he came to an open field,</div> - <div>And there he espied his a-lady, O!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"What makes you leave your house and land?</div> - <div>What makes you leave your money, O?</div> - <div>What makes you leave your new-wedded lord;</div> - <div>To go with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"What care I for my house and my land?</div> - <div>What care I for my money, O?</div> - <div>What care I for my new-wedded lord?</div> - <div>I'm off with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed,</div> - <div>With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!</div> - <div>And to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field,</div> - <div>Along with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"What care I for a goose-feather bed,</div> - <div>With the sheet turned down so bravely, O?</div> - <div>For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field,</div> - <div>Along with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O!"</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_84"><a href="#note_84">84</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHERE DO THE GIPSIES COME FROM?</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where do the gipsies come from?</div> - <div>The gipsies come from Egypt.</div> - <div>The fiery sun begot them,</div> - <div class="i1">Their dam was the desert dry.</div> - <div>She lay there stripped and basking,</div> - <div>And gave them suck for the asking,</div> - <div>And an Emperor's bone to play with,</div> - <div class="i1">Whenever she heard them cry.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What did the gipsies do there?</div> - <div>They built a tomb for Pharaoh,</div> - <div>They built a tomb for Pharaoh,</div> - <div class="i1">So tall it touched the sky.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></div> - <div>They buried him deep inside it,</div> - <div>Then let what would betide it,</div> - <div>They saddled their lean-ribbed ponies</div> - <div class="i1">And left him there to die.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What do the gipsies do now?</div> - <div>They follow the Sun, their father,</div> - <div>They follow the Sun, their father,</div> - <div class="i1">They know not whither nor why.</div> - <div>Whatever they find they take it,</div> - <div>And if it's a law they break it.</div> - <div>So never you talk to a gipsy,</div> - <div class="i1">Or look in a gipsy's eye.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">H. H. Bashford</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_85">85</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BEGGARS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What noise of viols is so sweet</div> - <div class="i1">As when our merry clappers ring?</div> - <div>What mirth doth want when beggars meet?</div> - <div class="i1">A beggar's life is for a king.</div> - <div>Eat, drink, and play, sleep when we list,</div> - <div>Go where we will—so stocks be missed.</div> - <div class="i1">Bright shines the sun; play, beggars, play!</div> - <div class="i1">Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The world is ours, and ours alone;</div> - <div class="i1">For we alone have world at will.</div> - <div>We purchase not—all is our own;</div> - <div class="i1">Both fields and street we beggars fill.</div> - <div class="i1">Bright shines the sun; play, beggars, play!</div> - <div class="i1">Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Frank Davidson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_86"><a href="#note_86">86</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"WEEP, WEEP, YE WOODMEN!"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Weep, weep, ye woodmen! wail;</div> - <div class="i1">Your hands with sorrow wring!</div> - <div>Your master Robin Hood lies dead,</div> - <div class="i1">Therefore sigh as you sing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here lie his primer and his beads,</div> - <div class="i1">His bent bow and his arrows keen,</div> - <div>His good sword and his holy cross:</div> - <div class="i1">Now cast on flowers fresh and green.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And, as they fall, shed tears and say</div> - <div class="i1">Well, well-a-day! well, well-a-day!</div> - <div>Thus cast ye flowers fresh, and sing,</div> - <div class="i1">And on to Wakefield take your way.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Anthony Munday</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_87"><a href="#note_87">87</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MY HANDSOME GILDEROY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Gilderoy was a bonnie boy,</div> - <div class="i1">Had roses tull<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> his shoone,</div> - <div>His stockings were of silken soy,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' garters hanging doune:</div> - <div>It was, I weene, a comelie sight,</div> - <div class="i1">To see sae trim a boy;</div> - <div>He was my joy and heart's delight,</div> - <div class="i1">My handsome Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh! sike twe<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> charming een he had,</div> - <div class="i1">A breath as sweet as rose;</div> - <div>He never ware a Highland plaid,</div> - <div class="i1">But costly silken clothes.</div> - <div>He gained the luve of ladies gay,</div> - <div class="i1">Nane eir tull him was coy,</div> - <div>Ah! wae is mee! I mourn the day,</div> - <div class="i1">For my dear Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My Gilderoy and I were born</div> - <div class="i1">Baith in one toun together;</div> - <div>We scant<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> were seven years beforn</div> - <div class="i1">We gan to luve each other;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></div> - <div>Our daddies and our mammies thay</div> - <div class="i1">Were fill'd wi' mickle joy,</div> - <div>To think upon the bridal day</div> - <div class="i1">'Twixt me and Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For Gilderoy, that luve of mine,</div> - <div class="i1">Gude faith! I freely bought</div> - <div>A wedding sark of Holland fine</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' silken flowers wrought:</div> - <div>And he gied me a wedding ring,</div> - <div class="i1">Which I received with joy,</div> - <div>Nae lad nor lassie eir could sing</div> - <div class="i1">Like me and Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wi' mickle joy we spent our prime,</div> - <div class="i1">Till we were baith sixteen,</div> - <div>And aft we past the langsome time</div> - <div class="i1">Among the leaves sae green:</div> - <div>Aft on the banks we'd sit us thair,</div> - <div class="i1">And sweetly kiss and toy;</div> - <div>Wi' garlands gay wad deck my hair</div> - <div class="i1">My handsome Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh! that he still had been content</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' me to lead his life;</div> - <div>But, ah! his manfu' heart was bent</div> - <div class="i1">To stir in feats of strife.</div> - <div>And he in many a venturous deed</div> - <div class="i1">His courage bauld wad try;</div> - <div>And now this gars<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> mine heart to bleed</div> - <div class="i1">For my dear Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And when of me his leave he tuik,</div> - <div class="i1">The tears they wet mine ee;</div> - <div>I gave tull him a parting luik,</div> - <div class="i1">"My benison gang wi' thee!</div> - <div>God speed thee weil, mine ain dear heart,</div> - <div class="i1">For gane is all my joy;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></div> - <div>My heart is rent, sith we maun part,</div> - <div class="i1">My handsome Gilderoy!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My Gilderoy, baith far and near,</div> - <div class="i1">Was feared in ev'ry toun,</div> - <div>And bauldly bare away the gear</div> - <div class="i1">Of many a lawland loun:</div> - <div>Nane eir durst meet him man to man,</div> - <div class="i1">He was sae brave a boy;</div> - <div>At length wi' numbers he was tane,</div> - <div class="i1">My winsome Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wae worth the loun that made the laws,</div> - <div class="i1">To hang a man for gear,</div> - <div>To 'reave of life for ox or ass,</div> - <div class="i1">For sheep, or horse, or mare:</div> - <div>Had not their laws been made sae strick,</div> - <div class="i1">I neir had lost my joy;</div> - <div>Wi' sorrow neir had wat my cheek</div> - <div class="i1">For my dear Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Giff<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> Gilderoy had done amisse,</div> - <div class="i1">He mought hae banisht been,</div> - <div>Ah, what fair cruelty is this,</div> - <div class="i1">To hang sike handsome men!</div> - <div>To hang the flower o' Scottish land,</div> - <div class="i1">Sae sweet and fair a boy;</div> - <div>Nae lady had so white a hand</div> - <div class="i1">As thee, my Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Of Gilderoy sae fraid they were,</div> - <div class="i1">They bound him mickle strong,</div> - <div>Tull Edenburrow they led him thair,</div> - <div class="i1">And on a gallows hung:</div> - <div>They hung him high aboon the rest,</div> - <div class="i1">He was so trim a boy:</div> - <div>Thair dyed the youth whom I lued best,</div> - <div class="i1">My handsome Gilderoy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thus having yielded up his breath,</div> - <div class="i1">I bare his corpse away;</div> - <div>Wi' tears, that trickled for his death,</div> - <div class="i1">I washt his comely clay;</div> - <div>And siker<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> in a grave sae deep</div> - <div class="i1">I laid the dear-lued boy,</div> - <div>And now for evir maun I weep</div> - <div class="i1">My winsome Gilderoy.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_087" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_087.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>BEASTS OF THE FIELD FOWLS OF THE AIR.</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_88"><a href="#note_88">88</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BINGO</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The miller's mill-dog lay at the mill-door,</div> - <div>And his name was Little Bingo.</div> - <div>B with an I, I with an N, N with a G, G with an O,</div> - <div>And his name was Little Bingo.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The miller he bought a cask of ale,</div> - <div>And he called it right good Stingo.</div> - <div>S with a T, T with an I, I with an N, N with a G, G with an O,</div> - <div>And he called it right good Stingo.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The miller he went to town one day,</div> - <div>And he bought a wedding Ring-o!</div> - <div>R with an I, I with an N, N with a G, G with an O,</div> - <div>And he bought a wedding Ring-o!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_89">89</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE IRISH HARPER AND HIS DOG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh,</div> - <div>No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;</div> - <div>No harp like my own could so cheerily play,</div> - <div>And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When at last I was forced from my Sheelah to part,</div> - <div>She said—while the sorrow was big at her heart—</div> - <div>"Oh! remember your Sheelah, when far, far away,</div> - <div>And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Poor dog! he was faithful and kind, to be sure,</div> - <div>And he constantly loved me, although I was poor;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></div> - <div>When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away,</div> - <div>I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold,</div> - <div>And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old,</div> - <div>How snugly we slept in my old coat of grey,</div> - <div>And he licked me for kindness—my poor dog Tray.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though my wallet was scant, I remembered his case,</div> - <div>Nor refused my last crust to his pitiful face;</div> - <div>But he died at my feet on a cold winter day,</div> - <div>And I played a lament for my poor dog Tray.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where now shall I go, poor, forsaken, and blind?</div> - <div>Can I find one to guide me, so faithful and kind?</div> - <div>To my sweet native village, so far, far away,</div> - <div>I can never return with my poor dog Tray.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Thomas Campbell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_90"><a href="#note_90">90</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>POOR OLD HORSE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My clothing was once of the linsey woolsey fine,</div> - <div>My tail it grew at length, my coat did likewise shine;</div> - <div>But now I'm growing old; my beauty does decay,</div> - <div>My master frowns upon me; one day I heard him say,</div> - <div class="i10"><i>Poor old horse: poor old horse.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Once I was kept in the stable snug and warm,</div> - <div>To keep my tender limbs from any cold or harm;</div> - <div>But now, in open fields, I am forced for to go,</div> - <div>In all sorts of weather, let it be hail, rain, freeze, or snow.</div> - <div class="i10"><i>Poor old horse: poor old horse.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Once I was fed on the very best corn and hay</div> - <div>That ever grew in yon fields, or in yon meadows gay;</div> - <div>But now there's no such doing can I find at all,</div> - <div>I'm glad to pick the green sprouts that grow behind yon wall.</div> - <div class="i10"><i>Poor old horse: poor old horse.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"You are old, you are cold, you are deaf, dull, dumb and slow,</div> - <div>You are not fit for anything, or in my team to draw.</div> - <div>You have eaten all my hay, you have spoiled all my straw,</div> - <div>So hang him, whip, stick him, to the huntsman let him go."</div> - <div class="i10"><i>Poor old horse: poor old horse.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My hide unto the tanners then I would freely give,</div> - <div>My body to the hound dogs, I would rather die than live,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Likewise my poor old bones that have carried you many a mile,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Over hedges, ditches, brooks, bridges, likewise gates and stiles.</div> - <div class="i10"><i>Poor old horse: poor old horse</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_91"><a href="#note_91">91</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AY ME, ALAS, HEIGH HO!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Ay me, alas, heigh ho, heigh ho!</i></div> - <div>Thus doth Messalina go</div> - <div>Up and down the house a-crying,</div> - <div>For her monkey lies a-dying.</div> - <div>Death, thou art too cruel</div> - <div>To bereave her of her jewel,</div> - <div>Or to make a seizure</div> - <div>Of her only treasure.</div> - <div>If her monkey die,</div> - <div>She will sit and cry,</div> - <div><i>Fie fie fie fie fie!</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_92"><a href="#note_92">92</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FLY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Once musing as I sat,</div> - <div>And candle burning by,</div> - <div>When all were hushed, I might discern</div> - <div>A simple, sely fly;</div> - <div>That flew before mine eyes,</div> - <div>With free rejoicing heart,</div> - <div>And here and there with wings did play,</div> - <div>As void of pain and smart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></div> - <div>Sometime by me she sat</div> - <div>When she had played her fill;</div> - <div>And ever when she rested had</div> - <div>About she fluttered still.</div> - <div>When I perceived her well</div> - <div>Rejoicing in her place,</div> - <div>"O happy fly!" (quoth I), and eke</div> - <div>O worm in happy case!</div> - <div>Which of us two is best?</div> - <div>I that have reason? No:</div> - <div>But thou that reason art without,</div> - <div>And therefore void of woe.</div> - <div>I live, and so dost thou:</div> - <div>But I live all in pain,</div> - <div>And subject am to one, alas!</div> - <div>That makes my grief her gain.</div> - <div>Thou livest, but feel'st no grief;</div> - <div>No love doth thee torment.</div> - <div>A happy thing for me it were</div> - <div>(If God were so content)</div> - <div>That thou with pen were placèd here,</div> - <div>And I sat in thy place:</div> - <div>Then I should joy as thou dost now,</div> - <div>And thou should'st wail thy case.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Barnabe Googe</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_93"><a href="#note_93">93</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BÊTE HUMAINE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise,</div> - <div>I saw the world awake; and as the ray</div> - <div>Touched the tall grasses where they sleeping lay,</div> - <div>Lo, the bright air alive with dragonflies:</div> - <div>With brittle wings aquiver, and great eyes</div> - <div>Piloting crimson bodies, slender and gay.</div> - <div>I aimed at one, and struck it, and it lay</div> - <div>Broken and lifeless, with fast-fading dyes ...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></div> - <div>Then my soul sickened with a sudden pain</div> - <div>And horror, at my own careless cruelty,</div> - <div>That in an idle moment I had slain</div> - <div>A creature whose sweet life it is to fly:</div> - <div>Like beasts that prey with tooth and claw ...</div> - <div class="i4">Nay, they</div> - <div>Must slay to live, but what excuse had I?</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Francis Brett Young</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_94">94</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LAMB</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Little Lamb, who made thee?</div> - <div class="i1">Dost thou know who made thee?</div> - <div>Gave thee life, and bid thee feed,</div> - <div>By the stream, and o'er the mead;</div> - <div>Gave thee clothing of delight,</div> - <div>Softest clothing, woolly, bright;</div> - <div>Gave thee such a tender voice,</div> - <div>Making all the vales rejoice?</div> - <div class="i1">Little Lamb, who made thee?</div> - <div class="i1">Dost thou know who made thee?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,</div> - <div class="i1">Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:</div> - <div>He is called by thy name,</div> - <div>For He calls Himself a Lamb.</div> - <div>He is meek, and He is mild;</div> - <div>He became a little child.</div> - <div>I a child, and thou a lamb,</div> - <div>We are callèd by His name.</div> - <div class="i1">Little Lamb, God bless thee!</div> - <div class="i1">Little Lamb, God bless thee!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_95"><a href="#note_95">95</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SALE OF THE PET LAMB</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 'tis full of grief and pain;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">It boweth down the heart of man, and dulls his cunning brain;</div> - <div>It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">A thousand flocks were on the hills, a thousand flocks and more,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Feeding in sunshine pleasantly; they were the rich man's store:</div> - <div>There was the while one little lamb beside a cottage door;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little lamb that rested with the children 'neath the tree,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That ate, meek creature, from their hands, and nestled to their knee;</div> - <div>That had a place within their hearts, one of the family.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But want, even as an armèd man, came down upon their shed,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The father laboured all day long that his children might be fed,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And, one by one, their household things were sold to buy them bread.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>That father, with a downcast eye, upon his threshold stood,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Gaunt poverty each pleasant thought had in his heart subdued.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"What is the creature's life to us?" said he: "'twill buy us food.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Ay, though the children weep all day, and with downdrooping head</div> - <div>Each does his small task mournfully, the hungry must be fed;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And that which has a price to bring must go to buy us bread."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It went. Oh! parting has a pang the hardest heart to wring,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But the tender soul of a little child with fervent love doth cling,</div> - <div>With love that hath no feignings false, unto each gentle thing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Therefore most sorrowful it was those children small to see,</div> - <div>Most sorrowful to hear them plead for the lamb so piteously:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Oh! mother dear, it loveth us; and what beside have we?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Let's take him to the broad green hill!" in his impotent despair</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Said one strong boy: "let's take him off, the hills are wide and fair;</div> - <div>I know a little hiding-place, and we will keep him there."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Oh vain! They took the little lamb, and straightway tied him down,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">With a strong cord they tied him fast; and o'er the common brown,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And o'er the hot and flinty roads, they took him to the town.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">The little children through that day, and throughout all the morrow,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">From every thing about the house a mournful thought did borrow;</div> - <div>The very bread they had to eat was food unto their sorrow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 'tis full of grief and pain;</div> - <div>It keepeth down the soul of man, as with an iron chain;</div> - <div>It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">Mary Howitt</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_96">96</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A CHILD'S PET</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I sailed out of Baltimore</div> - <div class="i1">With twice a thousand head of sheep,</div> - <div>They would not eat, they would not drink,</div> - <div class="i1">But bleated o'er the deep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Inside the pens we crawled each day,</div> - <div class="i1">To sort the living from the dead;</div> - <div>And when we reached the Mersey's mouth,</div> - <div class="i1">Had lost five hundred head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet every night and day one sheep,</div> - <div class="i1">That had no fear of man or sea,</div> - <div>Stuck through the bars its pleading face,</div> - <div class="i1">And it was stroked by me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And to the sheep-men standing near,</div> - <div class="i1">"You see," I said, "this one tame sheep:</div> - <div>It seems a child has lost her pet,</div> - <div class="i1">And cried herself to sleep."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So every time we passed it by,</div> - <div class="i1">Sailing to England's slaughter-house,</div> - <div>Eight ragged sheep-men—tramps and thieves—</div> - <div class="i1">Would stroke that sheep's black nose.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William H. Davies</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_97">97</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SNARE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I hear a sudden cry of pain!</div> - <div class="i1">There is a rabbit in a snare:</div> - <div>Now I hear the cry again,</div> - <div class="i1">But I cannot tell from where.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But I cannot tell from where</div> - <div class="i1">He is calling out for aid;</div> - <div>Crying on the frightened air,</div> - <div class="i1">Making everything afraid.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Making everything afraid,</div> - <div class="i1">Wrinkling up his little face,</div> - <div>As he cries again for aid;</div> - <div class="i1">And I cannot find the place!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And I cannot find the place</div> - <div class="i1">Where his paw is in the snare:</div> - <div>Little one! Oh, little one!</div> - <div class="i1">I am searching everywhere.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">James Stephens</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_98"><a href="#note_98">98</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MONK AND HIS PET CAT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I and my white Pangur</div> - <div>Have each his special art:</div> - <div>His mind is set on hunting mice,</div> - <div>Mine is upon my special craft.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I love to rest—better than any fame!—</div> - <div>With close study at my little book;</div> - <div>White Pangur does not envy me:</div> - <div>He loves his childish play.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When in our house we two are all alone—</div> - <div>A tale without tedium!</div> - <div>We have—sport never-ending!</div> - <div>Something to exercise our wit.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At times by feats of derring-do</div> - <div>A mouse sticks in his net,</div> - <div>While into my net there drops</div> - <div>A difficult problem of hard meaning.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He points his full shining eye</div> - <div>Against the fence of the wall:</div> - <div>I point my clear though feeble eye</div> - <div>Against the keenness of science.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He rejoices with quick leaps</div> - <div>When in his sharp claw sticks a mouse:</div> - <div>I too rejoice when I have grasped</div> - <div>A problem difficult and dearly loved.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though we are thus at all times,</div> - <div>Neither hinders the other,</div> - <div>Each of us pleased with his own art</div> - <div>Amuses himself alone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He is a master of the work</div> - <div>Which every day he does:</div> - <div>While I am at my own work</div> - <div>To bring difficulty to clearness.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_99"><a href="#note_99">99</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE TYGER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tyger! Tyger! burning bright</div> - <div>In the forests of the night,</div> - <div>What immortal hand or eye</div> - <div>Could frame thy fearful symmetry?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In what distant deeps or skies</div> - <div>Burnt the fire of thine eyes?</div> - <div>On what wings dare he aspire?</div> - <div>What the hand dare seize the fire?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And what shoulder, and what art,</div> - <div>Could twist the sinews of thy heart?</div> - <div>And when thy heart began to beat,</div> - <div>What dread hand? and what dread feet?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What the hammer? what the chain?</div> - <div>In what furnace was thy brain?</div> - <div>What the anvil? what dread grasp</div> - <div>Dare its deadly terrors clasp?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the stars threw down their spears,</div> - <div>And watered heaven with their tears,</div> - <div>Did he smile his work to see?</div> - <div>Did He who made the Lamb make thee?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tyger! Tyger! burning bright</div> - <div>In the forests of the night,</div> - <div>What immortal hand or eye,</div> - <div>Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_100"><a href="#note_100">100</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE DEATH OF HER FAWN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">The wanton Troopers riding by</div> - <div>Have shot my Fawn, and it will dye.</div> - <div>Ungentlemen! they cannot thrive</div> - <div>Who killed thee. Thou ne'er didst alive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></div> - <div>Them any Harm: alas! nor cou'd</div> - <div>Thy Death yet do them any Good ...</div> - <div>For it was full of sport, and light</div> - <div>Of foot and heart, and did invite</div> - <div>Me to its game; it seemed to bless</div> - <div>Itself in me; how could I less</div> - <div>Than love it? O, I cannot be</div> - <div>Unkind to a beast that loveth me ...</div> - <div class="i1">With sweetest Milk, and Sugar, first</div> - <div>I it at mine own Fingers nurst;</div> - <div>And as it grew, so every Day</div> - <div>It waxed more white and sweet than they.</div> - <div>It had so sweet a Breath! And oft</div> - <div>I blushed to see its Foot more soft,</div> - <div>And white (shall I say than my Hand?)</div> - <div>Nay, any Ladie's of the Land.</div> - <div class="i1">It is a wond'rous Thing how fleet</div> - <div>'Twas on those little Silver Feet;</div> - <div>With what a pretty skipping Grace,</div> - <div>It oft would challenge me the Race;</div> - <div>And when 't had left me far away,</div> - <div>'Twould stay, and run again, and stay;</div> - <div>For it was nimbler much than Hindes,</div> - <div>And trod as if on the Four Winds.</div> - <div class="i1">I have a Garden of my own,</div> - <div>But so with Roses over-grown,</div> - <div>And Lillies, that you would it guess</div> - <div>To be a little Wilderness;</div> - <div>And all the Spring Time of the Year</div> - <div>It only lovèd to be there.</div> - <div>Among the Beds of Lillies I</div> - <div>Have sought it oft, where it should lye;</div> - <div>Yet could not, till it self would rise,</div> - <div>Find it, although before mine Eyes:</div> - <div>For, in the flaxen Lillies' Shade,</div> - <div>It like a Bank of Lillies laid.</div> - <div>Upon the Roses it would feed,</div> - <div>Until its Lips ev'n seemed to bleed;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></div> - <div>And then to me 'twould boldly trip,</div> - <div>And print those Roses on my Lip.</div> - <div>But all its chief Delight was still</div> - <div>On Roses thus itself to fill,</div> - <div>And its pure Virgin Limbs to fold</div> - <div>In whitest sheets of Lillies cold:</div> - <div>Had it lived long, it would have been</div> - <div>Lillies without, Roses within....</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Andrew Marvell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_101"><a href="#note_101">101</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OF ALL THE BIRDS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Of all the birds that I do know,</div> - <div class="i1">Philip my sparrow hath no peer;</div> - <div>For sit she high, or sit she low,</div> - <div class="i1">Be she far off, or be she near,</div> - <div>There is no bird so fair, so fine,</div> - <div>Nor yet so fresh as this of mine;</div> - <div>For when she once hath felt a fit,</div> - <div>Philip will cry still: <i>Yet, yet, yet</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Come in a morning merrily</div> - <div class="i1">When Philip hath been lately fed;</div> - <div>Or in an evening soberly</div> - <div class="i1">When Philip list to go to bed;</div> - <div>It is a heaven to hear my Phipp,</div> - <div>How she can chirp with merry lip,</div> - <div>For when she once hath felt a fit,</div> - <div>Philip will cry still: <i>Yet, yet, yet</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She never wanders far abroad,</div> - <div class="i1">But is at home when I do call.</div> - <div>If I command she lays on load<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></div> - <div class="i1">With lips, with teeth, with tongue and all.</div> - <div>She chants, she chirps, she makes such cheer,</div> - <div>That I believe she hath no peer.</div> - <div>For when she once hath felt the fit,</div> - <div>Philip will cry still: <i>Yet, yet, yet</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And yet besides all this good sport</div> - <div class="i1">My Philip can both sing and dance,</div> - <div>With new found toys of sundry sort</div> - <div class="i1">My Philip can both prick and prance.</div> - <div>And if you say but: Fend cut,<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> Phipp!</div> - <div>Lord, how the peat<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> will turn and skip!</div> - <div>For when she once hath felt the fit,</div> - <div>Philip will cry still: <i>Yet, yet, yet</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And to tell truth he were to blame—</div> - <div class="i1">Having so fine a bird as she,</div> - <div>To make him all this goodly game</div> - <div class="i1">Without suspect or jealousy—</div> - <div>He were a churl and knew no good,</div> - <div>Would see her faint for lack of food,</div> - <div>For when she once hath felt the fit,</div> - <div>Philip will cry still: <i>Yet, yet, yet.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_102"><a href="#note_102">102</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE DEAD SPARROW</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tell me not of joy: there's none,</div> - <div>Now my little Sparrow's gone:</div> - <div class="i4">He, just as you,</div> - <div class="i4">Would try and woo,</div> - <div>He would chirp and flatter me;</div> - <div>He would hang the wing awhile—</div> - <div>Till at length he saw me smile</div> - <div>Lord, how sullen he would be!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He would catch a crumb, and then</div> - <div>Sporting, let it go agen;</div> - <div class="i4">He from my lip</div> - <div class="i4">Would moisture sip;</div> - <div>He would from my trencher feed;</div> - <div>Then would hop, and then would run,</div> - <div>And cry <i>Philip</i> when he'd done.</div> - <div>O! whose heart can choose but bleed?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O how eager would he fight,</div> - <div>And ne'er hurt, though he did bite.</div> - <div class="i4">No morn did pass,</div> - <div class="i4">But on my glass</div> - <div>He would sit, and mark and do</div> - <div>What I did—now ruffle all</div> - <div>His feathers o'er, now let'em fall;</div> - <div>And then straightway sleek them too.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Whence will Cupid get his darts</div> - <div>Feathered now to pierce our hearts?</div> - <div class="i4">A wound he may</div> - <div class="i4">Not, Love, convey,</div> - <div>Now this faithful bird is gone;</div> - <div class="i1">O let mournful turtles join</div> - <div class="i1">With loving red-breasts, and combine</div> - <div>To sing dirges o'er his stone!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Cartwright</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_103">103</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ON A LITTLE BIRD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here lies a little bird.</div> - <div class="i1">Once all day long</div> - <div>In Martha's house was heard</div> - <div class="i1">His rippling song.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tread lightly where he lies</div> - <div class="i1">Beneath this stone</div> - <div>With nerveless wings, closed eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">And sweet voice gone.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Martin Armstrong</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_104">104</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ADLESTROP</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yes. I remember Adlestrop—</div> - <div>The name, because one afternoon</div> - <div>Of heat the express-train drew up there</div> - <div>Unwontedly. It was late June.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.</div> - <div>No one left and no one came</div> - <div>On the bare platform. What I saw</div> - <div>Was Adlestrop—only the name</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And willows, willow-herb, and grass,</div> - <div>And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,</div> - <div>No whit less still and lonely fair</div> - <div>Than the high cloudlets in the sky.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And for that minute a blackbird sang</div> - <div>Close by, and round him, mistier,</div> - <div>Farther and farther, all the birds</div> - <div>Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Edward Thomas</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_105"><a href="#note_105">105</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,</div> - <div>Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:</div> - <div>Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard</div> - <div>In the silence of morning the song of the bird.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees</div> - <div>A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;</div> - <div>Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,</div> - <div>And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale</div> - <div>Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;</div> - <div>And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,</div> - <div>The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,</div> - <div>The mist and the river, the hill and the shade;</div> - <div>The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,</div> - <div>And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William Wordsworth</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_106">106</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE THRUSH'S SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dear, dear, dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Is the rocky glen.</div> - <div>Far away, far away, far away</div> - <div class="i1">The haunts of men.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here shall we dwell in love</div> - <div>With the lark and the dove,</div> - <div>Cuckoo and cornrail;</div> - <div>Feast on the banded snail,</div> - <div class="i1">Worm and gilded fly;</div> - <div>Drink of the crystal rill</div> - <div>Winding adown the hill,</div> - <div class="i1">Never to dry.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With glee, with glee, with glee,</div> - <div class="i1">Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up, here</div> - <div>Nothing to harm us, then sing merrily,</div> - <div class="i1">Sing to the loved ones whose nest is near—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Qui, qui, qui, kweeu quip,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Tiurru, tiurru, chipiwi,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Too-tee, too-tee, chiu choo,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Chirri, chirri, chooee,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quiu, qui, qui.</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">W. Macgillivray</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_107"><a href="#note_107">107</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SWEET SUFFOLK OWL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sweet Suffolk Owl, so trimly dight</div> - <div>With feathers, like a lady bright,</div> - <div class="i1">Thou sing'st alone, sitting by night,</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Te whit! Te whoo! Te whit! To whit!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thy note that forth so freely rolls</div> - <div>With shrill command the mouse controls;</div> - <div>And sings a dirge for dying souls—</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Te whit! Te whoo! Te whit! To whit!</i></div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Thomas Vautor</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_108">108</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHO? WHO?</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Who—Who—the bride will be?"</div> - <div>"The owl she the bride shall be."</div> - <div class="i2">The owl quoth,</div> - <div class="i2">Again to them both,</div> - <div>"I am sure a grim ladye;</div> - <div class="i2">Not I the bride can be,</div> - <div class="i2">I not the bride can be!"</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_109"><a href="#note_109">109</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHEN CATS RUN HOME</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When cats run home and light is come,</div> - <div class="i1">And dew is cold upon the ground,</div> - <div>And the far-off stream is dumb,</div> - <div class="i1">And the whirring sail goes round,</div> - <div class="i1">And the whirring sail goes round;</div> - <div class="i2">Alone and warming his five wits,</div> - <div class="i2">The white owl in the belfry sits.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When merry milkmaids click the latch,</div> - <div class="i1">And rarely smells the new-mown hay,</div> - <div>And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch</div> - <div class="i1">Twice or thrice his roundelay,</div> - <div class="i1">Twice or thrice his roundelay;</div> - <div class="i2">Alone and warming his five wits,</div> - <div class="i2">The white owl in the belfry sits.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_110">110</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ONCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Once I was a monarch's daughter,</div> - <div class="i1">And sat on a lady's knee;</div> - <div>But am now a nightly rover,</div> - <div class="i1">Banished to the ivy tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Crying hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo,</div> - <div class="i1">Hoo, hoo, hoo, my feet are cold.</div> - <div>Pity me, for here you see me</div> - <div class="i1">Persecuted, poor, and old.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_111"><a href="#note_111">111</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WATER-OUSEL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where on the wrinkled stream the willows lean,</div> - <div>And fling a very ecstasy of green</div> - <div>Down the dim crystal; and the chestnut tree</div> - <div>Admires her large-leaved shadow, swift and free,</div> - <div>A water-ousel came, with such a flight</div> - <div>As archangels might envy. Soft and bright</div> - <div>Upon a water-kissing bough she lit,</div> - <div>And washed and preened her silver breast, though it</div> - <div>Was dazzling fair before. Then twittering</div> - <div>She sang, and made obeisance to the Spring.</div> - <div>And in the wavering amber at her feet</div> - <div>Her silent shadow, with obedience meet,</div> - <div>Made her quick, imitative curtsies, too.</div> - <div>Maybe she dreamed a nest, so safe and dear,</div> - <div>Where the keen spray leaps whitely to the weir;</div> - <div>And smooth, warm eggs that hold a mystery;</div> - <div>And stirrings of life and twitterings, that she</div> - <div>Is passionately glad of; and a breast</div> - <div>As silver-white as hers, which without rest</div> - <div>Or languor, borne by spread wings swift and strong,</div> - <div>Shall fly upon her service all day long.</div> - <div>She hears a presage in the ancient thunder</div> - <div>Of the silken fall, and her small soul in wonder</div> - <div>Makes preparation as she deems most right,</div> - <div>Repurifying what before was white</div> - <div>Against the day when, like a beautiful dream,</div> - <div>Two little ousels shall fly with her down stream,</div> - <div>And even the poor, dumb shadow-bird shall flit</div> - <div>With two small shadows following after it.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">Mary Webb</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_112"><a href="#note_112">112</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>L'OISEAU BLEU</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The lake lay blue below the hill.</div> - <div class="i1">O'er it, as I looked, there flew</div> - <div>Across the waters, cold and still,</div> - <div class="i1">A bird whose wings were palest blue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The sky above was blue at last,</div> - <div class="i1">The sky beneath me blue in blue.</div> - <div>A moment, ere the bird had passed,</div> - <div class="i1">It caught his image as he flew.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Mary Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_113">113</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>I HAD A DOVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I had a dove and the sweet dove died;</div> - <div class="i1">And I have thought it died of grieving:</div> - <div>O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied,</div> - <div class="i1">With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving;</div> - <div class="i1">Sweet little red feet! why should you die—</div> - <div>Why should you leave me, sweet bird! Why?</div> - <div>You lived alone in the forest-tree,</div> - <div>Why, pretty thing I would you not live with me?</div> - <div>I kissed you oft and gave you white peas;</div> - <div>Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_114"><a href="#note_114">114</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>PHILOMEL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As it fell upon a day</div> - <div>In the merry month of May,</div> - <div>Sitting in a pleasant shade</div> - <div>Which a grove of myrtles made,</div> - <div>Beasts did leap and birds did sing,</div> - <div>Trees did grow and plants did spring;</div> - <div>Everything did banish moan</div> - <div>Save the Nightingale alone:</div> - <div>She, poor bird, as all forlorn</div> - <div>Leaned her breast up-till a thorn,</div> - <div>And there sung the doleful'st ditty.</div> - <div>That to hear it was great pity.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Fie, fie, fie!</i> now would she cry;</div> - <div><i>Tereu, tereu!</i> by and by;</div> - <div>That to hear her so complain</div> - <div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></div> - <div>Scarce I could from tears refrain;</div> - <div>For her griefs so lively shown</div> - <div>Made me think upon mine own.</div> - <div>Ah! thought I, thou mourn'st in vain,</div> - <div>None takes pity on thy pain:</div> - <div>Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,</div> - <div>Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:</div> - <div>King Pandion he is dead,</div> - <div>All thy friends are lapped in lead;</div> - <div>All thy fellow birds do sing</div> - <div>Careless of thy sorrowing:</div> - <div>Even so, poor bird, like thee,</div> - <div>None alive will pity me.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Richard Barnfield</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_115"><a href="#note_115">115</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A SPARROW-HAWK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A sparhawk proud did hold in wicked jail</div> - <div>Music's sweet chorister, the Nightingale;</div> - <div>To whom with sighs she said: "O set me free,</div> - <div>And in my song I'll praise no bird but thee."</div> - <div>The Hawk replied: "I will not lose my diet</div> - <div>To let a thousand such enjoy their quiet."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_116">116</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE EAGLE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He clasps the crag with crooked hands;</div> - <div>Close to the sun in lonely lands,</div> - <div>Ringed with the azure world, he stands.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;</div> - <div>He watches from his mountain walls,</div> - <div>And like a thunderbolt he falls.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_117">117</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE TWA CORBIES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I was walking all alane,</div> - <div>I heard twa corbies making a mane,</div> - <div>And tane unto the tither say:—</div> - <div>"Where sall we gang and dine to-day?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"—In behint yon auld fail dyke,<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a></div> - <div>I wat there lies a new-slain Knight;</div> - <div>And naebody kens that he lies there</div> - <div>But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"His hound is to the hunting gane,</div> - <div>His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,</div> - <div>His lady's ta'en another mate,</div> - <div>So we may mak our dinner sweet.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,</div> - <div>And I'll pick out his bonnie blue een.</div> - <div>Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair</div> - <div>We'll theek<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> our nest when it grows bare.</div> - </div> - - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Mony a one for him maks mane,</div> - <div>But nane sall ken where he is gane.</div> - <div>O'er his white banes, where they are bare,</div> - <div>The wind sall blaw for evermair."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_118">118</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IN THE WILDERNESS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Christ of His gentleness</div> - <div>Thirsting and hungering</div> - <div>Walked in the wilderness;</div> - <div>Soft words of grace He spoke</div> - <div>Unto lost desert-folk</div> - <div>That listened wondering.</div> - <div>He heard the bitterns call</div> - <div>From ruined palace-wall,</div> - <div>Answered them brotherly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></div> - <div>He held communion</div> - <div>With the she-pelican</div> - <div>Of lonely piety.</div> - <div>Basilisk, cockatrice,</div> - <div>Flocked to His homilies,</div> - <div>With mail of dread device,</div> - <div>With monstrous barbèd stings,</div> - <div>With eager dragon-eyes;</div> - <div>Great rats on leather wings</div> - <div>And poor blind broken things,</div> - <div>Foul in their miseries.</div> - <div>And ever with Him went,</div> - <div>Of all His wanderings</div> - <div>Comrade, with ragged coat,</div> - <div>Gaunt ribs—poor innocent—</div> - <div>Bleeding foot, burning throat,</div> - <div>The guileless old scape-goat;</div> - <div>For forty nights and days</div> - <div>Followed in Jesus' ways,</div> - <div>Sure guard behind Him kept,</div> - <div>Tears like a lover wept.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Robert Graves</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_119">119</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>STUPIDITY STREET</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw with open eyes</div> - <div>Singing birds sweet</div> - <div>Sold in the shops</div> - <div>For the people to eat,</div> - <div>Sold in the shops of</div> - <div>Stupidity Street.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw in vision</div> - <div>The worm in the wheat,</div> - <div>And in the shops nothing</div> - <div>For people to eat;</div> - <div>Nothing for sale in</div> - <div>Stupidity Street.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Ralph Hodgson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_120"><a href="#note_120">120</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>COME WARY ONE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"'Come wary one, come slender feet,</div> - <div>Come pretty bird and sing to me,</div> - <div>I have a cage of wizard wood</div> - <div>With perch of ebony;</div> - <div>Come pretty bird, there's dainty food,</div> - <div>There's cherry, plum, and strawberry,</div> - <div>In my red cage, my wizard cage,</div> - <div>The cage I made for thee.'</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The bird flew down, the bird flew in,</div> - <div>The cherries they were dried and dead,</div> - <div>She tied him with a silken skein</div> - <div>To a perch of molten lead;</div> - <div>And first most dire he did complain,</div> - <div>And next he sulky sad did fall,</div> - <div>Chained to his perch, his burning perch,</div> - <div>He would not sing at all.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"There came an elf, a silent elf,</div> - <div>A silver wand hung by his side,</div> - <div>And when that wand lay on the door,</div> - <div>The door did open wide.</div> - <div>The pretty bird with beak he tore</div> - <div>That silken skein, then out flew he,</div> - <div>From that red cage, that greedy cage,</div> - <div>That cage of wizardry."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Ruth Manning-Sanders</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_121">121</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UPON THE LARK AND THE FOWLER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Thou simple Bird what mak'st thou here to play?</div> - <div>Look, there's the Fowler, prethee come away.</div> - <div>Dost not behold the Net? Look there 'tis spread,</div> - <div>Venture a little further thou art dead.</div> - <div class="i1">Is there not room enough in all the Field</div> - <div>For thee to play in, but thou needs must yield<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></div> - <div>To the deceitful glitt'ring of a Glass,</div> - <div>Placed betwixt Nets to bring thy death to pass?</div> - <div class="i1">Bird, if thou art so much for dazling light,</div> - <div>Look, there's the Sun above thee, dart upright.</div> - <div>Thy nature is to soar up to the Sky,</div> - <div>Why wilt thou come down to the nets, and dye?</div> - <div class="i1">Take no heed to the Fowler's tempting Call;</div> - <div>This whistle he enchanteth Birds withal.</div> - <div>Or if thou seest a live Bird in his net,</div> - <div>Believe she's there 'cause thence she cannot get.</div> - <div>Look how he tempteth thee with his Decoy,</div> - <div>That he may rob thee of thy Life, thy Joy:</div> - <div>Come, prethee Bird, I prethee come away,</div> - <div>Why should this net thee take, when 'scape thou may?</div> - <div class="i1">Hadst thou not Wings, or were thy feathers pulled,</div> - <div>Or wast thou blind or fast asleep wer't lulled:</div> - <div>The case would somewhat alter, but for thee,</div> - <div>Thy eyes are ope, and thou hast Wings to see.</div> - <div class="i1">Remember that thy Song is in thy Rise,</div> - <div>Not in thy Fall, Earth's not thy Paradise.</div> - <div>Keep up aloft then, let thy circuits be</div> - <div>Above, where Birds from Fowlers nets are free....</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">John Bunyan</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_122">122</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BIRDS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>He.</i> Where thou dwellest, in what Grove,</div> - <div class="i2">Tell me Fair One, tell me Love;</div> - <div class="i2">thou thy charming nest dost build,</div> - <div class="i2">O thou pride of every field!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>She.</i> Yonder stands a lonely tree,</div> - <div class="i2">There I live and mourn for thee;</div> - <div class="i2">Morning drinks my silent tear,</div> - <div class="i2">And evening winds my sorrow bear.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>He.</i> O thou summer's harmony,</div> - <div class="i2">I have lived and mourned for thee;</div> - <div class="i2">Each day I mourn along the wood,</div> - <div class="i2">And night hath heard my sorrows loud.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>She.</i> Dost thou truly long for me?</div> - <div class="i2">And am I thus sweet to thee?</div> - <div class="i2">Sorrow now is at an end,</div> - <div class="i2">O my Lover and my Friend!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>He.</i> Come, on wings of joy we'll fly</div> - <div class="i2">To where my bower hangs on high;</div> - <div class="i2">Come, and make thy calm retreat</div> - <div class="i2">Among green leaves and blossoms sweet.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_123">123</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TWO PEWITS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Under the after-sunset sky</div> - <div>Two pewits sport and cry,</div> - <div>More white than is the moon on high</div> - <div>Riding the dark surge silently;</div> - <div>More black than earth. Their cry</div> - <div>Is the one sound under the sky.</div> - <div>They alone move, now low, now high,</div> - <div>And merrily they cry</div> - <div>To the mischievous Spring sky,</div> - <div>Plunging earthward, tossing high,</div> - <div>Over the ghost who wonders why</div> - <div>So merrily they cry and fly,</div> - <div>Nor choose 'twixt earth and sky,</div> - <div>While the moon's quarter silently</div> - <div>Rides, and earth rests as silently.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Edward Thomas</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_124">124</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TO A WATERFOWL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Whither, midst falling dew,</div> - <div>While glow the heavens with the last steps of day</div> - <div>Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue</div> - <div class="i2">Thy solitary way?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Vainly the fowler's eye</div> - <div>Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></div> - <div>As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,</div> - <div class="i2">Thy figure floats along.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Seek'st thou the plashy brink</div> - <div>Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,</div> - <div>Or where the rocking billows rise and sink</div> - <div class="i2">On the chafed ocean-side?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">There is a Power whose care</div> - <div>Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,—</div> - <div>The desert and illimitable air,—</div> - <div class="i2">Lone wandering, but not lost.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">All day thy wings have fanned</div> - <div>At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere,</div> - <div>Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,</div> - <div class="i2">Though the dark night is near.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">And soon that toil shall end;</div> - <div>Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,</div> - <div>And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,</div> - <div class="i2">Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Thou'rt gone: the abyss of heaven</div> - <div>Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart</div> - <div>Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,</div> - <div class="i2">And shall not soon depart.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">He who, from zone to zone,</div> - <div>Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,</div> - <div>In the long way that I must tread alone,</div> - <div class="i2">Will lead my steps aright.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Cullen Bryant</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_125">125</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MIDNIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Midnight was come, when every vital thing</div> - <div>With sweet sound sleep their weary limbs did rest,</div> - <div>The beasts were still, the little birds that sing</div> - <div>Now sweetly slept, beside their mother's breast,</div> - <div>The old and all were shrouded in their nest:</div> - <div class="i1">The waters calm, the cruel seas did cease,</div> - <div class="i1">The woods, and fields, and all things held their peace.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The golden stars were whirled amid their race,</div> - <div>And on the earth did laugh with twinkling light,</div> - <div>When each thing, nestled in his resting-place,</div> - <div>Forgat day's pain with pleasure of the night:</div> - <div>The hare had not the greedy hounds in sight,</div> - <div class="i1">The fearful deer of death stood not in doubt,</div> - <div class="i1">The partridge dreamed not of the falcon's foot.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The ugly bear now minded not the stake,</div> - <div>Nor how the cruel mastives do him tear;</div> - <div>The stag lay still unrousèd from the brake;</div> - <div>The foamy boar feared not the hunter's spear:</div> - <div>All things were still, in desert, bush, and brere:<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a></div> - <div class="i1">With quiet heart, now from their travails ceased,</div> - <div class="i1">Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_117" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_117.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>ELPHIN : OUPH : FAY.</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_126"><a href="#note_126">126</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ileft">(<i>Ariel singing</i>)<span class="i1">Come unto these yellow sands,</span></div> - <div class="i7">And then take hands:</div> - <div class="i6h">Curtsied when you have, and kist,</div> - <div class="i7">The wilde waves whist:</div> - <div class="i4">Foote it featly heere, and there,</div> - <div class="i4">And sweete Sprights the burthen beare.</div> - <div class="i4">Harke, harke, <i>bowgh wawgh</i>:</div> - <div class="i4">The watch-dogges barke, <i>bowgh wawgh</i>.</div> - <div class="i6">Hark, hark, I heare,</div> - <div class="i5">The straine of strutting Chanticlere</div> - <div class="i7">Cry <i>Cockadidle-dowe</i>.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_127">127</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE ELVES' DANCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Round about, round about</div> - <div class="i1">In a fair ring-a,</div> - <div>Thus we dance, thus we dance</div> - <div class="i1">And thus we sing-a,</div> - <div>Trip and go, to and fro</div> - <div class="i1">Over this green-a,</div> - <div>All about, in and out,</div> - <div class="i1">For our brave Queen-a.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_128"><a href="#note_128">128</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BY THE MOON</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>By the Moone we sport and play,</div> - <div>With the night begins our day:</div> - <div>As we daunce the deaw doth fall,</div> - <div>Trip it little urchins all:</div> - <div>Lightly as the little Bee,</div> - <div>Two by two, and three by three:</div> - <div>And about go we, and about go wee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I do come about the coppes,</div> - <div>Leaping upon flowers toppes:</div> - <div>Then I get upon a flie,</div> - <div>Shee carries me above the skie:</div> - <div>And trip and goe."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"When a deawe drop falleth downe,</div> - <div>And doth light upon my crowne,</div> - <div>Then I shake my head and skip,</div> - <div>And about I trip.</div> - <div>Two by two, and three by three:</div> - <div>And about go we, and about go wee."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Ravenscroft</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_129"><a href="#note_129">129</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FOR A MOCKING VOICE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Who calls? Who calls? Who?</div> - <div>Did you call? Did you?—</div> - <div>I call! I call! I!</div> - <div>Follow where I fly.—</div> - <div>Where? O where? O where?</div> - <div>On Earth or in the Air?—</div> - <div>Where you come, I'm gone!</div> - <div>Where you fly, I've flown!—</div> - <div>Stay! ah, stay! ah, stay,</div> - <div>Pretty Elf, and play!</div> - <div>Tell me where you are—</div> - <div><i>Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Eleanor Farjeon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_130">130</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHERE THE BEE SUCKS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Where the Bee sucks, there suck I,</div> - <div class="i2">In a Cowslip's bell I lie,</div> - <div class="i2">There I cowch when Owles do crie;</div> - <div class="i2">On the Batt's back I doe flie</div> - <div class="i2">After Sommer merrily.</div> - <div>Merrily, merrily, shall I live now</div> - <div>Under the blossom that hangs on the Bow.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_131">131</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ECHO</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How see you Echo? When she calls I see</div> - <div>Her pale face looking down through some great tree,</div> - <div>Whose world of green is like a moving sea,</div> - <div>That shells re-echo.</div> - <div>I see her with a white face like a mask,</div> - <div>That vanishes to come again; damask</div> - <div>Her cheek, but deeply pale,</div> - <div>Her eyes are green,</div> - <div>With a silver sheen,</div> - <div>And she mocks the thing you ask.</div> - <div>"O Echo!" (hear the children calling) "are you there?"...</div> - <div>"Where?"...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the wind blows over the hill,</div> - <div>She hides with a vagrant will,</div> - <div>And call you may loud, and call you may long,</div> - <div>She lays finger on lip when the winds are strong,</div> - <div>And for all your pains she is still.</div> - <div>But when young plants spring, and the chiff-chaffs sing,</div> - <div>And the scarlet capped woodpecker flies through the vale,</div> - <div>She is out all day,</div> - <div>Through the fragrant May,</div> - <div>To babble and tattle her Yea and Nay.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"O Echo!" (still the children call) "Where are you? where?"...</div> - <div>"Air...."</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Viscountess Grey</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_132">132</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SPLENDOUR FALLS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The splendour falls on castle walls</div> - <div class="i1">And snowy summits old in story:</div> - <div>The long light shakes across the lakes,</div> - <div class="i1">And the wild cataract leaps in glory.</div> - <div>Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,</div> - <div>Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,</div> - <div class="i1">And thinner, clearer, farther going!</div> - <div>O sweet and far from cliff and scar</div> - <div class="i1">The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!</div> - <div>Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:</div> - <div>Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O love, they die in yon rich sky,</div> - <div class="i1">They faint on hill or field or river:</div> - <div>Our echoes roll from soul to soul,</div> - <div class="i1">And grow for ever and for ever.</div> - <div>Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,</div> - <div>And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_133"><a href="#note_133">133</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FAIRIES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Up the airy mountain,</div> - <div class="i1">Down the rushy glen,</div> - <div>We daren't go a-hunting</div> - <div class="i1">For fear of little men;</div> - <div>Wee folk, good folk,</div> - <div class="i1">Trooping all together;</div> - <div>Green jacket, red cap,</div> - <div class="i1">And white owl's feather!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Down along the rocky shore</div> - <div class="i1">Some make their home,</div> - <div>They live on crispy pancakes</div> - <div class="i1">Of yellow tide-foam;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></div> - <div>Some in the reeds</div> - <div class="i1">Of the black mountain-lake,</div> - <div>With frogs for their watch-dogs,</div> - <div class="i1">All night awake.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>High on the hill-top</div> - <div class="i1">The old King sits;</div> - <div>He is now so old and gray</div> - <div class="i1">He's nigh lost his wits.</div> - <div>With a bridge of white mist</div> - <div class="i1">Columbkill he crosses,</div> - <div>On his stately journeys</div> - <div class="i1">From Slieveleague to Rosses;</div> - <div>Or going up with music</div> - <div class="i1">On cold starry nights,</div> - <div>To sup with the Queen</div> - <div class="i1">Of the gay Northern Lights.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They stole little Bridget</div> - <div class="i1">For seven years long;</div> - <div>When she came down again</div> - <div class="i1">Her friends were all gone.</div> - <div>They took her lightly back,</div> - <div class="i1">Between the night and morrow,</div> - <div>They thought that she was fast asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">But she was dead with sorrow.</div> - <div>They have kept her ever since</div> - <div class="i1">Deep within the lake,</div> - <div>On a bed of flag-leaves,</div> - <div class="i1">Watching till she wake.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>By the craggy hill-side,</div> - <div class="i1">Through the mosses bare,</div> - <div>They have planted thorn-trees</div> - <div class="i1">For pleasure here and there.</div> - <div>Is any man so daring</div> - <div class="i1">As to dig one up in spite,</div> - <div>He shall find the thornies set</div> - <div class="i1">In his bed at night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Up the airy mountain,</div> - <div class="i1">Down the rushy glen,</div> - <div>We daren't go a-hunting</div> - <div class="i1">For fear of little men;</div> - <div>Wee folk, good folk,</div> - <div class="i1">Trooping all together;</div> - <div>Green jacket, red cap,</div> - <div class="i1">And white owl's feather!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Allingham</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_134">134</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OVERHEARD ON A SALTMARSH</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Give them me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i8">No.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Give them me. Give them me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i14">No.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then I will howl all night in the reeds,</div> - <div>Lie in the mud and howl for them.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Goblin, why do you love them so?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They are better than stars or water,</div> - <div>Better than voices of winds that sing,</div> - <div>Better than any man's fair daughter,</div> - <div>Your green glass beads on a silver ring.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hush, I stole them out of the moon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Give me your beads, I want them.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i17">No.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I will howl in a deep lagoon</div> - <div>For your green glass beads, I love them so.</div> - <div>Give them me. Give them.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i13">No.</div> - <div class="i10">Harold Monro</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_135"><a href="#note_135">135</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FAIRY THORN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning wheel;</div> - <div class="i1">For your father's on the hill, and your mother is asleep:</div> - <div>Come up above the crags, and we'll dance a highland reel</div> - <div class="i3">Around the fairy thorn on the steep."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At Anna Grace's door 'twas thus the maidens cried,</div> - <div class="i1">Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green;</div> - <div>And Anna laid the rock<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> and the weary wheel aside,</div> - <div class="i3">The fairest of the four, I ween.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They're glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve,</div> - <div class="i1">Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare;</div> - <div>The heavy-sliding stream in its sleep song they leave,</div> - <div class="i3">And the crags in the ghostly air.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And linking hand and hand, and singing as they go,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">The maids along the hill-side have ta'en their fearless way,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty grow</div> - <div class="i3">Beside the Fairy Hawthorn grey.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim,</div> - <div class="i1">Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her knee;</div> - <div>The rowan berries cluster o'er her low head grey and dim</div> - <div class="i3">In ruddy kisses sweet to see.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row,</div> - <div class="i1">Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem,</div> - <div>And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go,</div> - <div class="i3">Oh, never carolled bird like them!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But solemn is the silence of the silvery haze</div> - <div class="i1">That drinks away their voices in echoless repose,</div> - <div>And dreamily the evening has stilled the haunted braes,</div> - <div class="i3">And dreamier the gloaming grows.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the sky</div> - <div class="i1">When the falcon's shadow saileth across the open shaw,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></div> - <div>Are hushed the maidens' voices, as cowering down they lie</div> - <div class="i3">In the flutter of their sudden awe.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For, from the air above, and the grassy ground beneath,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And from the mountain-ashes and the old Whitethorn between,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">A power of faint enchantment doth through their beings breathe,</div> - <div class="i3">And they sink down together on the green.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They sink together silent, and stealing side to side,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">They fling their lovely arms o'er their drooping necks so fair.</div> - <div>Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide,</div> - <div class="i3">For their shrinking necks again are bare.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Thus clasped and prostrate all, with their heads together bowed,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">Soft o'er their bosom's beating—the only human sound—</div> - <div>They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd,</div> - <div class="i3">Like a river in the air, gliding round.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Nor scream can any raise, nor prayer can any say,</div> - <div class="i1">But wild, wild, the terror of the speechless three—</div> - <div>For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away,</div> - <div class="i3">By whom they dare not look to see.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of gold,</div> - <div class="i1">And the curls elastic falling, as her head withdraws;</div> - <div>They feel her sliding arms from their trancèd arms unfold,</div> - <div class="i3">But they dare not look to see the cause:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment lies</div> - <div class="i1">Through all that night of anguish and perilous amaze;</div> - <div>And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering eyes</div> - <div class="i3">Or their limbs from the cold ground raise,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Till out of Night the Earth has rolled her dewy side,</div> - <div class="i1">With every haunted mountain and streamy vale below;</div> - <div>When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morning-tide,</div> - <div class="i3">The maidens' trance dissolveth so.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may,</div> - <div class="i1">And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in vain—</div> - <div>They pined away and died within the year and day,</div> - <div class="i3">And ne'er was Anna Grace seen again.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Samuel Ferguson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_136"><a href="#note_136">136</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE QUEEN OF ELFLAND</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank,</div> - <div class="i1">And he beheld a ladie gay,</div> - <div>A ladie that was brisk and bold,</div> - <div class="i1">Come riding oer the fernie brae.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,</div> - <div class="i1">Her mantel of the velvet fine,</div> - <div>At ilka tett of her horse's mane</div> - <div class="i1">Hung fifty silver bells and nine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>True Thomas he took off his hat,</div> - <div class="i1">And bowed him low down till his knee:</div> - <div>"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!</div> - <div class="i1">For your peer on earth I never did see."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,</div> - <div class="i1">"That name does not belong to me;</div> - <div>I am but the queen of fair Elfland,</div> - <div class="i1">And I'm come here for to visit thee....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,</div> - <div class="i1">True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,</div> - <div>For ye maun serve me seven years,</div> - <div class="i1">Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Then harp and carp alang wi me;</div> - <div>But it will be seven years and a day</div> - <div class="i1">Till ye win back to yere ain countrie."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She turned about her milk-white steed,</div> - <div class="i1">And took True Thomas up behind,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></div> - <div>And aye wheneer her bridle rang,</div> - <div class="i1">The steed flew swifter than the wind.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For forty days and forty nights</div> - <div class="i1">He wade thro red blude to the knee,</div> - <div>And he saw neither sun nor moon,</div> - <div class="i1">But heard the roaring of the sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O they rade on, and further on,</div> - <div class="i1">Until they came to a garden green:</div> - <div>"Light down, light down, ye ladie free,</div> - <div class="i1">Some of that fruit let me pull to thee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,</div> - <div class="i1">"That fruit maun not be touched by thee,</div> - <div>For a' the plagues that are in hell</div> - <div class="i1">Light on the fruit of this countrie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But I have a loaf here in my lap,</div> - <div class="i1">Likewise a bottle of claret wine,</div> - <div>And now ere we go farther on,</div> - <div class="i1">We'll rest a while, and ye may dine."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When he had eaten and drunk his fill:—</div> - <div class="i1">"Lay down your head upon my knee,"</div> - <div>The lady sayd, "ere we climb yon hill</div> - <div class="i1">And I will show you fairlies three.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O see not ye yon narrow road,</div> - <div class="i1">So thick beset wi thorns and briers?</div> - <div>That is the path of righteousness,</div> - <div class="i1">Tho after it but few enquires.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And see not ye that braid braid road,</div> - <div class="i1">That lies across yon lillie leven?</div> - <div>That is the path of wickedness,</div> - <div class="i1">Tho some call it the road to heaven.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And see not ye that bonny road,</div> - <div class="i1">Which winds about the fernie brae?</div> - <div>That is the road to fair Elfland,</div> - <div class="i1">Where you and I this night maun gae<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,</div> - <div class="i1">Whatever you may hear or see,</div> - <div>For gin ae word you should chance to speak,</div> - <div class="i1">You will neer get back to your ain countrie."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,</div> - <div class="i1">And a pair of shoes of velvet green,</div> - <div>And till seven years were past and gone</div> - <div class="i1">True Thomas on earth was never seen.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_137">137</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,</div> - <div class="i1">Alone and palely loitering;</div> - <div>The sedge has withered from the lake,</div> - <div class="i1">And no birds sing.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,</div> - <div class="i1">So haggard and so woe-begone?</div> - <div>The squirrel's granary is full,</div> - <div class="i1">And the harvest's done.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I see a lilly on thy brow</div> - <div class="i1">With anguish moist and fever-dew,</div> - <div>And on thy cheeks a fading rose</div> - <div class="i1">Fast withereth too.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I met a lady in the meads,</div> - <div class="i1">Full beautiful—a faery's child,</div> - <div>Her hair was long, her foot was light,</div> - <div class="i1">And her eyes were wild.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I made a garland for her head,</div> - <div class="i1">And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;</div> - <div>She looked at me as she did love,</div> - <div class="i1">And made sweet moan.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I set her on my pacing steed</div> - <div class="i1">And nothing else saw all day long;</div> - <div>For sideways would she lean, and sing</div> - <div class="i1">A faery's song.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She found me roots of relish sweet,</div> - <div class="i1">And honey wild and manna dew;</div> - <div>And sure in language strange she said—</div> - <div class="i1">I love thee true.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She took me to her elfin grot,</div> - <div class="i1">And there she gazed and sighed full sore:</div> - <div>And there I shut her wild wild eyes</div> - <div class="i1">With kisses four.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And there she lullèd me asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,</div> - <div>The latest dream I ever dreamed</div> - <div class="i1">On the cold hill side.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw pale kings and princes too,</div> - <div class="i1">Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:</div> - <div>They cry'd—"La belle Dame sans Merci</div> - <div class="i1">Hath thee in thrall!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw their starved lips in the gloam</div> - <div class="i1">With horrid warning gapèd wide,</div> - <div>And I awoke, and found me here</div> - <div class="i1">On the cold hill side.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And this is why I sojourn here</div> - <div class="i1">Alone and palely loitering,</div> - <div>Though the sedge is withered from the lake,</div> - <div class="i1">And no birds sing.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_138"><a href="#note_138">138</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SABRINA</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Sabrina fair</div> - <div class="i1">Listen where thou art sitting</div> - <div>Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,</div> - <div class="i1">In twisted braids of Lillies knitting</div> - <div>The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,</div> - <div class="i1">Listen for dear honour's sake,</div> - <div class="i1">Goddess of the silver lake,</div> - <div class="i5">Listen and save!...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>By all the <i>Nymphs</i> that nightly dance</div> - <div>Upon thy streams with wily glance,</div> - <div>Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head</div> - <div>From thy coral-pav'n bed,</div> - <div>And bridle in thy headlong wave,</div> - <div>Till thou our summons answered have.</div> - <div class="i5">Listen and save!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"By the rushy-fringèd bank,</div> - <div>Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,</div> - <div class="i1">My sliding Chariot stayes,</div> - <div>Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheen</div> - <div>Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green</div> - <div class="i1">That in the channell strayes,</div> - <div>Whilst from off the waters fleet</div> - <div>Thus I set my printless feet</div> - <div>O're the Cowslips Velvet head,</div> - <div class="i1">That bends not as I tread,</div> - <div>Gentle swain at thy request</div> - <div class="i5">I am here."</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Milton</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_139"><a href="#note_139">139</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>NOW THE HUNGRY LION ROARS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Now the hungry Lyon rores,</div> - <div>And the Wolfe behowls the Moone:</div> - <div>Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,</div> - <div>All with weary taske fordone.</div> - <div>Now the wasted brands doe glow,</div> - <div>Whil'st the scritch-owle scritching loud,</div> - <div>Puts the wretch that lies in woe</div> - <div>In remembrance of a shrowd.</div> - <div>Now it is the time of night</div> - <div>That the graves, all gaping wide,</div> - <div>Every one lets forth his spright,</div> - <div>In the Church-way paths to glide.</div> - <div>And we Fairies, that do runne</div> - <div>By the triple <i>Hecate</i>'s teame,</div> - <div>From the presence of the Sunne,</div> - <div>Following darknesse like a dreame,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></div> - <div>Now are frollicke; not a Mouse</div> - <div>Shall disturbe this hallowed house.</div> - <div>I am sent with broome before,</div> - <div>To sweep the dust behinde the doore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Through the house give glimmering light,</div> - <div>By the dead and drowsie fier;</div> - <div>Everie Elfe and Fairie spright</div> - <div>Hop as light as bird from brier!..."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_140"><a href="#note_140">140</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FAIRIES FEAST</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div> ... <i>Awn.</i><span class="i1q">Who feasts tonight?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Some Elves.</i><span class="i1">Prince Olbin is truth-plight</span></div> - <div class="i53q">To Rosalind, daughter of the Faery Queen.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Other Elves.</i><span class="i1">She's a mannikin changeling; her name shows it.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Other Elves.</i><span class="i1">We have heard tell; that she as dream is fair.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Awn.</i><span class="i4">I've heard old Paigle say, fays gave for her</span></div> - <div class="i53q">To humans, in the cradle, Moonsheen bright.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Other Elves.</i><span class="i1">And Eglantine should wedded be this night,</span></div> - <div class="i6">To Ivytwine, in the laughing full moon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Moth.</i><span class="i4">I was there and saw it: on hoar roots,</span></div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">All gnarled and knotty, of an antique oak, ...</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">Crowned, some with plighted frets of violets sweet;</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">Other, with flower-cups many-hewed, had dight</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">Their locks of gold; the gentle faeries sate:</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">All in their watchet cloaks: were dainty mats</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">Spread under them, of dwarve-wives rushen work:</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">And primroses were strewed before their feet.</div> - <div class="i7 hangingindent">They at banquet sate, from dim of afternoon ...</div> - <div class="i12">(<i>Enter more elves running.</i>)</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Howt.</i><span class="i4">Whence come ye foothot?</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>One of the new-come Elves.</i><span class="i1">O Awn, O Howt!</span></div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">Not past a league from hence, lies close-cropped plot,</div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">Where purple milkworts blow, which conies haunt,</div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">Amidst the windy heath. We saw gnomes dance</div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">There; that not bigger been than harvest mice.</div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">Some of their heads were deckt, as seemed to us,</div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">With moonbeams bright: and those tonight hold feast:</div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">Though in them there none utterance is of speech.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent3"><i>Awn.</i><span class="i4h">Be those our mothers' cousins, dainty of grace:</span></div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">But seld now, in a moonlight, are they seen.</div> - <div class="i6h">They live not longer than do humble been.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent3"><i>Elves.</i><span class="i4">We saw of living herb, intressed with moss,</span></div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">Their small wrought cabins open on the grass.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent3"><i>Awn.</i><span class="i4h">Other, in gossamer bowers, wonne underclod.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent3"><i>Elves.</i><span class="i4">And each gnome held in hand a looking glass;</span></div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">Wherein he keeked, and kissed oft the Moons face.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Awn.</i><span class="i4h">Are they a faery offspring, without sex,</span></div> - <div class="i6h">Of the stars' rays.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Elves.</i><span class="i4">They'd wings on their flit feet;</span></div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">That seemed, in their oft shining, glancing drops</div> - <div class="i6h">Of rain, which beat on bosom of the grass:</div> - <div class="i6h">Wherein be some congealed as adamant.</div> - <div class="i7h hangingindent">We stooped to gaze (a neighbour tussock hidus,)</div> - <div class="i6h">On sight so fair: their beauty being such,</div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">That seemed us it all living thought did pass.</div> - <div class="i6h hangingindent">Yet were we spied! for looked down full upon us,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Disclosing then murk skies, Moons clear still face.</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">In that they shrunk back, and clapped tó their doors....</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Charles M. Doughty</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_135" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_135.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>SUMMER : GREENWOOD SOLITUDE.</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_141"><a href="#note_141">141</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE HUNT IS UP</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The hunt is up, the hunt is up,</div> - <div class="i1">And it is well nigh day;</div> - <div>And Harry our King is gone hunting</div> - <div class="i1">To bring his deer to bay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The east is bright with morning light,</div> - <div class="i1">And darkness it is fled;</div> - <div>And the merry horn wakes up the morn</div> - <div class="i1">To leave his idle bed.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Behold the skies with golden dyes</div> - <div class="i1">Are glowing all around;</div> - <div>The grass is green, and so are the treen</div> - <div class="i1">All laughing at the sound.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The horses snort to be at sport,</div> - <div class="i1">The dogs are running free,</div> - <div>The woods rejoice at the merry noise</div> - <div class="i1">Of <i>Hey tantara tee ree!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The sun is glad to see us clad</div> - <div class="i1">All in our lusty green,</div> - <div>And smiles in the sky as he riseth high</div> - <div class="i1">To see and to be seen.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Awake all men, I say again,</div> - <div class="i1">Be merry as you may;</div> - <div>For Harry our King is gone hunting,</div> - <div class="i1">To bring his deer to bay.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_142">142</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CHEERFUL HORN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The cheerful arn he blaws in the marn,</div> - <div class="i1">And we'll a-'untin' goo;</div> - <div>The cheerful arn he blaws in the marn,</div> - <div class="i1">And we'll a-'untin' goo,</div> - <div class="i2">And we'll a-'untin' goo,</div> - <div class="i2">And we'll a-'untin' goo ...</div> - <div class="i2">Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy,</div> - <div class="i3">And I'll zing Tally ho!</div> - <div class="i2">Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy,</div> - <div class="i3">And I'll zing Tally ho!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The vox jumps awer the 'edge zo 'igh,</div> - <div class="i1">An' the 'ouns all atter un goo;</div> - <div class="i2">Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy,</div> - <div class="i3">And I'll zing Tally ho!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then never despoise the soldjer lod,</div> - <div class="i1">Thof 'is ztaition be boot low;</div> - <div class="i2">Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy,</div> - <div class="i3">And I'll zing Tally ho!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then push about the coop, my bwoys,</div> - <div class="i1">An' we will wumwards goo,</div> - <div class="i2">Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy,</div> - <div class="i3">And I'll zing Tally ho!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If you áx me the zénze of this zóng vur to téll,</div> - <div class="i1">Or the reäzon vur to zhow;</div> - <div>Woy, I doän't exacaly knoo,</div> - <div class="i1">Woy, I doän't exacaly knoo:</div> - <div class="i2">Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy,</div> - <div class="i3">And I'll zing Tally ho!</div> - <div class="i2">Var all my vancy dwells upon Nancy,</div> - <div class="i3">And I'll zing Tally ho!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_143"><a href="#note_143">143</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>JOHN PEEL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay?</div> - <div>D'ye ken John Peel at the break of the day?</div> - <div>D'ye ken John Peel when he's far, far away,</div> - <div>With his hounds and his horn in the morning?</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas the sound of his horn called me from my bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And the cry of his hounds has me oft-times led,</div> - <div class="i1">For Peel's <i>View-hollo</i> would awaken the dead,</div> - <div class="i1">Or a fox from his lair in the morning.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>D'ye ken that bitch whose tongue is death?</div> - <div>D'ye ken her sons of peerless faith?</div> - <div>D'ye ken that a fox with his last breath</div> - <div>Cursed them all as he died in the morning?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yes, I ken John Peel and Ruby too</div> - <div>Ranter and Royal and Bellman as true;</div> - <div>From the drag to the chase, from the chase to a view,</div> - <div>From a view to the death in the morning.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And I've followed John Peel both often and far</div> - <div>O'er the rasper-fence and the gate and the bar,</div> - <div>From Low Denton Holme up to Scratchmere Scar,</div> - <div>When we vied for the brush in the morning.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then here's to John Peel with my heart and soul,</div> - <div>Come fill—fill to him another strong bowl:</div> - <div>And we'll follow John Peel through fair and through foul,</div> - <div>While we're waked by his horn in the morning.</div> - <div class="i1">'Twas the sound of his horn called me from my bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And the cry of his hounds has me oft-times led,</div> - <div class="i1">For Peel's <i>View-hollo</i> would awaken the dead</div> - <div class="i1">Or a fox from his lair in the morning.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">John Woodcock Graves</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_144">144</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SCHOOLBOY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I love to rise in a summer morn</div> - <div>When the birds sing on every tree;</div> - <div>The distant huntsman winds his horn,</div> - <div>And the skylark sings with me.</div> - <div>O! what sweet company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But to go to school in a summer morn,</div> - <div>O! it drives all joy away;</div> - <div>Under a cruel eye outworn,</div> - <div>The little ones spend the day</div> - <div>In sighing and dismay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ah! then at times I drooping sit,</div> - <div>And spend many an anxious hour,</div> - <div>Nor in my book can I take delight,</div> - <div>Nor sit in learning's bower,</div> - <div>Worn thro' with the dreary shower.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How can the bird that is born for joy</div> - <div>Sit in a cage and sing?</div> - <div>How can a child, when fears annoy,</div> - <div>But droop his tender wing,</div> - <div>And forget his youthful spring?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O! father and mother, if buds are nipped,</div> - <div>And blossoms blown away,</div> - <div>And if the tender plants are stripped</div> - <div>Of their joy in the springing day,</div> - <div>By sorrow and care's dismay,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How shall the summer arise in joy,</div> - <div>Or the summer fruits appear?</div> - <div>Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,</div> - <div>Or bless the mellowing year,</div> - <div>When the blasts of winter appear?</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_145">145</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A BOY'S SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where the pools are bright and deep,</div> - <div>Where the grey trout lies asleep,</div> - <div>Up the river and over the lea,</div> - <div>That's the way for Billy and me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where the blackbird sings the latest,</div> - <div>Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,</div> - <div>Where the nestlings chirp and flee,</div> - <div>That's the way for Billy and me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where the mowers mow the cleanest,</div> - <div>Where the hay lies thick and greenest,</div> - <div>There to track the homeward bee,</div> - <div>That's the way for Billy and me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where the hazel bank is steepest,</div> - <div>Where the shadow falls the deepest,</div> - <div>Where the clustering nuts fall free,</div> - <div>That's the way for Billy and me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Why the boys should drive away</div> - <div>Little sweet maidens from their play,</div> - <div>Or love to banter and fight so well,</div> - <div>That's the thing I never could tell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But this I know, I love to play</div> - <div>Through the meadow, among the hay;</div> - <div>Up the water and over the lea,</div> - <div>That's the way for Billy and me.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">James Hogg</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_146">146</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MARKET DAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Who'll walk the fields with us to town,</div> - <div>In an old coat and a faded gown?</div> - <div>We take our roots and country sweets,</div> - <div>Where high walls shade the steep old streets,</div> - <div>And golden bells and silver chimes</div> - <div>Ring up and down the sleepy times.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></div> - <div>The morning mountains smoke like fires;</div> - <div>The sun spreads out his shining wires;</div> - <div>The mower in the half-mown lezza</div> - <div>Sips his tea and takes his pleasure.</div> - <div>Along the lane slow waggons amble.</div> - <div>The sad-eyed calves awake and gamble;</div> - <div>The foal that lay so sorrowful</div> - <div>Is playing in the grasses cool.</div> - <div>By slanting ways, in slanting sun,</div> - <div>Through startled lapwings now we run</div> - <div>Along the pale green hazel-path,</div> - <div>Through April's lingering aftermath</div> - <div>Of lady's smock and lady's slipper;</div> - <div>We stay to watch a nesting dipper.</div> - <div>The rabbits eye us while we pass,</div> - <div>Out of the sorrel-crimson grass;</div> - <div>The blackbird sings, without a fear,</div> - <div>Where honeysuckle horns blow clear—</div> - <div>Cool ivory stained with true vermilion,</div> - <div>And here, within a silk pavilion,</div> - <div>Small caterpillars lie at ease.</div> - <div>The endless shadows of the trees</div> - <div>Are painted purple and cobalt;</div> - <div>Grandiloquent, the rook-files halt,</div> - <div>Each one aware of you and me,</div> - <div>And full of conscious dignity.</div> - <div>Our shoes are golden as we pass</div> - <div>With pollen from the pansied grass.</div> - <div>Beneath an elder—set anew</div> - <div>With large clean plates to catch the dew—</div> - <div>On fine white cheese and bread we dine.</div> - <div>The clear brook-water tastes like wine.</div> - <div>If all folk lived with labour sweet</div> - <div>Of their own busy hands and feet,</div> - <div>Such marketing, it seems to me,</div> - <div>Would make an end of poverty.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Mary Webb</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_147">147</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Under the greenewood tree,</div> - <div class="i2">Who loves to lye with me,</div> - <div class="i2">And turne his merrie Note</div> - <div class="i2">Unto the sweet Bird's throte:</div> - <div>Come hither, come hither, come hither,</div> - <div class="i4">Heere shall he see no enemie</div> - <div>But Winter and rough Weather.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Who doth ambition shunne</div> - <div class="i2">And loves to live i' the Sunne,</div> - <div class="i2">Seeking the food he eates</div> - <div class="i2">And pleased with what he gets:</div> - <div>Come hither, come hither, come hither,</div> - <div class="i4">Here shall he see no enemie</div> - <div>But Winter and rough Weather.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_148"><a href="#note_148">148</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IN SUMMER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In somer when the shawes be sheyne,<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a></div> - <div class="i1">And leves be large and long,</div> - <div>Hit<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> is full merry in feyre foreste</div> - <div class="i1">To here the foulys<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> song.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To se the dere draw to the dale</div> - <div class="i1">And leve the hillės hee,</div> - <div>And shadow him in the levės grene</div> - <div class="i1">Under the green-wode tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hit befell on Whitsontide</div> - <div class="i1">Early in a May mornyng,</div> - <div>The Sonne up fairė gan shyne,</div> - <div class="i1">And the briddis mery gan syng.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"This is a mery mornyng," said Litulle Johne,</div> - <div class="i1">"By Hym that dyed on tree;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></div> - <div>A more mery man than I am one</div> - <div class="i1">Lyves not in Christiantė.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,"</div> - <div class="i1">Litulle Johne can say,</div> - <div>"And thank hit is a fulle fayre tyme</div> - <div class="i1">In a mornynge of May."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_149"><a href="#note_149">149</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LUBBER BREEZE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The four sails of the mill</div> - <div>Like stocks stand still;</div> - <div>Their lantern-length is white</div> - <div>On blue more bright.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Unruffled is the mead,</div> - <div>Where lambkins feed</div> - <div>And sheep and cattle browse</div> - <div>And donkeys drowse.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Never the least breeze will</div> - <div>The wet thumb chill</div> - <div>That the anxious miller lifts,</div> - <div>Till the vane shifts.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The breeze in the great flour-bin</div> - <div>Is snug tucked in;</div> - <div>The lubber, while rats thieve,</div> - <div>Laughs in his sleeve.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">T. Sturge Moore</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_150"><a href="#note_150">150</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A SUMMER'S DAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The ample heaven of fabrik sure,</div> - <div class="i1">In cleannes dois surpas</div> - <div>The chrystall and the silver pure,</div> - <div class="i1">Or clearest poleist<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> glas.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The shadow of the earth anon</div> - <div class="i1">Removes and drawės by,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></div> - <div>Sine in the east, when it is gon,</div> - <div class="i1">Appears a clearer sky.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Quhilk sune<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> perceives the little larks,</div> - <div class="i1">The lapwing and the snyp,</div> - <div>And tune their sangs, like Nature's clarks</div> - <div class="i1">Our medow, mure and stryp.<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The time sa tranquil is and still,</div> - <div class="i1">That na where sall ye find,</div> - <div>Saife on ane high and barren hill,</div> - <div class="i1">Ane aire of peeping wind.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All trees and simples<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> great and small,</div> - <div class="i1">That balmie leife do beir,</div> - <div>Nor thay were painted on a wall,</div> - <div class="i1">Na mair they move or steir<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a>...."</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Alexander Hume</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_151">151</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LEISURE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What is this life if, full of care,</div> - <div>We have no time to stand and stare?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No time to stand beneath the boughs</div> - <div>And stare as long as sheep or cows.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No time to see, when woods we pass,</div> - <div>Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No time to see, in broad daylight,</div> - <div>Streams full of stars, like skies at night.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No time to turn at Beauty's glance,</div> - <div>And watch her feet, how they can dance.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No time to wait till her mouth can</div> - <div>Enrich that smile her eyes began.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A poor life this if, full of care,</div> - <div>We have no time to stand and stare.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William H. Davies</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_152">152</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE HAPPY COUNTRYMAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Who can live in heart so glad</div> - <div>As the merry country lad?</div> - <div>Who upon a fair green balk<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a></div> - <div>May at pleasure sit and walk,</div> - <div>And amid the azure skies</div> - <div>See the morning sun arise,—</div> - <div>While he hears in every spring</div> - <div>How the birds do chirp and sing:</div> - <div>Or before the hounds in cry</div> - <div>See the hare go stealing by:</div> - <div>Or along the shallow brook,</div> - <div>Angling with a baited hook,</div> - <div>See the fishes leap and play</div> - <div>In a blessèd sunny day:</div> - <div>Or to hear the partridge call,</div> - <div>Till she have her covey all:</div> - <div>Or to see the subtle fox,</div> - <div>How the villain plies the box:</div> - <div>After feeding on his prey,</div> - <div>How he closely sneaks away,</div> - <div>Through the hedge and down the furrow</div> - <div>Till he gets into his burrow:</div> - <div>Then the bee to gather honey,</div> - <div>And the little black-haired coney,</div> - <div>On a bank for sunny place,</div> - <div>With her forefeet wash her face:</div> - <div>Are not these, with thousands moe<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a></div> - <div>Than the courts of kings do know,</div> - <div>The true pleasing spirit's sights</div> - <div>That may breed true love's delights?...</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Nicholas Breton</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_153"><a href="#note_153">153</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"O FOR A BOOKE"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O for a Booke and a shadie nooke,</div> - <div class="i1">eyther in-a-doore or out;</div> - <div>With the grene leaves whispering overhede,</div> - <div class="i1">or the Streete cryes all about.</div> - <div>Where I maie Reade all at my ease,</div> - <div class="i1">both of the Newe and Olde;</div> - <div>For a jollie goode Booke whereon to looke,</div> - <div class="i1">is better to me than Golde.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_154">154</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GREEN BROOM</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was an old man lived out in the wood,</div> - <div class="i1">His trade was a-cutting of Broom, green Broom;</div> - <div>He had but one son without thrift, without good,</div> - <div class="i1">Who lay in his bed till 'twas noon bright noon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The old man awoke, one morning and spoke,</div> - <div class="i1">He swore he would fire the room, that room,</div> - <div>If his John would not rise and open his eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">And away to the wood to cut Broom, green Broom.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So Johnny arose, and he slipped on his clothes,</div> - <div class="i1">And away to the wood to cut Broom, green Broom,</div> - <div>He sharpened his knives, for once he contrives</div> - <div class="i1">To cut a great bundle of Broom, green Broom.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When Johnny passed under a lady's fine house,</div> - <div class="i1">Passed under a lady's fine room, fine room,</div> - <div>She called to her maid, "Go fetch me," she said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Go fetch me the boy that sells Broom, green Broom."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When Johnny came in to the lady's fine house,</div> - <div class="i1">And stood in the lady's fine room, fine room;</div> - <div>"Young Johnny," she said, "Will you give up your trade,</div> - <div class="i1">And marry a lady in bloom, full bloom?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Johnny gave his consent, and to church they both went,</div> - <div class="i1">And he wedded the lady in bloom, full bloom,</div> - <div>At market and fair, all folks do declare,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">There is none like the Boy that sold Broom, green Broom.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_155"><a href="#note_155">155</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE TWELVE OXEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have twelfė oxen that be faire and brown,</div> - <div>And they go a grasing down by the town.</div> - <div class="i1">With hey! with how! with hoy!</div> - <div>Saweste not you mine oxen, you litill prety boy?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have twelfė oxen, and they be faire and white,</div> - <div>And they go a grasing down by the dyke.</div> - <div class="i1">With hey! with how! with hoy!</div> - <div>Saweste not you mine oxen, you litill prety boy?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have twelfė oxen, and they be faire and blak,</div> - <div>And they go a grasing down by the lake.</div> - <div class="i1">With hey! with how! with hoy!</div> - <div>Saweste not you mine oxen, you litill prety boy?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have twelfė oxen, and they be faire and rede,</div> - <div>And they go a grasing down by the mede</div> - <div class="i1">With hey! with how! with hoy!</div> - <div>Saweste not you mine oxen, you litill prety boy?</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_156"><a href="#note_156">156</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LAVENDER'S BLUE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,</div> - <div>When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen</div> - <div>Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?</div> - <div>'Twas mine one heart, dilly dilly, that told me so.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Call up your men, dilly dilly, set them to work,</div> - <div>Some with a rake, dilly dilly, some with a fork,</div> - <div>Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to thresh corn,</div> - <div>Whilst you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm....</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_157">157</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE GARDEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... What wondrous life is this I lead!</div> - <div>Ripe apples drop about my head;</div> - <div>The luscious clusters of the vine</div> - <div>Upon my mouth do crush their wine;</div> - <div>The nectarine and curious peach</div> - <div>Into my hands themselves do reach;</div> - <div>Stumbling on melons, as I pass,</div> - <div>Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,</div> - <div>Withdraws into its happiness;</div> - <div>The mind, that ocean where each kind</div> - <div>Does straight its own resemblance find;</div> - <div>Yet it creates, transcending these,</div> - <div>Far other worlds and other seas,</div> - <div>Annihilating all that's made</div> - <div>To a green thought in a green shade.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here at the fountain's sliding foot</div> - <div>Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root,</div> - <div>Casting the body's vest aside</div> - <div>My soul into the boughs does glide:</div> - <div>There, like a bird, it sits and sings,</div> - <div>Then whets<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> and claps its silver wings,</div> - <div>And, till prepared for longer flight,</div> - <div>Waves in its plumes the various light....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Such was the happy Garden-state</div> - <div>While man there walked without a mate:</div> - <div>After a place so pure and sweet,</div> - <div>What other help could yet be meet!</div> - <div>But 'twas beyond a mortal's share</div> - <div>To wander solitary there:</div> - <div>Two paradises 'twere in one,</div> - <div>To live in Paradise alone....</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Andrew Marvell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_158">158</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CHERRY-RIPE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cherrie Ripe, Ripe, Ripe, I cry,</div> - <div>Full and faire ones; come and buy:</div> - <div>If so be you ask me where</div> - <div>They doe grow? I answer, There,</div> - <div>Where my <i>Julia's</i> lips doe smile;</div> - <div>There's the Land, or Cherrie Ile:</div> - <div>Whose Plantations fully show</div> - <div>All the yeare, where Cherries grow.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Robert Herrick</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_159"><a href="#note_159">159</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CHERRY-RIPE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">There is a Garden in her face</div> - <div>Where Roses and white Lillies grow;</div> - <div class="i1">A heav'nly paradice is that place,</div> - <div>Wherein all pleasant fruits doe flow.</div> - <div class="i1">There Cherries grow, which none may buy,</div> - <div class="i1">Till <i>Cherry Ripe</i> themselves doe cry.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Those Cherries fayrely doe enclose</div> - <div>Of Orient Pearle a double row,</div> - <div class="i1">Which when her lovely laughter showes,</div> - <div>They look like Rose-buds filled with snow.</div> - <div class="i1">Yet them nor Peere nor Prince can buy,</div> - <div class="i1">Till <i>Cherry Ripe</i> themselves doe cry.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Her Eyes like Angels watch them still;</div> - <div>Her Browes like bended bowes doe stand,</div> - <div class="i1">Threat'ning with piercing frownes to kill</div> - <div>All that approach with eye or hand</div> - <div class="i1">These sacred Cherries to come nigh,</div> - <div class="i1">Till <i>Cherry Ripe</i> themselves doe cry.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Campion</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_160"><a href="#note_160">160</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What is there hid in the heart of a rose,</div> - <div class="i4">Mother-mine?</div> - <div>Ah, who knows, who knows, who knows?</div> - <div>A Man that died on a lonely hill</div> - <div>May tell you, perhaps, but none other will,</div> - <div class="i4">Little child.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What does it take to make a rose,</div> - <div class="i4">Mother-mine?</div> - <div>The God that died to make it knows</div> - <div>It takes the world's eternal wars,</div> - <div>It takes the moon and all the stars,</div> - <div>It takes the might of heaven and hell</div> - <div>And the everlasting Love as well,</div> - <div class="i4">Little child.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Alfred Noyes</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_161">161</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MYSTERY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He came and took me by the hand</div> - <div class="i1">Up to a red rose tree,</div> - <div>He kept His meaning to Himself</div> - <div class="i1">But gave a rose to me.</div> - <div>I did not pray Him to lay bare</div> - <div class="i1">The mystery to me,</div> - <div>Enough the rose was Heaven to smell,</div> - <div class="i1">And His own face to see.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Ralph Hodgson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_162">162</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE ROSE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A Rose, as fair as ever saw the North,</div> - <div>Grew in a little garden all alone;</div> - <div>A sweeter flower did Nature ne'er put forth,</div> - <div>Nor fairer garden yet was never known:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The maidens danced about it morn and noon,</div> - <div>And learnèd bards of it their ditties made;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></div> - <div>The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon</div> - <div>Watered the root and kissed her pretty shade.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But well-a-day!—the gardener careless grew;</div> - <div>The maids and fairies both were kept away,</div> - <div>And in a drought the caterpillars threw</div> - <div>Themselves upon the bud and every spray.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies,</div> - <div>The fairest blossom of the garden dies.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Browne</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_163"><a href="#note_163">163</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ask me no more, where Jove bestows</div> - <div>When June is past the fading rose;</div> - <div>For in your beauty's orient deep</div> - <div>These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ask me no more, whither do stray</div> - <div>The golden atoms of the day;</div> - <div>For in pure love heaven did prepare</div> - <div>Those powders to enrich your hair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ask me no more, whither doth haste</div> - <div>The nightingale when May is past;</div> - <div>For in your sweet dividing throat</div> - <div>She winters and keeps warm her note.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ask me no more, where those stars light<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></div> - <div>That downwards fall in dead of night;</div> - <div>For in your eyes they sit and there</div> - <div>Fixèd become as in their sphere.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ask me no more if east or west</div> - <div>The Phœnix builds her spicy nest;</div> - <div>For unto you at last she flies,</div> - <div>And in your fragrant bosom dies.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Thomas Carew</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_164"><a href="#note_164">164</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BOWER OF BLISS</h4> -<p class="center p-left">(<i>The "daintie Paradise of the Enchauntresse" whereinto the Palmer -brought Sir Guyon.</i>)</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... And in the midst of all, a fountaine stood,</div> - <div class="i1">Of richest substaunce that on earth might bee,</div> - <div class="i1">So pure and shiny, that the silver flood</div> - <div class="i1">Through every channell running, one might see;</div> - <div class="i1">Most goodly it with pure imageree</div> - <div class="i1">Was over-wrought, and shapes of naked boyes,</div> - <div class="i1">Of which some seemed with lively jollitee</div> - <div class="i1">To fly about, playing their wanton toyes,</div> - <div>Whiles others did them selves embay in liquid joyes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And over all, of purest gold was spred</div> - <div class="i1">A trayle of yvie in his native hew:</div> - <div class="i1">For the rich mettall was so colouréd,</div> - <div class="i1">That wight, who did not well-advised it vew,</div> - <div class="i1">Would surely deeme it to be yvie treu.</div> - <div class="i1">Lowe his lascivious arms adown did creepe,</div> - <div class="i1">That themselves dipping in the silver dew,</div> - <div class="i1">Their fleecy flowres they tenderly did steepe,</div> - <div>Which drops of Cristall seemd for wantonnes to weepe.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Infinit streames continually did well</div> - <div class="i1">Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see,</div> - <div class="i1">The which into an ample laver fell,</div> - <div class="i1">And shortly grew to so great quantitie,</div> - <div class="i1">That like a little lake it seemed to bee;</div> - <div class="i1">Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight,</div> - <div class="i1">That through the waves one might the bottom see,</div> - <div class="i1">All paved beneath with Jaspar shining bright</div> - <div>That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And all the margent round about was set</div> - <div class="i1">With shady lawrell-trees, thence to defend</div> - <div class="i1">The sunny beames, which on the billows bet,</div> - <div class="i1">And those which therein bathèd, mote<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> offend....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound,</div> - <div class="i1">Of all that mote delight a daintie eare,</div> - <div class="i1">Such as att once might not on living ground,</div> - <div class="i1">Save in this Paradise, be heard elswhere:</div> - <div class="i1">Right hard it was, for wight, which did it heare,</div> - <div class="i1">To read, what manner musicke that mote bee:</div> - <div class="i1">For all that pleasing is to living care,</div> - <div class="i1">Was there consorted in one harmonie,</div> - <div>Birdes, voyces, instruments, windes, waters, all agree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The joyous birdes, shrouded in cheareful shade,</div> - <div class="i1">Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet;</div> - <div class="i1">Th' Angelicall soft trembling voyces made</div> - <div class="i1">To th' instruments divine respondence meet:</div> - <div class="i1">The silver sounding instruments did meet</div> - <div class="i1">With the base murmure of the waters fall:</div> - <div class="i1">The waters fall with difference discreet,</div> - <div class="i1">Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call:</div> - <div>The gentle warbling wind low answerèd to all.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Edmund Spenser</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_165">165</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SMALL FOUNTAINS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Jarring the air with rumour cool,</div> - <div>Small fountains played into a pool</div> - <div>With sound as soft as the barley's hiss</div> - <div>When its beard just sprouting is;</div> - <div>Whence a young stream, that trod on moss,</div> - <div>Prettily rimpled the court across.</div> - <div>And in the pool's clear idleness,</div> - <div>Moving like dreams through happiness,</div> - <div>Shoals of small bright fishes were;</div> - <div>In and out weed-thickets bent</div> - <div>Perch and carp, and sauntering went</div> - <div>With mounching jaws and eyes a-stare;</div> - <div>Or on a lotus leaf would crawl,</div> - <div>A brinded loach to bask and sprawl,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></div> - <div>Tasting the warm sun ere it dipt</div> - <div>Into the water; but quick as fear</div> - <div>Back his shining brown head slipt</div> - <div>To crouch on the gravel of his lair,</div> - <div>Where the cooled sunbeams broke in wrack,</div> - <div>Spilt shattered gold about his back....</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Lascelles Abercrombie</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_166">166</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE INVITATION, TO JANE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Best and brightest, come away!</div> - <div>Fairer far than this fair Day,</div> - <div>Which, like thee to those in sorrow,</div> - <div>Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow</div> - <div>To the rough Year just awake</div> - <div>In its cradle on the brake.</div> - <div>The brightest hour of unborn Spring,</div> - <div>Through the winter wandering,</div> - <div>Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn</div> - <div>To hoar February born;</div> - <div>Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth,</div> - <div>It kissed the forehead of the Earth,</div> - <div>And smiled upon the silent sea,</div> - <div>And bade the frozen streams be free.</div> - <div>And waked to music all their fountains,</div> - <div>And breathed upon the frozen mountains,</div> - <div>And like a prophetess of May</div> - <div>Strewed flowers upon the barren way,</div> - <div>Making the wintry world appear</div> - <div>Like one on whom thou smilest, dear....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Radiant sister of the Day,</div> - <div>Awake! arise! and come away!</div> - <div>To the wild woods and the plains,</div> - <div>And the pools where winter rains</div> - <div>Image all their roof of leaves,</div> - <div>Where the pine its garland weaves</div> - <div>Of sapless green and ivy dun</div> - <div>Round stems that never kiss the sun;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></div> - <div>Where the lawns and pastures be,</div> - <div>And the sand-hills of the sea;—</div> - <div>Where the melting hoar-frost wets</div> - <div>The daisy-star that never sets,</div> - <div>The wind-flowers, and violets,</div> - <div>Which yet join not scent to hue,</div> - <div>Crown the pale year weak and new;</div> - <div>When the night is left behind</div> - <div>In the deep east, dun and blind,</div> - <div>And the blue noon is over us,</div> - <div>And the multitudinous</div> - <div>Billows murmur at our feet,</div> - <div>Where the earth and ocean meet,</div> - <div>And all things seem only one</div> - <div>In the universal sun.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_167">167</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE RECOLLECTION</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div> ... We wandered to the Pine Forest</div> - <div class="i1">That skirts the Ocean's foam;</div> - <div>The lightest wind was in its nest,</div> - <div class="i1">The tempest in its home.</div> - <div>The whispering waves were half asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">The clouds were gone to play,</div> - <div> And on the bosom of the deep</div> - <div class="i1">The smile of Heaven lay;</div> - <div>It seemed as if the hour were one</div> - <div class="i1">Sent from beyond the skies,</div> - <div>Which scattered from above the sun</div> - <div class="i1">A light of Paradise!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We paused amid the pines that stood</div> - <div class="i1">The giants of the waste,</div> - <div>Tortured by storms to shapes as rude</div> - <div class="i1">As serpents interlaced,</div> - <div>And soothed by every azure breath,</div> - <div class="i1">That under heaven is blown,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></div> - <div>To harmonies and hues beneath,</div> - <div class="i1">As tender as its own:</div> - <div>Now all the tree-tops lay asleep</div> - <div class="i1">Like green waves on the sea,</div> - <div>As still as in the silent deep</div> - <div class="i1">The ocean woods may be.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How calm it was!—The silence there</div> - <div class="i1">By such a chain was bound</div> - <div>That even the busy woodpecker</div> - <div class="i1">Made stiller with her sound</div> - <div>The inviolable quietness;</div> - <div class="i1">The breath of peace we drew</div> - <div>With its soft motion made not less</div> - <div class="i1">The calm that round us grew.</div> - <div>There seemed, from the remotest seat</div> - <div class="i1">Of the white mountain waste</div> - <div>To the soft flower beneath our feet,</div> - <div class="i1">A magic circle traced,—</div> - <div>A spirit interfused around,</div> - <div class="i1">A thrilling, silent life—</div> - <div>To momentary peace it bound</div> - <div class="i1">Our mortal nature's strife;—</div> - <div>And still I felt the centre of</div> - <div class="i1">The magic circle there</div> - <div>Was one fair form that filled with love</div> - <div class="i1">The lifeless atmosphere....</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_168">168</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE GOAT PATHS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The crooked paths go every way</div> - <div class="i1">Upon the hill—they wind about</div> - <div class="i1">Through the heather in and out</div> - <div>Of the quiet sunniness.</div> - <div>And there the goats, day after day,</div> - <div class="i1">Stray in sunny quietness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></div> - <div>Cropping here and cropping there,</div> - <div class="i1">As they pause and turn and pass,</div> - <div>Now a bit of heather spray,</div> - <div class="i1">Now a mouthful of the grass.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In the deeper sunniness,</div> - <div class="i1">In the place where nothing stirs,</div> - <div>Quietly in quietness,</div> - <div class="i1">In the quiet of the furze,</div> - <div>For a time they come and lie</div> - <div>Staring on the roving sky.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If you approach they run away,</div> - <div class="i1">They leap and stare, away they bound,</div> - <div class="i1">With a sudden angry sound,</div> - <div>To the sunny quietude;</div> - <div class="i1">Crouching down where nothing stirs</div> - <div class="i1">In the silence of the furze,</div> - <div>Couching down again to brood</div> - <div>In the sunny solitude.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If I were as wise as they,</div> - <div class="i1">I would stray apart and brood,</div> - <div>I would beat a hidden way</div> - <div>Through the quiet heather spray</div> - <div class="i1">To a sunny solitude;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And should you come I'd run away,</div> - <div class="i1">I would make an angry sound,</div> - <div class="i1">I would stare and turn and bound</div> - <div>To the deeper quietude,</div> - <div class="i1">To the place where nothing stirs</div> - <div class="i1">In the silence of the furze.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In that airy quietness</div> - <div class="i1">I would think as long as they;</div> - <div>Through the quiet sunniness</div> - <div class="i1">I would stray away to brood</div> - <div>By a hidden beaten way</div> - <div class="i1">In a sunny solitude,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></div> - <div>I would think until I found</div> - <div class="i1">Something I can never find,</div> - <div>Something lying on the ground,</div> - <div class="i1">In the bottom of my mind.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">James Stephens</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_169">169</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UNDER A WILTSHIRE APPLE TREE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Some folks as can afford,</div> - <div>So I've heard say,</div> - <div>Set up a sort of cross</div> - <div>Right in the garden way</div> - <div>To mind 'em of the Lord.</div> - <div>But I, when I do see</div> - <div>Thik<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> apple tree</div> - <div>An' stoopin' limb</div> - <div>All spread wi' moss,</div> - <div>I think of Him</div> - <div>And how He talks wi' me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I think of God</div> - <div>And how He trod</div> - <div>That garden long ago;</div> - <div>He walked, I reckon, to and fro</div> - <div>And then sat down</div> - <div>Upon the groun'</div> - <div>Or some low limb</div> - <div>What suited Him,</div> - <div>Such as you see</div> - <div>On many a tree,</div> - <div>And on thik very one</div> - <div>Where I at set o' sun</div> - <div>Do sit and talk wi' He.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And, mornings, too, I rise and come</div> - <div>An' sit down where the branch be low;</div> - <div>A bird do sing, a bee do hum,</div> - <div>The flowers in the border blow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></div> - <div>And all my heart's so glad and clear</div> - <div>As pools be when the sun do peer,</div> - <div>As pools a-laughing in the light</div> - <div>When mornin' air is swep' an' bright,</div> - <div>As pools what got all Heaven in sight,</div> - <div>So's my heart's cheer</div> - <div>When He be near.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He never pushed the garden door,</div> - <div>He left no footmark on the floor;</div> - <div>I never heard 'Un stir nor tread</div> - <div>And yet His Hand do bless my head,</div> - <div>And when 'tis time for work to start</div> - <div>I takes Him with me in my heart.</div> - <div>And when I die, pray God I see</div> - <div>At very last thik apple tree</div> - <div>An' stoopin' limb,</div> - <div>And think of Him</div> - <div>And all He been to me.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Anna Bunston de Bary</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_170"><a href="#note_170">170</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WONDER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">How like an Angel came I down!</div> - <div class="i2">How bright were all things here!</div> - <div>When first among His works I did appear</div> - <div class="i1">O how their Glory me did crown!</div> - <div>The world resembled His <span class="smcap">Eternity</span>,</div> - <div class="i2">In which my soul did walk;</div> - <div class="i1">And every thing that I did see</div> - <div class="i4">Did with me talk.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">The skies in their magnificence,</div> - <div class="i2">The lively, lovely air,</div> - <div>Oh how divine, how soft, how sweet, how fair!</div> - <div class="i1">The stars did entertain my sense,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></div> - <div>And all the works of God, so bright and pure,</div> - <div class="i2">So rich and great did seem,</div> - <div class="i1">As if they ever must endure</div> - <div class="i4">In my esteem....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">The streets were paved with golden stones,</div> - <div class="i2">The boys and girls were mine,</div> - <div>Oh how did all their lovely faces shine!</div> - <div class="i1">The sons of men were holy ones,</div> - <div>In joy and beauty they appeared to me,</div> - <div class="i2">And every thing which here I found,</div> - <div class="i1">While like an Angel I did see,</div> - <div class="i4">Adorned the ground.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Rich diamond and pearl and gold</div> - <div class="i2">In every place was seen;</div> - <div>Rare splendours, yellow, blue, red, white and green,</div> - <div class="i1">Mine eyes did everywhere behold.</div> - <div>Great wonders clothed with glory did appear,</div> - <div class="i2">Amazement was my bliss,</div> - <div class="i1">That and my wealth was everywhere;</div> - <div class="i4">No joy to this!...</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Thomas Traherne</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_171">171</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How sweet I roamed from field to field</div> - <div>And tasted all the summer's pride,</div> - <div>Till I the Prince of Love beheld</div> - <div>Who in the sunny beams did glide!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He showed me lilies for my hair,</div> - <div>And blushing roses for my brow;</div> - <div>He led me through his gardens fair</div> - <div>Where all his golden pleasures grow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With sweet May dews my wings were wet,</div> - <div>And Phoebus fired my vocal rage;</div> - <div>He caught me in his silken net,</div> - <div>And shut me in his golden cage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He loves to sit and hear me sing,</div> - <div>Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;</div> - <div>Then stretches out my golden wing,</div> - <div>And mocks my loss of liberty.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_172"><a href="#note_172">172</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BOOK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Of this fair volume which we World do name</div> - <div>If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care,</div> - <div>Of Him who it corrects and did it frame,</div> - <div>We clear might read the art and wisdom rare:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Find out His power which wildest powers doth tame,</div> - <div>His providence extending everywhere,</div> - <div>His justice which proud rebels doth not spare,</div> - <div>In every page, no period of the same.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But silly we, like foolish children, rest</div> - <div>Well pleased with coloured vellum, leaves of gold,</div> - <div>Fair dangling ribbands, leaving what is best,</div> - <div>On the great Writer's sense ne'er taking hold;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Or, if by chance we stay our minds on aught,</div> - <div>It is some picture on the margin wrought.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Drummond</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_173">173</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TETHY'S FESTIVAL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Are they shadows that we see?</div> - <div>And can shadows pleasure give?</div> - <div class="i2">Pleasures only shadow's be,</div> - <div class="i2">Cast by bodies we conceive;</div> - <div class="i2">And are made the things we deem</div> - <div class="i2">In those figures which they seem.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But those pleasures vanish fast,</div> - <div>Which by shadow's are exprest;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></div> - <div class="i2">Pleasures are not, if they last;</div> - <div class="i2">In their passing is their best:</div> - <div class="i2">Glory is more bright and gay</div> - <div class="i2">In a flash, and so away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Feed apace then, greedy eyes,</div> - <div>On the wonder you behold:</div> - <div class="i2">Take it sudden, as it flies,</div> - <div class="i2">Though you take it not to hold.</div> - <div class="i2">When your eyes have done their part</div> - <div class="i2">Thought must length'n it in the heart.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Samuel Daniel</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_165" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_165.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<h2>WAR</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_174">174</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A WAR SONG TO ENGLISHMEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Prepare, prepare the iron helm of War,</div> - <div>Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;</div> - <div>The Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,</div> - <div>And casts them out upon the darkened earth!</div> - <div class="i12">Prepare, prepare!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Prepare your hearts for Death's cold hand! prepare</div> - <div>Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth;</div> - <div>Prepare your arms for glorious victory;</div> - <div>Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God!</div> - <div class="i12">Prepare, prepare!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks 'tis mine!</div> - <div>Why sinks my heart, why faltereth my tongue?</div> - <div>Had I three lives, I'd die in such a cause,</div> - <div>And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.</div> - <div class="i12">Prepare, prepare!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The arrows of Almighty God are drawn!</div> - <div>Angels of Death stand in the lowering heavens!</div> - <div>Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light,</div> - <div>And walk together on the clouds of heaven!</div> - <div class="i12">Prepare, prepare!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven's cause;</div> - <div>Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause:</div> - <div>Prepare to meet our fathers in the sky:</div> - <div>Prepare, O troops, that are to fall to-day!</div> - <div class="i12">Prepare, prepare!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice;</div> - <div>The Norman William, and the learned Clerk,</div> - <div>And Lion Heart, and black-browed Edward, with</div> - <div>His loyal Queen, shall rise, and welcome us!</div> - <div class="i12">Prepare, prepare!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_175"><a href="#note_175">175</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FOR SOLDIERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Ye buds of Brutus' land, courageous youths, now play your parts;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Unto your tackle stand, abide the brunt with valiant hearts.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">For news is carried to and fro, that we must forth to warfare go:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Men muster now in every place, and soldiers are prest forth apace.</div> - <div class="i7">Faint not, spend blood,</div> - <div class="i5">To do your Queen and country good;</div> - <div class="i7">Fair words, good pay,</div> - <div class="i5">Will make men cast all care away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">The time of war is come, prepare your corslet, spear and shield;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Methinks I hear the drum strike doleful marches to the field;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Tantarâ, tantarâ, ye trumpets sound, which makes our hearts with joy abound.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The roaring guns are heard afar, and everything denounceth war.</div> - <div class="i7">Serve God; stand stout;</div> - <div class="i5">Bold courage brings this gear about.</div> - <div class="i7">Fear not; fate run<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a>;</div> - <div class="i5">Faint heart fair lady never won.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Ye curious<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> carpet-knights, that spend the time in sport and play;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Abroad and see new sights, your country's cause calls you away;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></div> - <div class="hangingindent">Do not to make your ladies' game, bring blemish to your worthy name.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Away to field and win renown, with courage beat your enemies down.</div> - <div class="i7">Stout hearts gain praise,</div> - <div class="i5">When dastards sail in Slander's seas;</div> - <div class="i7">Hap what hap shall,</div> - <div class="i5">We sure shall die but once for all.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Alarm methinks they cry, Be packing, mates, begone with speed;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Our foes are very nigh; shame have that man that shrinks at need!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Unto it boldly let us stand, God will give Right the upper hand.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Our cause is good, we need not doubt, in sign of coming give a shout.</div> - <div class="i7">March forth, be strong,</div> - <div class="i5">Good hap will come ere it be long.</div> - <div class="i7">Shrink not, fight well,</div> - <div class="i5">For lusty lads must bear the bell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">All you that will shun evil, must dwell in warfare every day;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The world, the flesh, and devil, always do seek our soul's decay;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Strive with these foes with all your might, so shall you fight a worthy fight.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That conquest doth deserve most praise, where vice do yield to virtue's ways.</div> - <div class="i7">Beat down foul sin,</div> - <div class="i5">A worthy crown then shall ye win;</div> - <div class="i7">If ye live well,</div> - <div class="i5">In heaven with Christ our souls shall dwell.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Humphrey Gifford</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_176"><a href="#note_176">176</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;</div> - <div class="i6 hangingindent">His truth is marching on.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;</div> - <div class="i6 hangingindent">His day is marching on.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,</div> - <div class="i6 hangingindent">Since God is marching on."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!</div> - <div class="i6 hangingindent">Our God is marching on.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,</div> - <div class="i6 hangingindent">While God is marching on.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Julia Ward Howe</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_177"><a href="#note_177">177</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"I HEARD A SOLDIER"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I heard a soldier sing some trifle</div> - <div class="i1">Out in the sun-dried veldt alone:</div> - <div>He lay and cleaned his grimy rifle</div> - <div class="i1">Idly, behind a stone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"If after death, love, comes a waking,</div> - <div class="i1">And in their camp so dark and still</div> - <div>The men of dust hear bugles, breaking</div> - <div class="i1">Their halt upon the hill,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"To me the slow, the silver pealing</div> - <div class="i1">That then the last high trumpet pours</div> - <div>Shall softer than the dawn come stealing,</div> - <div class="i1">For, with its call, comes yours!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What grief of love had he to stifle,</div> - <div class="i1">Basking so idly by his stone,</div> - <div>That grimy soldier with his rifle</div> - <div class="i1">Out in the veldt, alone?</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Herbert Trench</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_178">178</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE DUG-OUT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled,</div> - <div>And one arm bent across your sullen cold</div> - <div>Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you,</div> - <div>Deep-shadowed from the candle's guttering gold;</div> - <div>And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder;</div> - <div>Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head ...</div> - <div>You are too young to fall asleep for ever;</div> - <div>And when you sleep you remind me of the dead.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Siegfried Sassoon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_179">179</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>NOCTURNE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Be thou at peace this night</div> - <div class="i1">Wherever be thy bed,</div> - <div>Thy slumbering be light,</div> - <div class="i1">The fearful dreams be dead</div> - <div class="i1">Within thy lovely head;</div> - <div>God keep thee in His sight.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No hint of love molest</div> - <div class="i1">Thy quiet mind again;</div> - <div>Night fold thee to her breast</div> - <div class="i1">And hush thy crying pain;</div> - <div class="i1">Let memory in vain</div> - <div>Conspire against thy rest.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So may thy thoughts be lost</div> - <div class="i1">In the full hush of sleep.</div> - <div>Lest any sight accost</div> - <div class="i1">Thine eyes to make them weep,</div> - <div class="i1">In darkness buried deep</div> - <div>For ever be my ghost.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Edward L. Davison</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_180"><a href="#note_180">180</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE DEAD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,</div> - <div class="i1">Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,</div> - <div class="i1">And sunset, and the colours of the earth.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>These had seen movement, and heard music; known</div> - <div class="i1">Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;</div> - <div>Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter</div> - <div>And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,</div> - <div class="i1">Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance</div> - <div>And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,</div> - <div>A width, a shining peace, under the night.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Rupert Brooke</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_181">181</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE END</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>After the blast of lightning from the east,</div> - <div>The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne;</div> - <div>After the drums of time have rolled and ceased,</div> - <div>And, from the bronze west, long retreat is blown—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth</div> - <div>All death will he annul, all tears assuage?—</div> - <div>Or fill these void veins full again with youth,</div> - <div>And wash, with an immortal water, Age?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I do ask white Age, he saith, "Not so:</div> - <div>My head hangs weighed with snow."</div> - <div>And when I hearken to the Earth, she saith:</div> - <div>"My fiery heart sinks aching. It is death.</div> - <div>Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified.</div> - <div>Nor my titanic tears, the seas, be dried."</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Wilfred Owen</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_182">182</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CROWNS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cherry and pear are white,</div> - <div>Their snows lie sprinkled on the land like light</div> - <div>On darkness shed.</div> - <div>Far off and near</div> - <div>The orchards toss their crowns of delight,</div> - <div>And the sun casts down</div> - <div>Another shining crown.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The wind tears and throws down</div> - <div>Petal by petal the crown</div> - <div>Of cherry and pear till the earth is white,</div> - <div>And all the brightness is shed</div> - <div>In the orchards far off and near,</div> - <div>That tossed by the road and under the green hill;</div> - <div>And the wind is fled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Far, far off the wind</div> - <div>Has shaken down</div> - <div>A brightness that was as the brightness of cherry or pear</div> - <div>When the orchards shine in the sun.</div> - <div>—Oh there is no more fairness</div> - <div>Since this rareness,</div> - <div>The radiant blossom of English earth—is dead!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Freeman</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_183">183</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CORONACH<a name="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> -</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He is gone on the mountain,</div> - <div class="i1">He is lost to the forest,</div> - <div>Like a summer-dried fountain,</div> - <div class="i1">When our need was the sorest.</div> - <div>The font, reappearing,</div> - <div class="i1">From the rain-drops shall borrow,</div> - <div>But to us comes no cheering,</div> - <div class="i1">To Duncan no morrow!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The hand of the reaper</div> - <div class="i1">Takes the ears that are hoary,</div> - <div>But the voice of the weeper</div> - <div class="i1">Wails manhood in glory.</div> - <div>The autumn winds rushing</div> - <div class="i1">Waft the leaves that are serest,</div> - <div>But our flower was in flushing,</div> - <div class="i1">When blighting was nearest.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fleet foot on the correi,<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a></div> - <div class="i1">Sage counsel in cumber,<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a></div> - <div>Red hand in the foray,</div> - <div class="i1">How sound is thy slumber!</div> - <div>Like the dew on the mountain,</div> - <div class="i1">Like the foam on the river,</div> - <div>Like the bubble on the fountain,</div> - <div class="i1">Thou art gone, and for ever.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Sir Walter Scott</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_184"><a href="#note_184">184</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CHILDREN'S BELLS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where are your Oranges?</div> - <div>Where are your Lemons?</div> - <div>What, are you silent now,</div> - <div>Bells of St. Clement's?<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a></div> - <div>You, of all bells that rang</div> - <div>Once in old London,</div> - <div>You, of all bells that sang,</div> - <div>Utterly undone?</div> - <div>You whom all children know</div> - <div>Ere they know letters,</div> - <div>Making Big Ben himself</div> - <div>Call you his betters?</div> - <div>Where are your lovely tones</div> - <div>Fruitful and mellow,</div> - <div>Full-flavoured orange-gold,</div> - <div>Clear lemon-yellow?</div> - <div>Ring again, sing again,</div> - <div>Bells of St. Clement's!</div> - <div>Call as you swing again,</div> - <div>"Oranges! Lemons!"</div> - <div>Fatherless children</div> - <div>Are listening near you—</div> - <div>Sing for the children,</div> - <div>The fathers will hear you.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Eleanor Farjeon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_185"><a href="#note_185">185</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MEN WHO MARCH AWAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We be the King's men, hale and hearty,</div> - <div>Marching to meet one Buonaparty;</div> - <div>If he won't sail, lest the wind should blow,</div> - <div>We shall have marched for nothing, O!</div> - <div class="i10">Right fol-lol!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We be the King's men, hale and hearty,</div> - <div>Marching to meet one Buonaparty;</div> - <div>If he be sea-sick, says "No, no!"</div> - <div>We shall have marched for nothing, O!</div> - <div class="i10">Right fol-lol!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We be the king's men hale and hearty,</div> - <div>Marching to meet one Buonaparty;</div> - <div>Never mind, mates; we'll be merry, though</div> - <div>We may have marched for nothing, O!</div> - <div class="i10">Right fol-lol!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Thomas Hardy</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_186"><a href="#note_186">186</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BUDMOUTH DEARS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">When we lay where Budmouth Beach is,</div> - <div class="i3">O, the girls were fresh as peaches,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">With their tall and tossing figures and their eyes of blue and brown!</div> - <div class="i3">And our hearts would ache with longing</div> - <div class="i3">As we paced from our sing-songing,</div> - <div>With a smart <i>Clink! Clink!</i> up the Esplanade and down.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">They distracted and delayed us</div> - <div class="i3">By the pleasant pranks they played us,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And what marvel, then, if troopers, even of regiments of renown,</div> - <div class="i3">On whom flashed those eyes divine, O,</div> - <div class="i3">Should forget the countersign, O,</div> - <div>As we tore <i>Clink! Clink!</i> back to camp above the town.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">Do they miss us much, I wonder,</div> - <div class="i3">Now that war has swept us sunder,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And we roam from where the faces smile to where the faces frown?</div> - <div class="i3">And no more behold the features</div> - <div class="i3">Of the fair fantastic creatures,</div> - <div>And no more <i>Clink! Clink!</i> past the parlours of the town?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">Shall we once again there meet them?</div> - <div class="i3">Falter fond attempts to greet them?</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Will the gay sling-jacket glow again beside the muslin gown?</div> - <div class="i3">Will they archly quiz and con us</div> - <div class="i3">With a sideway glance upon us,</div> - <div>While our spurs Clink! Clink! up the Esplanade and down?</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Thomas Hardy</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_187"><a href="#note_187">187</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TRAFALGAR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In the wild October night-time, when the wind raved round the land,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the Back-sea met the Front-sea, and our doors were blocked with sand,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And we heard the drub of Dead-man's Bay, where bones of thousands are,</div> - <div>We knew not what the day had done for us at Trafalgár.</div> - <div class="i7">(<i>All</i>) Had done,</div> - <div class="i9h">Had done,</div> - <div class="i7">For us at Trafalgar!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Pull hard, and make the Nothe, or down we go!" one says, says he.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">We pulled; and bedtime brought the storm; but snug at home slept we.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Yet all the while our gallants after fighting through the day,</div> - <div>Were beating up and down the dark, sou'-west of Cadiz Bay.</div> - <div class="i9h">The dark,</div> - <div class="i9h">The dark,</div> - <div class="i7">Sou'-west of Cadiz Bay!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">The victors and the vanquished then the storm it tossed and tore,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">As hard they strove, those worn-out men, upon that surly shore;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Dead Nelson and his half-dead crew, his foes from near and far,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></div> - <div>Were rolled together on the deep that night at Trafalgar!</div> - <div class="i9h">The deep,</div> - <div class="i9h">The deep,</div> - <div class="i7">That night at Trafalgar!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Thomas Hardy</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_188">188</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MESSMATES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He gave us all a good-bye cheerily</div> - <div class="i1">At the first dawn of day;</div> - <div>We dropped him down the side full drearily</div> - <div class="i1">When the light died away.</div> - <div>It's a dead dark watch that he's a-keeping there,</div> - <div>And a long, long night that lags a-creeping there,</div> - <div>Where the Trades and the tides roll over him</div> - <div class="i1">And the great ships go by.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's there alone with green seas rocking him</div> - <div class="i1">For a thousand miles round;</div> - <div>He's there alone with dumb things mocking him,</div> - <div class="i1">And we're homeward bound.</div> - <div>It's a long, lone watch that he's a-keeping there,</div> - <div>And a dead cold night that lags a-creeping there,</div> - <div>While the months and the years roll over him</div> - <div class="i1">And the great ships go by.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I wonder if the tramps come near enough</div> - <div class="i1">As they thrash to and fro,</div> - <div>And the battle-ships' bells ring clear enough</div> - <div class="i1">To be heard down below;</div> - <div>If through all the lone watch that he's a-keeping there,</div> - <div>And the long, cold night that lags a-creeping there,</div> - <div>The voices of the sailor-men shall comfort him</div> - <div class="i1">When the great ships go by.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Henry Newbolt</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_189"><a href="#note_189">189</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG FOR ALL SEAS, ALL SHIPS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To-day a rude brief recitative,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Of ships sailing the seas, each with its special flag or ship-signal,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Of unnamed heroes in the ships—of waves spreading and spreading far as the eye can reach,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Of dashing spray, and the winds piping and blowing,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And out of these a chant for the sailors of all nations,</div> - <div>Fitful, like a surge.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Of sea-captains young or old, and the mates, and of all intrepid sailors,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Of the few, very choice, taciturn, whom fate can never surprise nor death dismay,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Picked sparingly without noise by thee, old ocean, chosen by thee,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Thou sea that pickest and cullest the race in time, and unitest nations,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Suckled by thee, old husky nurse, embodying thee,</div> - <div>Indomitable, untamed as thee....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Flaunt out, O sea, your separate flags of nations!</div> - <div>Flaunt out visible as ever the various ship-signals!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But do you reserve especially for yourself and for the soul of man one flag above all the rest,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">A spiritual woven signal for all nations, emblem of man elate above death,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Token of all brave captains and all intrepid sailors and mates,</div> - <div>And all that went down doing their duty,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Reminiscent of them, twined from all intrepid captains young or old,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">A pennant universal, subtly waving all time, o'er all, brave sailors,</div> - <div>All seas, all ships.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Walt Whitman</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_190">190</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HOHENLINDEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On Linden, when the sun was low,</div> - <div>All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;</div> - <div>And dark as winter was the flow</div> - <div class="i3">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But Linden saw another sight,</div> - <div>When the drum beat at dead of night</div> - <div>Commanding fires of death to light</div> - <div class="i3">The darkness of her scenery.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>By torch and trumpet fast arrayed</div> - <div>Each horseman drew his battle-blade,</div> - <div>And furious every charger neighed</div> - <div class="i3">To join the dreadful revelry.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then shook the hills with thunder riven;</div> - <div>Then rushed the steed, to battle driven;</div> - <div>And louder than the bolts of Heaven</div> - <div class="i3">Far flashed the red artillery.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But redder yet that light shall glow</div> - <div>On Linden's hills of stainèd snow;</div> - <div>And bloodier yet the torrent flow</div> - <div class="i3">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun</div> - <div>Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,</div> - <div>Where furious Frank and fiery Hun</div> - <div class="i3">Shout in their sulphurous canopy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The combat deepens. On, ye Brave,</div> - <div>Who rush to glory or the grave!</div> - <div>Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,</div> - <div class="i3">And charge with all thy chivalry!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Few, few shall part, where many meet!</div> - <div>The snow shall be their winding-sheet,</div> - <div>And every turf beneath their feet</div> - <div class="i3">Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Thomas Campbell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_191">191</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HAME, HAME, HAME</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hame, hame, hame, hame, fain wad I be:</div> - <div>O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie!</div> - <div>When the flower is in the bud, and the leaf is on the tree,</div> - <div>The lark shall sing me hame to my ain countrie.</div> - <div>Hame, hame, hame! O hame fain wad I be!</div> - <div>O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The green leaf o' loyalty's beginning now to fa';</div> - <div>The bonnie white rose it is withering an' a';</div> - <div>But we'll water it with the blude of usurping tyrannie,</div> - <div>And fresh it shall blaw in my ain countrie!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, there's nocht now frae ruin my countrie can save,</div> - <div>But the keys o' kind heaven, to open the grave,</div> - <div>That a' the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie</div> - <div>May rise again and fight for their ain countrie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The great now are gane, who attempted to save;</div> - <div>The green grass is growing abune their graves;</div> - <div>Yet the sun through the mirk seems to promise to me—</div> - <div>I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countrie.</div> - <div>Hame, hame, hame, hame, fain wad I be;</div> - <div>O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Allan Cunningham</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_192"><a href="#note_192">192</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DARK ROSALEEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O my dark Rosaleen,</div> - <div class="i1">Do not sigh, do not weep!</div> - <div>The priests are on the ocean green,</div> - <div class="i1">They march along the deep.</div> - <div>There's wine from the royal Pope</div> - <div class="i1">Upon the ocean green,</div> - <div>And Spanish ale shall give you hope,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - <div class="i1">My own Rosaleen!</div> - <div>Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope,</div> - <div>Shall give you health, and help, and hope,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Over hills and through dales</div> - <div class="i1">Have I roamed for your sake;</div> - <div>All yesterday I sailed the sails</div> - <div class="i1">On river and on lake.</div> - <div>The Erne, at its highest flood,</div> - <div class="i1">I dashed across unseen,</div> - <div>For there was lightning in my blood,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - <div class="i1">My own Rosaleen!</div> - <div>Oh! there was lightning in my blood,</div> - <div>Red lightning lightened through my blood,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All day long, in unrest,</div> - <div class="i1">To and fro do I move.</div> - <div>The very soul within my breast</div> - <div class="i1">Is wasted for you, love!</div> - <div>The heart in my bosom faints</div> - <div class="i1">To think of you, my Queen,</div> - <div>My life of life, my saint of saints,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - <div class="i1">My own Rosaleen!</div> - <div>To hear your sweet and sad complaints,</div> - <div>My life, my love, my saint of saints,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Woe and pain, pain and woe,</div> - <div class="i1">Are my lot, night and noon,</div> - <div>To see your bright face clouded so,</div> - <div class="i1">Like to the mournful moon.</div> - <div>But yèt will I rear your throne</div> - <div class="i1">Again in golden sheen;</div> - <div>'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - <div class="i1">My own Rosaleen!</div> - <div>'Tis you shall have the golden throne,</div> - <div>'Tis you shall reign, and reign alone,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Over dews, over sands,</div> - <div class="i1">Will I fly for your weal:</div> - <div>Your holy delicate white hands</div> - <div class="i1">Shall girdle me with steel.</div> - <div>At home, in your emerald bowers,</div> - <div class="i1">From morning's dawn till e'en,</div> - <div>You'll pray for me, my flower of flowers,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - <div class="i1">My fond Rosaleen!</div> - <div>You'll think of me through daylight hours,</div> - <div>My virgin flower, my flower of flowers,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I could scale the blue air,</div> - <div class="i1">I could plough the high hills,</div> - <div>Oh, I could kneel all night in prayer,</div> - <div class="i1">To heal your many ills!</div> - <div>And one beamy smile from you</div> - <div class="i1">Would float like light between</div> - <div>My toils and me, my own, my true,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - <div class="i1">My fond Rosaleen!</div> - <div>Would give me life and soul anew,</div> - <div>A second life, a soul anew,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh! the Erne shall run red</div> - <div class="i1">With redundance of blood,</div> - <div>The earth shall rock beneath our tread,</div> - <div class="i1">And flames wrap hill and wood,</div> - <div>And gun-peal and slogan-cry</div> - <div class="i1">Wake many a glen serene,</div> - <div>Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - <div class="i1">My own Rosaleen!</div> - <div>The Judgment Hour must first be nigh,</div> - <div>Ere you shall fade, ere you can die,</div> - <div class="i1">My dark Rosaleen!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">James Clarence Mangan</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_193">193</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MY LUVE'S IN GERMANY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My Luve's in Germany;</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame, send him hame;</div> - <div>My Luve's in Germany,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame:</div> - <div>My Luve's in Germany,</div> - <div class="i1">Fighting for Royalty;</div> - <div>He may ne'er his Jeanie see;</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame, send him hame;</div> - <div>He may ne'er his Jeanie see,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"He's brave as brave can be,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame, send him hame;</div> - <div>He's brave as brave can be,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame.</div> - <div>He's brave as brave can be,</div> - <div>He wad rather fa' than flee;</div> - <div>But his life is dear to me,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame, send him hame;</div> - <div>Oh! his life is dear to me,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Our faes are ten to three,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame, send him hame;</div> - <div>Our faes are ten to three,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame.</div> - <div>Our faes are ten to three,</div> - <div>He maun either fa' or flee,</div> - <div>In the cause o' Loyalty;</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame, send him hame;</div> - <div>In the cause o' Loyalty,</div> - <div class="i1">Send him hame."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Your luve ne'er learnt to flee,</div> - <div class="i1">Bonnie Dame, winsome Dame;</div> - <div>Your luve ne'er learnt to flee,</div> - <div class="i1">Winsome Dame.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></div> - <div>Your luve ne'er learnt to flee,</div> - <div>But he fell in Germany,</div> - <div>Fighting brave for Loyalty,</div> - <div class="i1">Mournfu' Dame, bonnie Dame,</div> - <div>Fighting brave for Loyalty,</div> - <div class="i1">Mournfu' Dame!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"He'll ne'er come owre the sea,</div> - <div class="i1">Willie's slain, Willie's slain;</div> - <div>He'll ne'er come owre the sea,</div> - <div class="i1">Willie's gane!</div> - <div>He'll ne'er come owre the sea,</div> - <div>To his Love and ain Countrie—</div> - <div>This warld's nae mair for me,</div> - <div class="i1">Willie's gane, Willie's gane!</div> - <div>This warld's nae mair for me</div> - <div class="i1">Willie's slain!"</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_194">194</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A WEARY LOT IS THINE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"A weary lot is thine, fair maid,</div> - <div class="i1">A weary lot is thine!</div> - <div>To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,</div> - <div class="i1">And press the rue for wine.</div> - <div>A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,</div> - <div class="i1">A feather of the blue,</div> - <div>A doubtlet of the Lincoln green—</div> - <div class="i1">No more of me you knew,</div> - <div class="i8">My love!</div> - <div>No more of me you knew.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"This morn is merry June, I trow,</div> - <div class="i1">The rose is budding fain;</div> - <div>But she shall bloom in winter snow</div> - <div class="i1">Ere we two meet again."</div> - <div>He turned his charger as he spake</div> - <div class="i1">Upon the river shore,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></div> - <div>He gave the bridle-reins a shake,</div> - <div class="i1">Said, "Adieu for evermore,</div> - <div class="i9">My love!</div> - <div>And adieu for evermore."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Sir Walter Scott</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_195">195</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CHARLIE HE'S MY DARLING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">An' Charlie he's my darling,</div> - <div class="i3">My darling, my darling!</div> - <div class="i3">Charlie he's my darling,</div> - <div class="i3">The young Chevalier!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Twas on a Monday morning,</div> - <div class="i1">Right early in the year,</div> - <div>That Charlie cam' to our town,</div> - <div class="i1">The young Chevalier!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As he was walking up the street,</div> - <div class="i1">The city for to view,</div> - <div>O, there he spied a bonnie lass</div> - <div class="i1">The window lookin' through.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sae light's he jimpèd up the stair,</div> - <div class="i1">An' tirlèd at the pin;</div> - <div>An' wha sae ready as hersel</div> - <div class="i1">To let the laddie in?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He set Jenny on his knee,</div> - <div class="i1">A' in his Highland dress;</div> - <div>For brawlie weel he kenned the way</div> - <div class="i1">To please a lassie best.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It's up yon heathery mountain,</div> - <div class="i1">An' down yon scroggy glen,</div> - <div>We daur na gang a-milking</div> - <div class="i1">For Charlie an' his men!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">An' Charlie he's my darling,</div> - <div class="i3">My darling, my darling!</div> - <div class="i3">Charlie he's my darling,</div> - <div class="i3">The young Chevalier!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_196">196</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FAREWELL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It was a' for our rightfu' king</div> - <div class="i1">We left fair Scotland's strand;</div> - <div>It was a' for our rightfu' king</div> - <div class="i1">We e'er saw Irish land,</div> - <div class="i3">My dear,</div> - <div class="i1">We e'er saw Irish land.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now a' is done that man can do,</div> - <div class="i1">And a' is done in vain;</div> - <div>My love, and native land, farewell,</div> - <div class="i1">For I maun cross the main,</div> - <div class="i3">My dear,</div> - <div class="i1">For I maun cross the main.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He turned him right and round about</div> - <div class="i1">Upon the Irish shore;</div> - <div>And gae his bridle-reins a shake,</div> - <div class="i1">With Adieu for evermore,</div> - <div class="i3">My dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Adieu for evermore.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The sodger frae the wars returns,</div> - <div class="i1">The sailor frae the main;</div> - <div>But I hae parted frae my love,</div> - <div class="i1">Never to meet again,</div> - <div class="i3">My dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Never to meet again.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When day is gane, and night is come,</div> - <div class="i1">And a' folks bound to sleep;</div> - <div>I think on him that's far awa',</div> - <div class="i1">The lee-lang night, and weep,</div> - <div class="i3">My dear,</div> - <div class="i1">The lee-lang night, and weep.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Robert Burns</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_197"><a href="#note_197">197</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,</div> - <div>Lasses a-lilting before the dawn of day;</div> - <div>But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning:—</div> - <div>The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At bughts in the morning nae blythe lads are scorning;</div> - <div>The lasses are lanely, and dowie, and wae;</div> - <div>Nae daffing, nae gabbing, but sighing and sabbing,</div> - <div>Ilk ane lifts her leglin, and hies her away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In hairst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering:</div> - <div>The bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray.</div> - <div>At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching—</div> - <div>The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At e'en, in the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming</div> - <div>'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play;</div> - <div>But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie—</div> - <div>The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border!</div> - <div>The English, for ance, be guile wan the day;</div> - <div>The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost,</div> - <div>The prime of our land, lie cauld in the clay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We'll hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking;</div> - <div>Women and bairns are heartless and wae;</div> - <div>Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning:</div> - <div>The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Jean Elliot</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_198">198</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"AS I WAS GOING"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I was going by Charing Cross,</div> - <div>I saw a black man upon a black horse;</div> - <div>They told me it was King Charles the First;</div> - <div>Oh dear, my heart was ready to burst!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_199"><a href="#note_199">199</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OF THE GREAT AND FAMOUS</h4> -<p class="smcap center p-left">Ever to be honoured Knight, Sir Francis Drake, and of my -little-little selfe.</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Dragon that our Seas did raise his Crest</div> - <div>And brought back heapes of gold unto his nest,</div> - <div>Unto his Foes more terrible than Thunder,</div> - <div>Glory of his age, After-ages' wonder,</div> - <div>Excelling all those that excelled before;</div> - <div>It's feared we shall have none such any more;</div> - <div>Effecting all he sole did undertake,</div> - <div>Valiant, just, wise, milde, honest, Godly <i>Drake</i>.</div> - <div>This man when I was little I did meete</div> - <div>As he was walking up Totnes' long street.</div> - <div>He asked me whose I was? I answered him.</div> - <div>He asked me if his good friend were within?</div> - <div>A faire red Orange in his hand he had,</div> - <div>He gave it me whereof I was right glad,</div> - <div>Takes and kist me, and prayes <i>God blesse my boy</i>:</div> - <div>Which I record <i>with comfort</i> to this day.</div> - <div>Could he on me have breathèd with his breath,</div> - <div>His gifts, Elias-like, after his death,</div> - <div>Then had I beene enabled for to doe</div> - <div>Many brave things I have a heart unto.</div> - <div>I have as great desire as e're had <i>hee</i></div> - <div>To joy, annoy, friends, foes; but 'twill not be.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Robert Hayman</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_200"><a href="#note_200">200</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A LAMENTATION</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All looks be pale, hearts cold as stone,</div> - <div>For Hally now is dead and gone.</div> - <div class="i1">Hally in whose sight,</div> - <div class="i2">Most sweet sight,</div> - <div>All the earth late took delight.</div> - <div class="i1">Every eye, weep with me,</div> - <div class="i1">Joys drowned in tears must be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His ivory skin, his comely hair,</div> - <div>His rosy checks so clear and fair,</div> - <div class="i1">Eyes that once did grace</div> - <div class="i2">His bright face,</div> - <div>Now in him all want their place.</div> - <div class="i1">Eyes and hearts, weep with me,</div> - <div class="i1">For who so kind as he?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His youth was like an April flower,</div> - <div>Adorned with beauty, love, and power.</div> - <div class="i1">Glory strewed his way,</div> - <div class="i2">Whose wreaths gay</div> - <div>Now are all turnèd to decay.</div> - <div class="i1">Then, again, weep with me,</div> - <div class="i1">None feel more cause than we.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No more may his wished sight return.</div> - <div>His golden lamp no more can burn.</div> - <div class="i1">Quenched is all his flame,</div> - <div class="i2">His hoped fame</div> - <div>Now hath left him nought but name.</div> - <div class="i1">For him all weep with me,</div> - <div class="i1">Since more him none shall see.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Campion</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_201">201</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHAT IF SOME LITTLE PAIN THE PASSAGE HAVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">... What if some little paine the passage have,</div> - <div class="i1">That makes fraile flesh to feare the bitter wave?</div> - <div class="i1">Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,</div> - <div class="i1">And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave?</div> - <div class="i1">Sleep after toyle, port after stormie seas,</div> - <div>Ease after warre, death after live does greatly please....</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Edmund Spenser</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_202"><a href="#note_202">202</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HENRY BEFORE AGINCOURT: <span class="smcap">October</span> 25, 1415</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Our King went up upon a hill high</div> - <div>And looked down to the valleys low:</div> - <div>He saw where the Frenchmen came hastily</div> - <div>As thick as ever did hail or snow.</div> - <div>Then kneeled our King down, in that stound,<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a></div> - <div>And all his men on every side:</div> - <div>Every man made a cross and kissed the ground,</div> - <div>And on their feet fast gan abide.</div> - <div>Our King said, "Sirs, what time of the day?"</div> - <div>"My Liege," they said, "it is nigh Prime."</div> - <div>"Then go we to our journey,</div> - <div>By the grace of <span class="smcap">Jesu</span>, it is good time:</div> - <div>For saints that lie in their shrine</div> - <div>To <span class="smcap">God</span> for us be praying.</div> - <div>All the Religious of England, in this time,</div> - <div><i>Ora pro nobis</i> for us they sing."</div> - <div><span class="smcap">St. George</span> was seen over the host:</div> - <div>Of very truth this sight men did see.</div> - <div>Down was he sent by the <span class="smcap">Holy Ghost</span>,</div> - <div>To give our King the victory....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Lydgate</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_203"><a href="#note_203">203</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ALEXANDER THE GREAT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Four men stood by the grave of a man,</div> - <div>The grave of Alexander the Proud:</div> - <div>They sang words without falsehood</div> - <div>Over the prince from fair Greece.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Said the first man of them:</div> - <div>"Yesterday there were around the king</div> - <div>The men of the world—a sad gathering!</div> - <div>Though to-day he is alone."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Yesterday the king of the brown world</div> - <div>Rode upon the heavy earth:</div> - <div>Though to-day it is the earth</div> - <div>That rides upon his neck."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Yesterday," said the third wise author,</div> - <div>"Philip's son owned the whole world:</div> - <div>To-day he has nought</div> - <div>Save seven feet of earth."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Alexander the liberal and great</div> - <div>Was wont to bestow silver and gold:</div> - <div>To-day," said the fourth man,</div> - <div>"The gold is here, and it is nought."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thus truly spoke the wise men</div> - <div>Around the grave of the high-king:</div> - <div>It was not foolish women's talk</div> - <div>What those four sang.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_204">204</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MYRTLE BUSH GREW SHADY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The myrtle bush grew shady</div> - <div class="i1">Down by the ford."—</div> - <div>"Is it even so?" said my lady.</div> - <div class="i1">"Even so!" said my lord.</div> - <div>"The leaves are set too thick together</div> - <div class="i1">For the point of a sword."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The arras in your room hangs close,</div> - <div class="i1">No light between!</div> - <div>You wedded one of those</div> - <div class="i1">That see unseen."—</div> - <div>"Is it even so?" said the King's Majesty.</div> - <div class="i1">"Even so!" said the Queen.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Mary Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_205"><a href="#note_205">205</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FORT OF RATHANGAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The fort over against the oak-wood,</div> - <div>Once it was Bruidge's, it was Cathal's,</div> - <div>It was Aed's, it was Ailill's,</div> - <div>It was Conaing's, it was Cuiline's,</div> - <div>And it was Maelduin's;</div> - <div>The fort remains after each in his turn—</div> - <div>And the kings asleep in the ground.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_195" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_195.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>DANCE,<br /> - -MUSIC AND BELLS.</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_206">206</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A PIPER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A piper in the streets to-day</div> - <div>Set up, and tuned, and started to play,</div> - <div>And away, away, away on the tide</div> - <div>Of his music we started; on every side</div> - <div>Doors and windows were opened wide,</div> - <div>And men left down their work and came,</div> - <div>And women with petticoats coloured like flame.</div> - <div>And little bare feet that were blue with cold,</div> - <div>Went dancing back to the age of gold,</div> - <div>And all the world went gay, went gay,</div> - <div>For half an hour in the street to-day.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Seumas O'Sullivan</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_207"><a href="#note_207">207</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LITTLE DANCERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lonely, save for a few faint stars, the sky</div> - <div>Dreams; and lonely, below, the little street</div> - <div>Into its gloom retires, secluded and shy.</div> - <div>Scarcely the dumb roar enters this soft retreat;</div> - <div>And all is dark, save where come flooding rays</div> - <div>From a tavern window: there, to the brisk measure</div> - <div>Of an organ that down in an alley merrily plays,</div> - <div>Two children, all alone and no one by,</div> - <div>Holding their tattered frocks, through an airy maze</div> - <div>Of motion, lightly threaded with nimble feet,</div> - <div>Dance sedately: face to face they gaze,</div> - <div>Their eyes shining, grave with a perfect pleasure.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Laurence Binyon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_208">208</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TWO NUT TREES</h4> -<p class="center p-left">i</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I had a little nut tree,</div> - <div class="i1">Nothing would it bear,</div> - <div>But a silver nutmeg,</div> - <div class="i1">And a golden pear.</div> - <div>The King of Spain's daughter</div> - <div class="i1">Came to visit me,</div> - <div>And all was because of</div> - <div class="i1">My little nut tree.</div> - <div>I skipped over water</div> - <div class="i1">I danced over sea,</div> - <div>And all the birds in the air</div> - <div class="i1">Could not catch me.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Anon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<p class="center p-left">ii</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The King of China's daughter</div> - <div>So beautiful to see</div> - <div>With her face like yellow water, left</div> - <div>Her nutmeg tree.</div> - <div>Her little rope for skipping</div> - <div>She kissed and gave it me—</div> - <div>Made of painted notes of singing-birds</div> - <div>Among the fields of tea.</div> - <div>I skipped across the nutmeg grove,—</div> - <div>I skipped across the sea;</div> - <div>But neither sun nor moon, my dear,</div> - <div>Has yet caught me.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Edith Sitwell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_209"><a href="#note_209">209</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHEN THE GREEN WOODS LAUGH</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,</div> - <div>And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;</div> - <div>When the air does laugh with our merry wit,</div> - <div>And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the meadows laugh with lively green,</div> - <div>And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,</div> - <div>When Mary and Susan and Emily</div> - <div>With their sweet round mouths sing "Ha, Ha, He!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the painted birds laugh in the shade,</div> - <div>Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread,</div> - <div>Come live, and be merry, and join with me,</div> - <div>To sing the sweet chorus of "Ha, Ha, He!"</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_210"><a href="#note_210">210</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FA LA LA</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My mistress frowns when she should play;</div> - <div>I'll please her with a <i>Fa la la</i>.</div> - <div>Sometimes she chides, but I straightway</div> - <div>Present her with a <i>Fa la la</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>You lovers that have loves astray</div> - <div>May win them with a <i>Fa la la</i>.</div> - <div>Quick music's best, for still they say</div> - <div>None pleaseth like your <i>Fa la la</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_211"><a href="#note_211">211</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IT WAS A LOVER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It was a Lover, and his lasse,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino</i>,</div> - <div>That ore the greene corne-field did passe,</div> - <div class="i1">In spring time, the onely pretty ring time,</div> - <div>When Birds do sing, <i>hey ding a ding, ding</i>:</div> - <div>Sweet Lovers love the spring.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Between the acres of the Rie,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino</i>,</div> - <div>These prettie Country folks would lie,</div> - <div class="i1">In spring time, the onely pretty ring time,</div> - <div>When Birds do sing, <i>hey ding a ding, ding</i>:</div> - <div>Sweet Lovers love the spring.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This Carroll they began that houre,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino</i>,</div> - <div>How that a life was but a Flower,</div> - <div class="i1">In spring time, the only pretty ring time,</div> - <div>When Birds do sing, <i>hey ding a ding, ding</i>:</div> - <div>Sweet Lovers love the spring.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And therefore take the present time,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino</i>;</div> - <div>For love is crownèd with the prime</div> - <div class="i1">In spring time, the only pretty ring time,</div> - <div>When birds do sing, <i>hey ding a ding, ding</i>:</div> - <div>Sweet lovers love the spring.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_212"><a href="#note_212">212</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HEY, NONNY NO!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Hey, nonny no!</i></div> - <div>Men are fools that wish to die!</div> - <div>Is't not fine to dance and sing</div> - <div>When the bells of death do ring?</div> - <div>Is't not fine to swim in wine,</div> - <div>And turn upon the toe,</div> - <div>And sing <i>Hey nonny no!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the winds blow and the seas flow?</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Hey, nonny no!</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_213"><a href="#note_213">213</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TARANTELLA</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Do you remember an Inn,</div> - <div>Miranda?</div> - <div>Do you remember an Inn?</div> - <div>And the tedding and the spreading</div> - <div>Of the straw for a bedding,</div> - <div>And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,</div> - <div>And the wine that tasted of the tar?</div> - <div>And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers</div> - <div>(Under the dark of the vine verandah)?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,</div> - <div>Do you remember an Inn?</div> - <div>And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers</div> - <div>Who hadn't got a penny,</div> - <div>And who weren't paying any,</div> - <div>And the hammer at the doors and the Din?</div> - <div>And the Hip! Hop! Hap!</div> - <div>Of the clap</div> - <div>Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl</div> - <div>Of the girl gone chancing,</div> - <div>Glancing,</div> - <div>Dancing,</div> - <div>Backing and advancing,</div> - <div>Snapping of the clapper to the spin</div> - <div>Out and in—</div> - <div>And the Ting, Tong, Tang of the guitar!</div> - <div>Do you remember an Inn,</div> - <div>Miranda?</div> - <div>Do you remember an Inn?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">Never more;</div> - <div class="i4">Miranda,</div> - <div class="i4">Never more.</div> - <div class="i4">Only the high peaks hoar:</div> - <div class="i4">And Aragon a torrent at the door.</div> - <div class="i4">No sound</div> - <div class="i4">In the walls of the Halls where falls</div> - <div class="i4">The tread</div> - <div class="i4">Of the feet of the dead to the ground.</div> - <div class="i4">No sound:</div> - <div class="i4">Only the boom</div> - <div class="i4">Of the far Waterfall like Doom.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Hilaire Belloc</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_214"><a href="#note_214">214</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"I LOVED A LASS"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I loved a lass, a fair one,</div> - <div class="i1">As fair as e'er was seen;</div> - <div>She was indeed a rare one,</div> - <div class="i1">Another Sheba Queen:</div> - <div>But, fool as then I was,</div> - <div class="i1">I thought she loved me too:</div> - <div>But now, alas! she has left me,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Falero, lero, loo!...</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And as abroad we walkèd</div> - <div class="i1">As lovers' fashion is,</div> - <div>Oft as we sweetly talkèd</div> - <div class="i1">The sun would steal a kiss.</div> - <div>The wind upon her lips</div> - <div class="i1">Likewise most sweetly blew;</div> - <div>But now, alas! she has left me</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Falero, lero, loo!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Many a merry meeting</div> - <div class="i1">My love and I have had;</div> - <div>She was my only sweeting,</div> - <div class="i1">She made my heart full glad;</div> - <div>The tears stood in her eyes</div> - <div class="i1">Like to the morning dew:</div> - <div>But now, alas! she has left me,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Falero, lero, loo!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her cheeks were like the cherry,</div> - <div class="i1">Her skin was white as snow;</div> - <div>When she was blithe and merry</div> - <div class="i1">She angel-like did show;</div> - <div>Her waist exceeding small,</div> - <div class="i1">The fives did fit her shoe:</div> - <div>But now, alas! she has left me,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Falero, lero, loo!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In summer time or winter</div> - <div class="i1">She had her heart's desire;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></div> - <div>I still did scorn to stint her</div> - <div class="i1">From sugar, sack, or fire;</div> - <div>The world went round about,</div> - <div class="i1">No cares we ever knew:</div> - <div>But now, alas! she has left me,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Falero, lero, loo!...</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No riches now can raise me,</div> - <div class="i1">No want make me despair;</div> - <div>No misery amaze me,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor yet for want I care.</div> - <div>I have lost a world itself,</div> - <div class="i1">My earthly heaven, adieu,</div> - <div>Since she, alas! hath left me,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Falero, lero, loo....</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">George Wither</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_215">215</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GREEN GRASS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>A dis, a dis, a green grass,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>A dis, a dis, a dis</i>;</div> - <div>Come all you pretty fair maids</div> - <div class="i1">And dance along with us.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For we are going roving,</div> - <div class="i1">A roving in this land;</div> - <div>We take this pretty fair maid,</div> - <div class="i1">We take her by the hand.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She shall get a duke, my dear,</div> - <div class="i1">As duck do get a drake;</div> - <div>And she shall have a young prince,</div> - <div class="i1">For her own fair sake.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And if this young prince chance to die,</div> - <div class="i1">She shall get another;</div> - <div>The bells will ring, and the birds will sing,</div> - <div class="i1">And we clap hands together.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_216">216</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LINCOLNSHIRE POACHER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I was bound apprentice in famous Lincolnshire,</div> - <div>Full well I served my master for more than seven year,</div> - <div>Till I took up to poaching—as you shall quickly hear:</div> - <div class="i4">Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night</div> - <div class="i4">In the season of the year!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As mé and my cómrade were setting of a snare,</div> - <div>Twas then we spied the gamekeeper, for him we did not care,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump o'er anywhere:</div> - <div class="i4">Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night</div> - <div class="i4">In the season of the year!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As me and my comrade were setting four or five,</div> - <div>And taking on 'em up again we caught a hare alive,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">We took the hare alive, my boys, and through the woods did steer:</div> - <div class="i4">Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night</div> - <div class="i4">In the season of the year!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I threw him on my shoulder, and then we trudged home,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">We took him to a neighbour's house and sold him for a crown</div> - <div class="hangingindent">We sold him for a crown, my boys, but I did not tell you where:</div> - <div class="i4">Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night</div> - <div class="i4">In the season of the year!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Success to every gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire,</div> - <div>Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer:<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a></div> - <div class="i4">Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night</div> - <div class="i4">In the season of the year!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_217">217</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MEN OF GOTHAM</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Seamen three! What men be ye?</div> - <div>Gotham's three wise men we be.</div> - <div>Whither in your bowl so free?</div> - <div>To rake the moon from out the sea.</div> - <div>The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.</div> - <div>And our ballast is old wine—</div> - <div><i>And your ballast is old wine</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Who art thóu, so fast adrift?</div> - <div>I am he they call Old Care.</div> - <div>Here on board we will thee lift.</div> - <div>No: I may not enter there.</div> - <div>Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,</div> - <div>In a bowl Care may not be—</div> - <div><i>In a bowl Care may not be</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fear ye not the waves that roll?</div> - <div>No; in charmèd bowl we swim.</div> - <div>What the charm that floats the bowl?</div> - <div>Water may not pass the brim.</div> - <div>The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.</div> - <div>And our ballast is old wine—</div> - <div><i>And your ballast is old wine</i>.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Love Peacock</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_218"><a href="#note_218">218</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>EARLY MORNING MEADOW SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now some may drink old vintage wine</div> - <div class="i1">To ladies gowned with rustling silk,</div> - <div>But we will drink to dairymaids,</div> - <div class="i1">And drink to them in rum and milk—</div> - <div>O, it's up in the morning early,</div> - <div class="i1">When the dew is on the grass,</div> - <div>And St. John's bell rings for matins,</div> - <div class="i1">And St. Mary's rings for mass!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The merry skylarks soar and sing,</div> - <div class="i1">And seem to Heaven very near—</div> - <div>Who knows what blessed inns they see,</div> - <div class="i1">What holy drinking songs they hear?</div> - <div>O, it's up in the morning early,</div> - <div class="i1">When the dew is on the grass,</div> - <div>And St. John's bell rings for matins,</div> - <div class="i1">And St. Mary's rings for mass!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The mushrooms may be priceless pearls</div> - <div class="i1">A queen has lost beside the stream;</div> - <div>But rum is melted rubies when</div> - <div class="i1">It turns the milk to golden cream!</div> - <div>O, it's up in the morning early,</div> - <div class="i1">When the dew is on the grass,</div> - <div>And St. John's bell rings for matins,</div> - <div class="i1">And St. Mary's rings for mass!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Charles Dalmon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_219"><a href="#note_219">219</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DABBLING IN THE DEW</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh, where are you going to, my pretty little dear,</div> - <div>With your red rosy cheeks and your coal-black hair?</div> - <div>I'm going a-milking, kind sir, she answered me:</div> - <div>And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Suppose I were to clothe you, my pretty little dear,</div> - <div>In a green silken gown and the amethyst rare?</div> - <div>O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me,</div> - <div>For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Suppose I were to carry you, my pretty little dear,</div> - <div>In a chariot with horses, a grey gallant pair?</div> - <div>O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me,</div> - <div>For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Suppose I were to feast you, my pretty little dear,</div> - <div>With dainties on silver, the whole of the year?</div> - <div>O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me,</div> - <div>For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O but London's a city, my pretty little dear,</div> - <div>And all men are gallant and brave that are there—</div> - <div>O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me,</div> - <div>For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O fine clothes and dainties and carriages so rare</div> - <div>Bring grey to the cheeks and silver to the hair;</div> - <div>What's a ring on the finger if rings are round the eye?</div> - <div>But it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_220">220</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BONNY LASSIE O!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O the evening's for the fair, bonny lassie O!</div> - <div>To meet the cooler air and walk an angel there,</div> - <div class="i2">With the dark dishevelled hair,</div> - <div class="i6">Bonny lassie O!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The bloom's on the brere, bonny lassie O!</div> - <div>Oak apples on the tree; and wilt thou gang to see</div> - <div class="i2">The shed I've made for thee,</div> - <div class="i6">Bonny lassie O!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Tis agen the running brook, bonny lassie O!</div> - <div>In a grassy nook hard by, with a little patch of sky,</div> - <div class="i2">And a bush to keep us dry,</div> - <div class="i6">Bonny lassie O!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There's the daisy all the year, bonny lassie O!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">There's the king-cup bright as gold, and the speedwell never cold,</div> - <div class="i2">And the arum leaves unrolled,</div> - <div class="i6">Bonny lassie O!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O meet me at the shed, bonny lassie O!</div> - <div>With the woodbine peeping in, and the roses like thy skin</div> - <div class="i2">Blushing, thy praise to win,</div> - <div class="i6">Bonny lassie O!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I will meet thee there at e'en, bonny lassie O!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">When the bee sips in the bean, and grey willow branches lean,</div> - <div class="i2">And the moonbeam looks between,</div> - <div class="i6">Bonny lassie O!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Clare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_221">221</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MAD MAID'S SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Good-morrow to the Day so fair,</div> - <div class="i1">Good-morning, Sir, to you:</div> - <div>Good-morrow to mine own torn hair,</div> - <div class="i1">Bedabbled with the dew.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Good-morning to this Prim-rose too,</div> - <div class="i1">Good-morrow to each maid,</div> - <div>That will with flowers the Tomb bestrew</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein my Love is laid.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me,</div> - <div class="i1">Alack and welladay!</div> - <div>For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee</div> - <div class="i1">Which bore my Love away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ile seek him in your Bonnet brave,</div> - <div class="i1">Ile seek him in your eyes;</div> - <div>Nay, now, I think they've made his grave</div> - <div class="i1">I' the bed of strawburies.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ile seek him there; I know, ere this,</div> - <div class="i1">The cold, cold Earth doth shake him;</div> - <div>But I will go, or send a kiss</div> - <div class="i1">By you, Sir, to awake him.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Pray hurt him not, though he be dead,</div> - <div class="i1">He knowes well who do love him,</div> - <div>And who with green-turfes reare his head,</div> - <div class="i1">And who do rudely move him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's soft and tender (Pray take heed);</div> - <div class="i1">With bands of Cowslips bind him,</div> - <div>And bring him home—but 't is decreed</div> - <div class="i1">That I shall never find him.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Herrick</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_222">222</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TELL ME WHERE IS FANCIE BRED</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">Tell me where is Fancie bred,</div> - <div class="i4">Or in the heart or in the head?</div> - <div class="i4">How begot, how nourishèd?</div> - <div class="i10">Replie, replie!</div> - <div class="i4">It is engendered in the eyes,</div> - <div class="i4">With gazing fed; and Fancie dies</div> - <div class="i4">In the cradle where it lies.</div> - <div class="i4">Let us all ring Fancie's knell:</div> - <div class="i4">Ile begin it:</div> - <div class="i6"><i>Ding, dong, bell.</i></div> - <div><i>All.</i><span class="i2h"><i>Ding, dong, bell.</i></span></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_223"><a href="#note_223">223</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MUSIC</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Music, when soft voices die,</div> - <div>Vibrates in the memory—</div> - <div>Odours, when sweet violets sicken,</div> - <div>Live within the sense they quicken.</div> - <div>Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,</div> - <div>Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;</div> - <div>And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,</div> - <div>Love itself shall slumber on.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_224"><a href="#note_224">224</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BELLS OF SHANDON</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With deep affection and recollection</div> - <div>I often think of the Shandon bells,</div> - <div>Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood,</div> - <div>Fling around my cradle their magic spells.</div> - <div>On this I ponder where'er I wander,</div> - <div>And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee;</div> - <div class="i2">With thy bells of Shandon,</div> - <div class="i2">That sound so grand on</div> - <div>The pleasant waters of the river Lee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in,</div> - <div>Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine,</div> - <div>While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate;</div> - <div>But all their music spoke naught to thine;</div> - <div>For memory, dwelling on each proud swelling</div> - <div>Of thy belfry, knelling its bold notes free,</div> - <div class="i2">Made the bells of Shandon</div> - <div class="i2">Sound more grand on</div> - <div>The pleasant waters of the river Lee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I've heard bells tolling old "Adrian's Mole" in,</div> - <div>Their thunder rolling from the Vatican,</div> - <div>And cymbals glorious, swinging uproarious</div> - <div>In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame;</div> - <div>But thy sounds were sweeter than the dome of Peter</div> - <div>Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly.</div> - <div class="i2">O! the bells of Shandon</div> - <div class="i2">Sound far more grand on</div> - <div>The pleasant waters of the river Lee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">There's a bell in Moscow; while on Tower and Kiosk, O!</div> - <div>In St. Sophia the Turkman gets,</div> - <div>And loud in air, calls men to prayer,</div> - <div>From the tapering summit of tall minarets.</div> - <div>Such empty phantom I freely grant them;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></div> - <div>But there is an anthem more dear to me,—</div> - <div class="i2">'Tis the bells of Shandon,</div> - <div class="i2">That sound so grand on</div> - <div>The pleasant waters of the river Lee.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Francis Mahony (Father Prout)</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_225"><a href="#note_225">225</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UPON A RING OF BELLS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Bells have wide mouths and tongues, but are too weak,</div> - <div class="i1">Have they not help, to sing, or talk or speak.</div> - <div>But if you move them they will mak't appear,</div> - <div>By speaking they'll make all the Town to hear.</div> - <div class="i1">When Ringers handle them with Art and Skill,</div> - <div>They then the ears of their Observers fill,</div> - <div>With such brave Notes, they ting and tang so well</div> - <div>As to out strip all with their ding, dong, Bell.</div> - </div> - -<p class="center p-left"><i>Comparison</i></p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>These Bells are like the Powers of my Soul;</div> - <div>Their Clappers to the Passions of my mind;</div> - <div>The Ropes by which my Bells are made to tole,</div> - <div>Are Promises (I by experience find.)</div> - <div class="i1">My body is the Staple where they hang,</div> - <div>My graces they which do ring ev'ry Bell:</div> - <div>Nor is there any thing gives such a tang,</div> - <div>When by these Ropes these Ringers ring them well.</div> - <div class="i1">Let not my Bells these Ringers want, nor Ropes;</div> - <div>Yea let them have room for to swing and sway:</div> - <div>To toss themselves deny them not their Scopes.</div> - <div>Lord! in my Steeple give them room to play.</div> - <div>If they do tole, ring out, or chime all in,</div> - <div>They drown the tempting tinckling Voice of Vice:</div> - <div>Lord! when my Bells have gone, my Soul has bin</div> - <div>As 'twere a tumbling in this Paradice!</div> - <div class="i1">Or if these Ringers do the Changes ring,</div> - <div>Upon my Bells, they do such Musick make,</div> - <div>My Soul then (Lord) cannot but bounce and sing,</div> - <div>So greatly her they with their Musick take.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></div> - <div>But Boys (my Lusts) into my Belfry go,</div> - <div>And pull these Ropes, but do no Musick make</div> - <div>They rather turn my Bells by what they do,</div> - <div>Or by disorder make my Steeple shake.</div> - <div class="i1">Then, Lord! I pray thee keep my Belfry Key,</div> - <div>Let none but Graces meddle with these Ropes:</div> - <div>And when these naughty Boys come, say them Nay.</div> - <div>From such Ringers of Musick there's no hopes.</div> - <div class="i1">O Lord! If thy poor Child might have his will,</div> - <div>And might his meaning freely to thee tell;</div> - <div>He never of this Musick has his fill,</div> - <div>There's nothing to him like thy ding, dong, Bell.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Bunyan</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_226">226</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BELFRY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dark is the stair, and humid the old walls</div> - <div>Wherein it winds, on worn stones, up the tower.</div> - <div>Only by loophole chinks at intervals</div> - <div>Pierces the late glow of this August hour.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Two truant children climb the stairway dark,</div> - <div>With joined hands, half in glee and half in fear,</div> - <div>The boy mounts brisk, the girl hangs back to hark</div> - <div>If the gruff sexton their light footsteps hear.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dazzled at last they gain the belfry-room.</div> - <div>Barred rays through shutters hover across the floor</div> - <div>Dancing in dust; so fresh they come from gloom</div> - <div>That breathless they pause wondering at the door.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How hushed it is! what smell of timbers old</div> - <div>From cobwebbed beams! The warm light here and there</div> - <div>Edging a darkness, sleeps in pools of gold,</div> - <div>Or weaves fantastic shadows through the air.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How motionless the huge bell! Straight and stiff,</div> - <div>Ropes through the floor rise to the rafters dim.</div> - <div>The shadowy round of metal hangs, as if</div> - <div>No force could ever lift its gleamy rim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A child's awe, a child's wonder, who shall trace</div> - <div>What dumb thoughts on its waxen softness write</div> - <div>In such a spell-brimmed, time-forgotten place,</div> - <div>Bright in that strangeness of approaching night?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As these two gaze, their fingers tighter press;</div> - <div>For suddenly the slow bell upward heaves</div> - <div>Its vast mouth, the cords quiver at the stress,</div> - <div>And ere the heart prepare, the ear receives</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Full on its delicate sense the plangent stroke</div> - <div>Of violent, iron, reverberating sound.</div> - <div>As if the tower in all its stones awoke,</div> - <div>Deep echoes tremble, again in clangour drowned,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>That starts without a whir of frighted wings</div> - <div>And holds these young hearts shaken, hushed, and thrilled,</div> - <div>Like frail reeds in a rushing stream, like strings</div> - <div>Of music, or like trees with tempest filled,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And rolls in wide waves out o'er the lone land,</div> - <div>Tone following tone toward the far-setting sun,</div> - <div>Till where in fields long shadowed reapers stand</div> - <div>Bowed heads look up, and lo, the day is done....</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Laurence Binyon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_227">227</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IL PENSEROSO</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Sweet bird that shunn'st the noise of folly,</div> - <div>Most musicall, most melancholy!</div> - <div>Thee chauntress of the Woods among</div> - <div>I woo to hear thy eeven-song;</div> - <div>And missing thee, I walk unseen</div> - <div>On the dry smooth-shaven green,</div> - <div>To behold the wandering moon</div> - <div>Riding near her highest noon,</div> - <div>Like one that had been led astray</div> - <div>Through the Heaven's wide pathles way,</div> - <div>And oft, as if her head she bowed,</div> - <div>Stooping through a fleecy cloud.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Oft on a Plat of rising ground,</div> - <div>I hear the far-off <i>Curfeu</i> sound</div> - <div>Over some wide-watered shoar,</div> - <div>Swinging slow with sullen roar:</div> - <div>Or if the Ayr will not permit,</div> - <div>Som still removèd place will fit,</div> - <div>Where glowing Embers through the room</div> - <div>Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,</div> - <div>Far from all resort of mirth,</div> - <div>Save the Cricket on the hearth,</div> - <div>Or the Belman's drousie charm</div> - <div>To bless the dores from nightly harm....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Milton</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_228">228</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CHIMES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Brief, on a flying night,</div> - <div class="i1">From the shaken tower,</div> - <div>A flock of bells take flight,</div> - <div class="i1">And go with the hour.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Like birds from the cote to the gales,</div> - <div class="i1">Abrupt—O hark!</div> - <div>A fleet of bells set sails,</div> - <div class="i1">And go to the dark.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sudden the cold airs swing,</div> - <div class="i1">Alone, aloud,</div> - <div>A verse of bells takes wing</div> - <div class="i1">And flies with the cloud.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Alice Meynell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_229">229</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CITIES DROWNED</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cities drowned in olden time</div> - <div>Keep, they say, a magic chime</div> - <div>Rolling up from far below</div> - <div>When the moon-led waters flow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So within me, ocean deep,</div> - <div>Lies a sunken world asleep.</div> - <div>Lest its bells forget to ring,</div> - <div>Memory! set the tide a-swing!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Henry Newbolt</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_230">230</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BELL-MAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>From noise of Scare-fires rest ye free,</div> - <div>From Murders—<i>Benedicite</i>.</div> - <div>From all mischances, that may fright</div> - <div>Your pleasing slumbers in the night:</div> - <div>Mercie secure ye all, and keep</div> - <div>The Goblin from ye, while ye sleep.</div> - <div>Past one aclock, and almost two,</div> - <div>My Masters all, <i>Good day to you</i>!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Herrick</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_217" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_217.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>AUTUMN LEAVES : WINTER SNOW.</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_231">231</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TO MEADOWS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ye have been fresh and green,</div> - <div class="i1">Ye have been filled with flowers:</div> - <div>And ye the Walks have been</div> - <div class="i1">Where Maids have spent their houres.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>You have beheld, how they</div> - <div class="i1">With <i>Wicker Arks</i> did come</div> - <div>To kisse, and beare away</div> - <div class="i1">The richer Couslips home.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ye have heard them sweetly sing</div> - <div class="i1">And seen them in a Round:</div> - <div>Each Virgin, like a Spring,</div> - <div class="i1">With Hony-succles crowned.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But now, we see, none here,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose silverie feet did tread,</div> - <div>And with dishevelled Haire,</div> - <div class="i1">Adorned this smoother Mead.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Like Unthrifts, having spent,</div> - <div class="i1">Your stock, and needy grown,</div> - <div>Ye are left here to lament</div> - <div class="i1">Your poore estates, alone.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Robert Herrick</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_232"><a href="#note_232">232</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The days are cold, the nights are long,</div> - <div>The North wind sings a doleful song;</div> - <div>Then hush again upon my breast;</div> - <div>All merry things are now at rest,</div> - <div class="i2">Save thee, my pretty love!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The kitten sleeps upon the hearth,</div> - <div>The crickets long have ceased their mirth;</div> - <div>There's nothing stirring in the house</div> - <div>Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse,</div> - <div class="i2">Then why so busy thou?</div> - <div>Nay! start not at the sparkling light;</div> - <div>'Tis but the moon that shines so bright</div> - <div class="i2">On the window-pane</div> - <div class="i2">Bedropped with rain:</div> - <div>Then, little darling! sleep again,</div> - <div class="i2">And wake when it is day.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Dorothy Wordsworth</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_233"><a href="#note_233">233</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TO AUTUMN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,</div> - <div class="i1">Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;</div> - <div>Conspiring with him how to load and bless</div> - <div class="i1">With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;</div> - <div>To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,</div> - <div class="i1">And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;</div> - <div class="i2">To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells</div> - <div class="i1">With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,</div> - <div class="i1">And still more, later flowers for the bees,</div> - <div class="i1">Until they think warm days will never cease,</div> - <div class="i2">For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?</div> - <div class="i1">Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find</div> - <div>Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,</div> - <div class="i1">Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></div> - <div>Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,</div> - <div class="i1">Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook</div> - <div class="i2">Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers:</div> - <div>And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep</div> - <div class="i1">Steady thy laden head across a brook;</div> - <div class="i1">Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,</div> - <div class="i2">Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?</div> - <div class="i1">Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—</div> - <div>While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,</div> - <div class="i1">And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;</div> - <div>Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn</div> - <div class="i1">Among the river-sallows, borne aloft</div> - <div class="i2">Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;</div> - <div>And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;</div> - <div class="i1">Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft</div> - <div class="i1">The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;</div> - <div class="i2">And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_234">234</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SOLITARY REAPER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Behold her, single in the field,</div> - <div>Yon solitary Highland Lass!</div> - <div>Reaping and singing by herself;</div> - <div>Stop here, or gently pass!</div> - <div>Alone she cuts and binds the grain,</div> - <div>And sings a melancholy strain;</div> - <div>O listen! for the vale profound</div> - <div>Is overflowing with the sound.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No nightingale did ever chaunt</div> - <div>More welcome notes to weary bands</div> - <div>Of travellers in some shady haunt,</div> - <div>Among Arabian sands:</div> - <div>A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard</div> - <div>In spring-time from the cuckoo bird.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></div> - <div>Breaking the silence of the seas</div> - <div>Among the farthest Hebrides.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Will no one tell me what she sings?—</div> - <div>Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow</div> - <div>For old, unhappy, far-off things,</div> - <div>And battles long ago;</div> - <div>Or is it some more humble lay,</div> - <div>Familiar matter of to-day?</div> - <div>Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,</div> - <div>That has been, and may be again?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang</div> - <div>As if her song could have no ending;</div> - <div>I saw her singing at her work,</div> - <div>And o'er the sickle bending;—</div> - <div>I listened, motionless and still;</div> - <div>And, as I mounted up the hill,</div> - <div>The music in my heart I bore</div> - <div>Long after it was heard no more.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Wordsworth</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_235">235</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"THE HEAVING ROSES OF THE HEDGE ARE STIRRED"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The heaving roses of the hedge are stirred</div> - <div>By the sweet breath of summer, and the bird</div> - <div>Makes from within his jocund voice be heard.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The winds that kiss the roses sweep the sea</div> - <div>Of uncut grass, whose billows rolling free</div> - <div>Half drown the hedges which part lea from lea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But soon shall look the wondering roses down</div> - <div>Upon an empty field cut close and brown,</div> - <div>That lifts no more its height against their own.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And in a little while those roses bright,</div> - <div>Leaf after leaf, shall flutter from their height,</div> - <div>And on the reapèd fields lie pink and white.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And yet again the bird that sings so high</div> - <div>Shall ask the snow for alms with piteous cry;</div> - <div>Take fright in his bewildering bower, and die.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Canon Dixon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_236">236</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AUTUMN</h4> -<p class="smcap center p-left">A Dirge</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,</div> - <div>The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying;</div> - <div class="i8">And the year</div> - <div>On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,</div> - <div class="i8">Is lying.</div> - <div class="i6">Come, months, come away,</div> - <div class="i6">From November to May,</div> - <div class="i6">In your saddest array;</div> - <div class="i6">Follow the bier</div> - <div class="i6">Of the dead cold year,</div> - <div>And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,</div> - <div>The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling</div> - <div class="i8">For the year;</div> - <div>The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone</div> - <div class="i8">To his dwelling.</div> - <div class="i6">Come, months, come away;</div> - <div class="i6">Put on white, black, and grey;</div> - <div class="i6">Let your light sisters play—</div> - <div class="i6">Ye, follow the bier</div> - <div class="i6">Of the dead cold year,</div> - <div>And make her grave green with tear on tear.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_237"><a href="#note_237">237</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"WHEN THAT I WAS AND A LITTLE TINY BOY"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When that I was and a little tinie boy,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With hey, ho, the winde and the raine</i>:</div> - <div>A foolish thing was but a toy,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the raine it raineth every day</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But when I came to man's estate,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With hey, ho, the winde and the raine</i>:</div> - <div>'Gainst Knaves and Theeves men shut their gate,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the raine it raineth every day</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But when I came, alas, to wive,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With hey, ho, the winde and the raine</i>:</div> - <div>By swaggering could I never thrive,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the raine it raineth every day</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But when I came unto my beds,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With hey, ho, the wind and the raine</i>,</div> - <div>With tos-pottes still had drunken heades,—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>For the raine it raineth every day</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A great while ago the world begon,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With hey, ho, the winde and the raine</i>,</div> - <div>But that's all one, our Play is done,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And we'll strive to please you every day</i>.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_238">238</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The feathers of the willow</div> - <div>Are half of them grown yellow</div> - <div class="i1">Above the swelling stream;</div> - <div>And ragged are the bushes,</div> - <div>And rusty are the rushes</div> - <div class="i1">And wild the clouded gleam.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The thistle now is older,</div> - <div>His stalk begins to moulder,</div> - <div class="i1">His head is white as snow;</div> - <div>The branches all are barer,</div> - <div>The linnet's song is rarer</div> - <div class="i1">The robin pipeth now.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Canon Dixon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_239">239</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FALL, LEAVES, FALL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;</div> - <div>Lengthen night and shorten day;</div> - <div>Every leaf speaks bliss to me,</div> - <div>Fluttering from the autumn tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I shall smile when wreaths of snow</div> - <div>Blossom where the rose should grow;</div> - <div>I shall sing when night's decay</div> - <div>Ushers in a drearier day.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Emily Brontë</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_240">240</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SANDS OF DEE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,</div> - <div class="i4">And call the cattle home,</div> - <div class="i4">And call the cattle home</div> - <div class="i2">Across the sands of Dee;"</div> - <div>The western wind was wild and dank with foam,</div> - <div class="i2">And all alone went she.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The western tide crept up along the sand,</div> - <div class="i4">And o'er and o'er the sand,</div> - <div class="i4">And round and round the sand,</div> - <div class="i2">As far as eye could see.</div> - <div>The rolling mist came down and hid the land:</div> - <div class="i2">And never home came she.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair—</div> - <div class="i4">A tress of golden hair,</div> - <div class="i4">A drownèd maiden's hair</div> - <div class="i2">Above the nets at sea?</div> - <div>Was never salmon yet that shone so fair</div> - <div class="i2">Among the stakes on Dee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They rowed her in across the rolling foam,</div> - <div class="i4">The cruel crawling foam,</div> - <div class="i4">The cruel hungry foam,</div> - <div class="i2">To her grave beside the sea:</div> - <div>But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home</div> - <div class="i2">Across the sands of Dee.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Charles Kingsley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_241">241</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BREAK, BREAK, BREAK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">On thy cold grey stones, O Sea!</div> - <div>And I would that my tongue could utter</div> - <div class="i1">The thoughts that arise in me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O well for the fisherman's boy,</div> - <div class="i1">That he shouts with his sister at play!</div> - <div>O well for the sailor lad,</div> - <div class="i1">That he sings in his boat on the bay!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the stately ships go on</div> - <div class="i1">To their haven under the hill;</div> - <div>But O for the touch of a vanished hand,</div> - <div class="i1">And the sound of a voice that is still!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Break, break, break,</div> - <div class="i1">At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!</div> - <div>But the tender grace of a day that is dead</div> - <div class="i1">Will never come back to me.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_242">242</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ODE TO THE WEST WIND</h4> -<p class="center p-left">I</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,</div> - <div>Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead</div> - <div>Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,</div> - <div>Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O, thou,</div> - <div>Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,</div> - <div>Each like a corpse within its grave, until</div> - <div>Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill</div> - <div>(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)</div> - <div>With living hues and odours plain and hill:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;</div> - <div>Destroyer and preserver; hear, O hear!</div> - </div> - -<p class="center p-left p2">II</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion,</div> - <div>Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,</div> - <div>Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread</div> - <div>On the blue surface of thine airy surge,</div> - <div>Like the bright hair uplifted from the head</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge</div> - <div>Of the horizon to the zenith's height</div> - <div>The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Of the dying year, to which this closing night</div> - <div>Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,</div> - <div>Vaulted with all thy congregated might</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere</div> - <div>Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: O hear!</div> - </div> - -<p class="center p-left p2">III<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams</div> - <div>The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,</div> - <div>Lulled by the coil of his crystàlline streams,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,</div> - <div>And saw in sleep old palaces and towers</div> - <div>Quivering within the wave's intenser day,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All overgrown with azure moss and flowers</div> - <div>So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou</div> - <div>For whose path the Atlantic's level powers</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below</div> - <div>The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear</div> - <div>The sapless foliage of the ocean, know</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear,</div> - <div>And tremble and despoil themselves: O hear!</div> - </div> - -<p class="center p-left p2">IV</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;</div> - <div>If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;</div> - <div>A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The impulse of thy strength, only less free</div> - <div>Than thou, O, uncontrollable! If even</div> - <div>I were as in my boyhood, and could be</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,</div> - <div>As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed</div> - <div>Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.</div> - <div>Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!</div> - <div>I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed</div> - <div>One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.</div> - </div> - -<p class="center p-left p2">V<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:</div> - <div>What if my leaves are falling like its own!</div> - <div>The tumult of thy mighty harmonies</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,</div> - <div>Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce,</div> - <div>My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Drive my dead thoughts over the universe</div> - <div>Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!</div> - <div>And, by the incantation of this verse,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth</div> - <div>Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!</div> - <div>Be through my lips to unawakened earth</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The trumpet of a prophecy! O, wind,</div> - <div>If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_243">243</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THAT WIND</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>That wind, I used to hear it swelling;</div> - <div>With joy divinely deep;</div> - <div>You might have seen my hot tears welling,</div> - <div>But rapture made me weep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I used to love on winter nights</div> - <div>To lie and dream alone</div> - <div>Of all the rare and real delights</div> - <div>My lonely years had known;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And oh!—above the best—of those</div> - <div>That coming time should bear,</div> - <div>Like heaven's own glorious stars they rose,</div> - <div>Still beaming bright and fair.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Emily Brontë</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_244">244</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A FROSTY NIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mother.</i><span class="i2">Alice, dear, what ails you,</span></div> - <div class="i5">Dazed and white and shaken?</div> - <div class="i5">Has the chill night numbed you?</div> - <div class="i5">Is it fright you have taken?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Alice.</i><span class="i2h">Mother, I am very well,</span></div> - <div class="i5">I felt never better;</div> - <div class="i5">Mother, do not hold me so,</div> - <div class="i5">Let me write my letter.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mother.</i><span class="i2">Sweet, my dear, what ails you?</span></div> - <div><i>Alice.</i><span class="i2h">No, but I am well.</span></div> - <div class="i5">The night was cold and frosty,</div> - <div class="i5">There's no more to tell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mother.</i><span class="i2">Ay, the night was frosty,</span></div> - <div class="i5">Coldly gaped the moon,</div> - <div class="i5">Yet the birds seemed twittering</div> - <div class="i5">Through green boughs of June.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">Soft and thick the snow lay,</div> - <div class="i5">Stars danced in the sky,</div> - <div class="i5">Not all the lambs of May-day</div> - <div class="i5">Skip so bold and high.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">Your feet were dancing, Alice,</div> - <div class="i5">Seemed to dance on air,</div> - <div class="i5">You looked a ghost or angel</div> - <div class="i5">In the starlight there.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i5">Your eyes were frosted starlight,</div> - <div class="i5">Your heart, fire, and snow.</div> - <div class="i5">Who was it said "I love you?"</div> - <div><i>Alice.</i><span class="i2h">Mother, let me go!</span></div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Graves</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_245"><a href="#note_245">245</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IN A DREAR-NIGHTED DECEMBER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In a drear-nighted December,</div> - <div class="i1">Too happy, happy tree,</div> - <div>Thy branches ne'er remember</div> - <div class="i1">Their green felicity:</div> - <div>The north cannot undo them</div> - <div>With a sleety whistle through them;</div> - <div>Nor frozen thawings glue them</div> - <div class="i2">From budding at the prime.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In a drear-nighted December,</div> - <div class="i1">Too happy, happy brook,</div> - <div>Thy bubblings ne'er remember</div> - <div class="i1">Apollo's summer look;</div> - <div>But with a sweet forgetting,</div> - <div>They stay their crystal fretting,</div> - <div>Never, never petting</div> - <div class="i2">About the frozen time.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ah! would 'twere so with many</div> - <div class="i1">A gentle girl and boy!</div> - <div>But were there ever any</div> - <div class="i1">Writhed not at passèd joy?</div> - <div>To know the change and feel it,</div> - <div>When there is none to heal it</div> - <div>Nor numbèd sense to steal it,</div> - <div class="i2">Was never said in rhyme.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_246"><a href="#note_246">246</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A SONG OF WINTER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cold cold!</div> - <div>Cold to-night is broad Moylurg,</div> - <div>Higher the snow than the mountain-range,</div> - <div>The deer cannot get at their food.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cold till Doom!</div> - <div>The storm has spread over all:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></div> - <div>A river is each furrow upon the slope,</div> - <div>Each ford a full pool.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A great tidal sea is each loch,</div> - <div>A full loch is each pool:</div> - <div>Horses cannot get over the ford of Ross,</div> - <div>No more can two feet get there.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The fish of Ireland are a-roaming,</div> - <div>There is no strand which the wave does not pound,</div> - <div>Not a town there is in the land,</div> - <div>Not a bell is heard, no crane talks.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The wolves of Cuan-wood get</div> - <div>Neither rest nor sleep in their lair,</div> - <div>The little wren cannot find</div> - <div>Shelter in her nest on the slope of Lon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Keen wind and cold ice</div> - <div>Has burst upon the little company of birds,</div> - <div>The blackbird cannot get a lee to her liking,</div> - <div>Shelter for its side in Cuan-wood.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cosy our pot on its hook,</div> - <div>Crazy the hut on the slope of Lon:</div> - <div>The snow has crushed the wood here,</div> - <div>Toilsome to climb up Ben-bo.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Glenn Rye's ancient bird</div> - <div>From the bitter wind gets grief;</div> - <div>Great her misery and her pain,</div> - <div>The ice will get into her mouth.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>From flock and from down to rise—</div> - <div>Take it to heart!—were folly for thee;</div> - <div>Ice in heaps on every ford—</div> - <div>That is why I say "cold"!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_247">247</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>COLD BLOWS THE WIND</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cauld blows the wind frae north to south,</div> - <div class="i1">And drift is driving sairly;</div> - <div>The sheep are couring<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> in the heugh,<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a></div> - <div class="i1">Oh sirs! it's winter fairly.</div> - <div>Now up in the morning's no' for me,</div> - <div class="i1">Up in the morning early;</div> - <div>I'd rather gae supperless to my bed,</div> - <div class="i1">Than rise in the morning early.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Loud rairs the blast amang the woods,</div> - <div class="i1">The branches tirling barely,</div> - <div>Amang the chimley taps it thuds,</div> - <div class="i1">And frost is nippin sairly.</div> - <div>Now up in the morning's no' for me,</div> - <div class="i1">Up in the morning early;</div> - <div>To sit a' the night I'd rather agree,</div> - <div class="i1">Than rise in the morning early.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The sun peeps o'er the southlan' hill,</div> - <div class="i1">Like ony tim'rous carlie<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a>;</div> - <div>Just blinks a wee, then sinks again,</div> - <div class="i1">And that we find severely.</div> - <div>Now up in the morning's no' for me,</div> - <div class="i1">Up in the morning early;</div> - <div>When snaw blaws into the chimley cheek,</div> - <div class="i1">Wha'd rise in the morning early.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Nae linties<a name="FNanchor_100_100" id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> lilt on hedge or bush,</div> - <div class="i1">Poor things, they suffer sairly;</div> - <div>In cauldrife<a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> quarters a' the night,</div> - <div class="i1">A' day they feed but sparely.</div> - <div>Now up in the morning's no' for me,</div> - <div class="i1">Up in the morning early;</div> - <div>Nae fate can be waur,<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> in winter time,</div> - <div class="i1">Than rise in the morning early.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Hamilton</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_248">248</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SKATING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... So through the darkness and the cold we flew,</div> - <div>And not a voice was idle; with the din</div> - <div>Smitten, the precipices rang aloud;</div> - <div>The leafless trees and every icy crag</div> - <div>Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills</div> - <div>Into the tumult sent an alien sound</div> - <div>Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars</div> - <div>Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west</div> - <div>The orange sky of evening died away.</div> - <div>Not seldom from the uproar I retired</div> - <div>Into a silent bay, or sportively</div> - <div>Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng,</div> - <div>To cut across the reflex of a star</div> - <div>That fled, and, flying still before me, gleamed</div> - <div>Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes,</div> - <div>When we had given our bodies to the wind,</div> - <div>And all the shadowy banks on either side</div> - <div>Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still</div> - <div>In rapid line of motion, then at once</div> - <div>Have I, reclining back upon my heels,</div> - <div>Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs</div> - <div>Wheeled by me—even as if the earth had rolled</div> - <div>With visible motion her diurnal round!</div> - <div>Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,</div> - <div>Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched</div> - <div>Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Wordsworth</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_249"><a href="#note_249">249</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LONDON SNOW</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When men were all asleep the snow came flying,</div> - <div>In large white flakes falling on the city brown,</div> - <div>Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,</div> - <div class="i1">Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;</div> - <div>Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;</div> - <div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></div> - <div>Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:</div> - <div class="i1">Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;</div> - <div>Hiding difference, making unevenness even,</div> - <div>Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.</div> - <div class="i1">All night it fell, and when full inches seven</div> - <div>It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,</div> - <div>The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;</div> - <div class="i1">And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness</div> - <div>Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:</div> - <div>The eye marvelled—marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;</div> - <div class="i1">The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;</div> - <div>No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,</div> - <div>And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.</div> - <div class="i1">Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,</div> - <div>They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze</div> - <div>Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;</div> - <div class="i1">Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;</div> - <div>Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder,</div> - <div>"O look at the trees!" they cried, "O look at the trees!"</div> - <div class="i1">With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,</div> - <div>Following along the white deserted way,</div> - <div>A country company long dispersed asunder:</div> - <div class="i1">When now already the sun, in pale display</div> - <div>Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below</div> - <div>His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.</div> - <div class="i1">For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow;</div> - <div>And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,</div> - <div>Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go:</div> - <div class="i1">But even for them awhile no cares encumber</div> - <div>Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken,</div> - <div>The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber</div> - <div class="hangingindent">At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm they have broken.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Robert Bridges</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_250">250</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FOR SNOW</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh the falling Snow!</div> - <div>Oh the falling Snow!</div> - <div>Where does it all come from?</div> - <div>Whither does it go?</div> - <div>Never never laughing,</div> - <div>Never never weeping,</div> - <div>Falling in its Sleep,</div> - <div>Forever ever sleeping—</div> - <div>From what Sleep of Heaven</div> - <div>Does it flow, and go</div> - <div>Into what Sleep of Earth,</div> - <div>The falling falling Snow?</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Eleanor Farjeon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_251"><a href="#note_251">251</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>VELVET SHOES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let us walk in the white snow</div> - <div class="i1">In a soundless space;</div> - <div>With footsteps quiet and slow,</div> - <div class="i1">At a tranquil pace,</div> - <div class="i1">Under veils of white lace.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I shall go shod in silk,</div> - <div class="i1">And you in wool,</div> - <div>White as a white cow's milk,</div> - <div class="i1">More beautiful</div> - <div class="i1">Than the breast of a gull.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We shall walk through the still town</div> - <div class="i1">In a windless peace;</div> - <div>We shall step upon white down,</div> - <div class="i1">Upon silver fleece,</div> - <div class="i1">Upon softer than these.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We shall walk in velvet shoes:</div> - <div class="i1">Wherever we go</div> - <div>Silence will fall like dews</div> - <div class="i1">On white silence below.</div> - <div class="i1">We shall walk in the snow.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Elinor Wylie</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_252">252</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LUCY GRAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:</div> - <div>And when I crossed the wild,</div> - <div>I chanced to see at break of day</div> - <div>The solitary child.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;</div> - <div>She dwelt on a wide moor,</div> - <div>The sweetest thing that ever grew</div> - <div>Beside a human door!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>You yet may spy the fawn at play,</div> - <div>The hare upon the green;</div> - <div>But the sweet face of Lucy Gray</div> - <div>Will never more be seen.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"To-night will be a stormy night—</div> - <div>You to the town must go;</div> - <div>And take a lantern, Child, to light</div> - <div>Your mother through the snow."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"That, Father! will I gladly do:</div> - <div>'Tis scarcely afternoon—</div> - <div>The minster-clock has just struck two,</div> - <div>And yonder is the moon!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At this the father raised his hook,</div> - <div>And snapped a faggot-band;</div> - <div>He plied his work;—and Lucy took</div> - <div>The lantern in her hand.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Not blither is the mountain roe:</div> - <div>With many a wanton stroke</div> - <div>Her feet disperse the powdery snow,</div> - <div>That rises up like smoke.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The storm came on before its time:</div> - <div>She wandered up and down;</div> - <div>And many a hill did Lucy climb:</div> - <div>But never reached the town.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The wretched parents all that night</div> - <div>Went shouting far and wide;</div> - <div>But there was neither sound nor sight</div> - <div>To serve them for a guide.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At day-break on a hill they stood</div> - <div>That overlook'd the moor;</div> - <div>And thence they saw the bridge of wood</div> - <div>A furlong from their door.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They wept—and, turning homeward, cried</div> - <div>"In heaven we all shall meet!"</div> - <div>—When in the snow the mother spied</div> - <div>The print of Lucy's feet.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then downwards from the steep hill's edge</div> - <div>They tracked the footmarks small;</div> - <div>And through the broken hawthorn hedge,</div> - <div>And by the long stone-wall:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And then an open field they crossed,</div> - <div>The marks were still the same;</div> - <div>They tracked them on, nor ever lost;</div> - <div>And to the bridge they came:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They followed from the snowy bank</div> - <div>Those footmarks, one by one,</div> - <div>Into the middle of the plank;</div> - <div>And further there were none!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>—Yet some maintain that to this day</div> - <div>She is a living child;</div> - <div>That you may see sweet Lucy Gray</div> - <div>Upon the lonesome wild.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O'er rough and smooth she trips along,</div> - <div>And never looks behind;</div> - <div>And sings a solitary song</div> - <div>That whistles in the wind.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Wordsworth</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_253"><a href="#note_253">253</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GONE WERE BUT THE WINTER COLD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Gane were but the winter cauld,</div> - <div class="i1">And gane were but the snaw,</div> - <div>I could sleep in the wild woods,</div> - <div class="i1">Where primroses blaw.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Cauld's the snaw at my head,</div> - <div class="i1">And cauld at my feet,</div> - <div>And the finger o' death is at my e'en</div> - <div class="i1">Closing them to sleep,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Let nane tell my father,</div> - <div class="i1">Or my mither sae dear;</div> - <div>I'll meet them baith in heaven</div> - <div class="i1">At the Spring o' the year."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Allan Cunningham</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_254">254</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A CHILD'S WINTER EVENING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The smothering dark engulfs relentlessly</div> - <div>With nightmare tread approaching steadfastly;</div> - <div>All horrors thicken as the daylight fails</div> - <div>And, is it wind, or some lost ghost that wails?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tongue cannot tell the stories that beset,</div> - <div>With livid pictures blackness dense as jet,</div> - <div>Or that wild questioning—whence we are; and why;</div> - <div>If death is darkness; and why I am I.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The children look through the uneven pane</div> - <div>Out to the world, to bring them joy again;</div> - <div>But only snowflakes melting into mire</div> - <div>Without, within the red glow of the fire.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They long for something wonderful to break</div> - <div>This long-drawn winter wistfulness, and take</div> - <div>Shape in the darkness; threatening like Fate</div> - <div>There comes a hell-like crackling from the grate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But hand in hand they urge themselves anear</div> - <div>And watch the cities burning bright and clear;</div> - <div>Faces diabolical and cliffs and halls</div> - <div>And strangely-pinnacled, molten castle walls.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tall figures flicker on the ceiling stark</div> - <div>Then grimly fade into one ominous dark;</div> - <div>Dream terrors iron-bound throng on them apace,</div> - <div>And dusk with fire, and flames with shadows race.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Gwen John</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_255"><a href="#note_255">255</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A CAROL FOR SAINT STEPHEN'S DAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Seynt Stevene was a clerk,</div> - <div class="i1">In kyng Herowdės halle,</div> - <div>And servyd him of bred and cloth,</div> - <div class="i1">As every kyng befalle.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Stevyn out of Kechoun cam,</div> - <div class="i1">Wyth boris bed on honde,</div> - <div>He saw a sterr was fayr and bryght</div> - <div class="i1">Over Bedlem stonde.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He kyst adoun the bores hed,</div> - <div class="i1">And went into the halle:</div> - <div>"I forsake the, kyng Herowde,</div> - <div class="i1">And thi werkės alle.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I forsak the, kyng Herowde,</div> - <div class="i1">And thi werkės alle:</div> - <div>Ther is a chyld, in Bedlem born,</div> - <div class="i1">Is better than we alle."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Quhat eylyt the, Stevene?</div> - <div class="i1">Quhat is the befalle?</div> - <div>Lakkyt the eyther mete or drynk</div> - <div class="i1">In kyng Herowdės halle?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Lakyt me neyther mete ne drynk</div> - <div class="i1">In kyng Herowdės halle;</div> - <div>Ther is a chyld, in Bedlem born,</div> - <div class="i1">Is better than we alle."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Quhat eylyt the, Stevyn, art thu wod?</div> - <div class="i1">Or thu gynnyst to brede?</div> - <div>Lakyt the eyther gold or fe,</div> - <div class="i1">Or ony rychė wede?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Lakyt me neyther gold ne fe,</div> - <div class="i1">Ne non rychė wede;</div> - <div>Ther is a chyld, in Bedlem born,</div> - <div class="i1">Shal helpyn us at our nede."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"That is al so soth, Stevyn,</div> - <div class="i1">Al so soth, I wys,</div> - <div>As this capon crowė schel</div> - <div class="i1">That lyth her in myn dych."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>That word was not so sonė seyd,</div> - <div class="i1">That wordė in that halle,</div> - <div>The capon crew, <i>Christus natus est!</i></div> - <div class="i1">Among the lordės alle.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Rysyt up, myn túrmentowres</div> - <div class="i1">Be to and al be on,</div> - <div>And ledyt Stevyn out of this town,</div> - <div class="i1">And stonyt hym wyth ston."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tokyn hem Stevene,</div> - <div class="i1">And stonyd hym in the way:</div> - <div>And therfor is his evyn</div> - <div class="i1">On Crystės owyn day.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_256">256</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BURNING BABE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I in hoary winter's night</div> - <div class="i1">Stood shivering in the snow,</div> - <div>Surprised I was with sudden heat,</div> - <div class="i1">Which made my heart to glow;</div> - <div>And lifting up a fearful eye</div> - <div class="i1">To view what fire was near,</div> - <div>A pretty babe all burning bright,</div> - <div class="i1">Did in the air appear:</div> - <div>Who, scorchèd with excessive heat,</div> - <div class="i1">Such floods of tears did shed,</div> - <div>As though his floods should quench his flames,</div> - <div class="i1">Which with his tears were fed:</div> - <div>"Alas!" quoth he, "but newly born,</div> - <div class="i1">In fiery heats I fry,<a name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a></div> - <div>Yet none approach to warm their hearts</div> - <div class="i1">Or feel my fire, but I!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My faultless breast the furnace is,</div> - <div class="i1">The fuel wounding thorns;</div> - <div>Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke,</div> - <div class="i1">The ashes shames and scorns;</div> - <div>The fuel Justice layeth on,</div> - <div class="i1">And Mercy blows the coals;</div> - <div>The metal in this furnace wrought</div> - <div class="i1">Are men's defilèd souls:</div> - <div>For which, as now on fire I am,</div> - <div class="i1">To work them to their good,</div> - <div>So will I melt into a bath,</div> - <div class="i1">To wash them in my blood."</div> - <div>With this he vanished out of sight,</div> - <div class="i1">And swiftly shrunk away,</div> - <div>And straight I called unto my mind</div> - <div class="i1">That it was Christmas Day.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Southwell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_257"><a href="#note_257">257</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE HOLLY AND THE IVY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The holly and the ivy,</div> - <div class="i1">Now both are full-well grown,</div> - <div>Of all the trees that are in the wood,</div> - <div class="i1">The holly bears the crown.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>O the rising of the sun,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>The running of the deer,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>The playing of the merry Organ,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>Sweet singing in the quire.</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>Sweet singing in the quire.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The holly bears a blossom,</div> - <div class="i1">As white as lily-flower;</div> - <div>And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,</div> - <div class="i1">To be our sweet Saviour.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>O the rising of the sun</i>,...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The holly bears a berry,</div> - <div class="i1">As red as any blood;</div> - <div>And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,</div> - <div class="i1">To do poor sinners good.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>O the rising of the sun</i>,...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The holly bears a prickle,</div> - <div class="i1">As sharp as any thorn;</div> - <div>And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,</div> - <div class="i1">On Christmas Day in the morn.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>O the rising of the sun</i>,...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The holly bears a bark,</div> - <div class="i1">As bitter as any gall;</div> - <div>And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,</div> - <div class="i1">For to redeem us all.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>O the rising of the sun</i>,...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The holly and the ivy,</div> - <div class="i1">Now both are full well grown,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></div> - <div>Of all the trees that are in the wood,</div> - <div class="i1">The holly bears the crown.</div> - <div class="i2"></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2"><i>O the rising of the sun,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>The running of the deer,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>The playing of the merry Organ,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>Sweet singing in the quire.</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>Sweet singing in the quire.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_258"><a href="#note_258">258</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WELCOME YULE!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Wolcum be thu, hevene kyng,</div> - <div>Wolcum, born in on morwenyng,</div> - <div>Wolcum for home<a name="FNanchor_104_104" id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a> we shal syng,</div> - <div class="i2">Wolcum yol.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wolcum be ye Stefne and Jon,</div> - <div>Wolcum Innocentes everychon,</div> - <div>Wolcum Thomas martyr on,</div> - <div class="i2">Wolcum yol.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wolcum be ye, good newe yere,</div> - <div>Wolcum twelthe-day, bothe infer,<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a></div> - <div>Wolcum syentės lef<a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> and der,</div> - <div class="i2">Wolcum yol.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wolcum be ye Candylmesse,</div> - <div>Wolcum be ye qwyn of blys,</div> - <div>Wolcum both to mor and lesse,</div> - <div class="i2">Wolcum yol.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wolcum be ye that am her,<a name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a></div> - <div>Wolcum alle and mak good cher,</div> - <div>Wolcum alle another yer,</div> - <div class="i2">Wolcum yol.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_259"><a href="#note_259">259</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>NAY, IVY, NAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1"><i>Nay, Ivy, nay,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>Hyt shal not be, I wys;</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Let Holy hafe the maystry,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>As the maner<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> ys.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Holy stond in the halle,</div> - <div class="i1">Fayre to behold;</div> - <div>Ivy stond wythout the dore,</div> - <div class="i1">She ys ful sore a-cold.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>Nay, Ivy, nay</i> ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Holy and hys mery men,</div> - <div class="i1">They dawnsyn and they syng;</div> - <div>Ivy and hur maydenys,</div> - <div class="i1">They wepyn and they wryng.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>Nay, Ivy, nay</i> ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ivy hath a kybe,<a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a></div> - <div class="i1">She kaght yt wyth the colde,</div> - <div>So mot thay all haf ae,</div> - <div class="i1">That wyth Ivy hold.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>Nay, Ivy, nay</i> ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Holy hath berys,</div> - <div class="i1">As rede as any rose,</div> - <div>The foster<a name="FNanchor_110_110" id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> and the hunter</div> - <div class="i1">Kepe hem<a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> fro the doos.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>Nay, Ivy, nay</i> ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ivy hath berys,</div> - <div class="i1">As blake as any slo,</div> - <div>Ther com the oulė,</div> - <div class="i1">And ete hym as she goo.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>Nay, Ivy, nay</i> ...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Holy hath byrdys,</div> - <div class="i1">A ful fayre flok,</div> - <div>The nyghtyngale, the poppynguy,</div> - <div class="i1">The gayntyl lavyrok.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>Nay, Ivy, nay</i> ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Gode Ivy [tell me]</div> - <div class="i1">What byrdys ast thu?<a name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></div> - <div>Non but the howlat,</div> - <div class="i1">That kreye<a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> how, how!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1"><i>Nay, Ivy, nay,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>Hyt shal not be, I wys,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Let Holy hafe the maystry,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>As the maner ys.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_260"><a href="#note_260">260</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TU-WHIT TO-WHO</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When Isicles hang by the wall,</div> - <div class="i1">And Dicke the shepheard blowes his naile,</div> - <div>And Tom beares Logges into the hall,</div> - <div class="i1">And Milke comes frozen home in paile:</div> - <div>When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,</div> - <div>Then nightly sings the staring Owle,</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Tu-whit to-who</i></div> - <div class="i4">A merrie note,</div> - <div>While greasie Jone doth keele<a name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> the pot.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When all aloud the winde doth blow,</div> - <div class="i1">And coifing drownes the Parson's saw;</div> - <div>And birds sit brooding in the snow,</div> - <div class="i1">And Marrian's nose lookes red and raw;</div> - <div>When roasted Crabs<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> hisse in the bowle,</div> - <div>Then nightly sings the staring Owle,</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Tu-whit to-who</i></div> - <div class="i4">A merrie note,</div> - <div>While greasy Jone doth keele the pot.</div> - </div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_261">261</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">Blow, blow, thou winter winde,</div> - <div class="i4">Thou art not so unkinde</div> - <div class="i8">As man's ingratitude;</div> - <div class="i4">Thy tooth is not so keene,</div> - <div class="i4">Because thou art not seene,</div> - <div class="i8">Although thy breath be rude.</div> - <div>Heigh ho! sing heigh ho, unto the green holly,</div> - <div>Most friendship is fayning, most Loving meere folly:</div> - <div class="i4">Then heigh ho, the holly,</div> - <div class="i4">This Life is most jolly.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">Freize, freize, thou bitter skie,</div> - <div class="i4">That dost not bight so nigh</div> - <div class="i8">As benefitts forgot;</div> - <div class="i4">Though thou the waters warpe,</div> - <div class="i4">Thy sting is not so sharpe,</div> - <div class="i8">As friend remembered not.</div> - <div>Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly,</div> - <div>Most friendship is fayning, most Loving meere folly:</div> - <div class="i4">Then heigh ho, the holly,</div> - <div class="i4">This Life is most jolly.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_249" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_249.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>"LIKE STARS UPON SOME GLOOMY GROVE"</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_262">262</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SPRING QUIET</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Gone were but the Winter,</div> - <div class="i1">Come were but the Spring,</div> - <div>I would go to a covert</div> - <div class="i1">Where the birds sing.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where in the whitethorn</div> - <div class="i1">Singeth a thrush,</div> - <div>And a robin sings</div> - <div class="i1">In the holly-bush.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Full of fresh scents</div> - <div class="i1">Are the budding boughs</div> - <div>Arching high over</div> - <div class="i1">A cool green house:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Full of sweet scents,</div> - <div class="i1">And whispering air</div> - <div>Which sayeth softly:</div> - <div class="i1">"We spread no snare;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Here dwell in safety,</div> - <div class="i1">Here dwell alone,</div> - <div>With a clear stream</div> - <div class="i1">And a mossy stone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Here the sun shineth</div> - <div class="i1">Most shadily;</div> - <div>Here is heard an echo</div> - <div class="i1">Of the far sea,</div> - <div class="i1">Though far off it be."</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Christina Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_263">263</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A WIDOW BIRD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A widow bird sat mourning for her love</div> - <div class="i3">Upon a wintry bough;</div> - <div>The frozen wind crept on above,</div> - <div class="i3">The freezing stream below.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was no leaf upon the forest bare,</div> - <div class="i3">No flower upon the ground,</div> - <div>And little motion in the air</div> - <div class="i3">Except the mill-wheel's sound.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_264"><a href="#note_264">264</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ECHO'S LAMENT FOR NARCISSUS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears;</div> - <div class="i1">Yet, slower yet; O faintly, gentle springs;</div> - <div>List to the heavy part the music bears;</div> - <div class="i1">Woe weeps out her division when she sings.</div> - <div class="i4">Droop herbs and flowers;</div> - <div class="i4">Fall grief in showers,</div> - <div class="i4">Our beauties are not ours;</div> - <div class="i6">O, I could still,</div> - <div>Like melting snow upon some craggy hill,</div> - <div class="i4">Drop, drop, drop, drop,</div> - <div>Since nature's pride is now a withered daffodil.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Ben Jonson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_265"><a href="#note_265">265</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THIS LIFE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">This Life, which seems so fair,</div> - <div class="i2">Is like a bubble blown up in the air</div> - <div class="i4">By sporting children's breath,</div> - <div class="i4">Who chase it everywhere,</div> - <div>And strive who can most motion it bequeath.</div> - <div>And though it sometimes seem of its own might</div> - <div>Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there,</div> - <div>And firm to hover in that empty height,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></div> - <div>That only is because it is so light.</div> - <div class="i1">But in that pomp it doth not long appear;</div> - <div>For when' tis most admired—in a thought,</div> - <div>Because it erst<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a> was nought, it turns to nought.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Drummond</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_266"><a href="#note_266">266</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SWEET CONTENT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?</div> - <div class="i6">O, sweet content!</div> - <div>Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed?</div> - <div class="i6">O, punishment!</div> - <div>Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed</div> - <div>To add to golden numbers golden numbers?</div> - <div>O, sweet content! O, sweet, O sweet content!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Work apace, apace, apace, apace;</div> - <div class="i1">Honest labour bears a lovely face;</div> - <div class="i1">Then hey nonny, hey nonny, nonny!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring?</div> - <div class="i6">O, sweet content!</div> - <div>Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?</div> - <div class="i6">O, punishment!</div> - <div>Then he that patiently want's burden bears,</div> - <div>No burden bears, but is a king, a king!</div> - <div>O, sweet content! O, sweet, O, sweet content!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Work apace, apace, apace, apace;</div> - <div class="i1">Honest labour bears a lovely face;</div> - <div class="i1">Then hey nonny, hey nonny, nonny!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Thomas Dekker</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_267">267</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OH, SWEET CONTENT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh, sweet content, that turns the labourer's sweat</div> - <div class="i1">To tears of joy, and shines the roughest face;</div> - <div>How often have I sought you high and low,</div> - <div class="i1">And found you still in some lone quiet place;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here, in my room, when full of happy dreams,</div> - <div class="i1">With no life heard beyond that merry sound</div> - <div>Of moths that on my lighted ceiling kiss</div> - <div class="i1">Their shadows as they dance and dance around;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Or in a garden, on a summer's night,</div> - <div class="i1">When I have seen the dark and solemn air</div> - <div>Blink with the blind bats' wings, and heaven's bright face</div> - <div class="i1">Twitch with the stars that shine in thousands there.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William H. Davies</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_268">268</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>RARELY, RARELY, COMEST THOU</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Rarely, rarely, comest thou,</div> - <div class="i2">Spirit of Delight!</div> - <div>Wherefore hast thou left me now</div> - <div class="i2">Many a day and night?</div> - <div>Many a weary night and day</div> - <div>'Tis since thou art fled away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How shall ever one like me</div> - <div class="i2">Win thee back again?</div> - <div>With the joyous and the free</div> - <div class="i2">Thou wilt scoff at pain.</div> - <div>Spirit false! thou hast forgot</div> - <div>All but those who need thee not.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As a lizard with the shade</div> - <div class="i2">Of a trembling leaf,</div> - <div>Thou with sorrow art dismayed;</div> - <div class="i2">Even the sighs of grief</div> - <div>Reproach thee, that thou art not near,</div> - <div>And reproach thou wilt not hear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let me set my mournful ditty</div> - <div class="i2">To a merry measure,</div> - <div>Thou wilt never come for pity,</div> - <div class="i2">Thou wilt come for pleasure.</div> - <div>Pity then will cut away,</div> - <div>Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I love all that thòu lovest,</div> - <div class="i2">Spirit of Delight!</div> - <div>The fresh Earth in new leaves drest,</div> - <div class="i2">And the starry night,</div> - <div>Autumn evening, and the morn</div> - <div>When the golden mists are born.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I love snow, and all the forms</div> - <div class="i2">Of the radiant frost;</div> - <div>I love waves, and winds, and storms,</div> - <div class="i2">Everything almost</div> - <div>Which is Nature's, and may be</div> - <div>Untainted by man's misery.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I love tranquil solitude</div> - <div class="i2">And such society</div> - <div>As is quiet, wise, and good;</div> - <div class="i2">Between thee and me</div> - <div>What difference? but thou dost possess</div> - <div>The things I seek, not love them less.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I love Love—though he has wings,</div> - <div class="i2">And like light can flee,</div> - <div>But above all other things,</div> - <div class="i2">Spirit, I love thee—</div> - <div>Thou art love and life! O come,</div> - <div>Make once more my heart thy home!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_269"><a href="#note_269">269</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BIRTHRIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lord Rameses of Egypt sighed</div> - <div>Because a summer evening passed;</div> - <div>And little Ariadne cried</div> - <div>That summer fancy fell at last</div> - <div>To dust; and young Verona died</div> - <div>When beauty's hour was overcast.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Theirs was the bitterness we know</div> - <div>Because the clouds of hawthorn keep</div> - <div>So short a state, and kisses go</div> - <div>To tombs unfathomably deep,</div> - <div>While Rameses and Romeo</div> - <div>And little Ariadne sleep.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">John Drinkwater</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_270">270</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>O SORROW!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">... "O Sorrow,</div> - <div class="i6">Why dost borrow</div> - <div>The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?—</div> - <div class="i6">To give maiden blushes</div> - <div class="i6">To the white rose bushes?</div> - <div>Or is't thy dewy hand the daisy tips?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">"O Sorrow,</div> - <div class="i6">Why dost borrow</div> - <div>The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye?—</div> - <div class="i6">To give the glow-worm light?</div> - <div class="i6">Or, on a moonless night,</div> - <div>To tinge, on siren shores, the salt sea-spry?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">"O Sorrow,</div> - <div class="i6">Why dost borrow</div> - <div>The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue?—</div> - <div class="i6">To give at evening pale</div> - <div class="i6">Unto the nightingale,</div> - <div>That thou mayst listen the cold dews among?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">"O sorrow,</div> - <div class="i6">Why dost borrow</div> - <div>Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?—</div> - <div class="i6">A lover would not tread</div> - <div class="i6">A cowslip on the head,</div> - <div>Though he should dance from eve till peep of day—</div> - <div class="i6">Nor any drooping flower</div> - <div class="i6">Held sacred for thy bower,</div> - <div>Wherever he may sport himself and play.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">"To Sorrow,</div> - <div class="i6">I bade good-morrow,</div> - <div>And thought to leave her far away behind;</div> - <div class="i6">But cheerly, cheerly,</div> - <div class="i6">She loves me dearly;</div> - <div>She is so constant, to me, and so kind:</div> - <div class="i6">I could deceive her</div> - <div class="i6">And so leave her,</div> - <div>But oh! she is so constant and so kind....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">"Come then, Sorrow!</div> - <div class="i6">Sweetest Sorrow!</div> - <div>Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast:</div> - <div class="i6">I thought to leave thee</div> - <div class="i6">And deceive thee,</div> - <div>But now of all the world I love thee best.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">"There is not one,</div> - <div class="i6">No, no, not one</div> - <div>But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid;</div> - <div class="i6">Thou art her mother,</div> - <div class="i6">And her brother,</div> - <div>Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade."...</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_271">271</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">When the lamp is shattered,</div> - <div>The light in the dust lies dead—</div> - <div class="i1">When the cloud is scattered</div> - <div>The rainbow's glory is shed.</div> - <div class="i1">When the lute is broken,</div> - <div>Sweet tones are remembered not;</div> - <div class="i1">When the lips have spoken,</div> - <div>Loved accents are soon forgot.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">As music and splendour</div> - <div>Survive not the lamp and the lute,</div> - <div class="i1">The heart's echoes render</div> - <div>No song when the spirit is mute:—</div> - <div class="i1">No song but sad dirges,</div> - <div>Like the wind through a ruined cell,</div> - <div class="i1">Or the mournful surges</div> - <div>That ring the dead seaman's knell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">When hearts have once mingled</div> - <div>Love first leaves the well-built nest;</div> - <div class="i1">The weak one is singled</div> - <div>To endure what it once possest.</div> - <div class="i1">O Love, who bewailest</div> - <div>The frailty of all things here,</div> - <div class="i1">Why choose you the frailest</div> - <div>For your cradle, your home, and your bier?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Its passions will rock thee</div> - <div>As the storm rocks the ravens on high:</div> - <div class="i1">Bright reason will mock thee,</div> - <div>Like the sun from a wintry sky.</div> - <div class="i1">From thy nest every rafter</div> - <div>Will rot, and thine eagle home</div> - <div class="i1">Leave thee to naked laughter,</div> - <div>When leaves fall and cold winds come.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_272"><a href="#note_272">272</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ONCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">He sees them pass</div> - <div class="i2">As the light is graying,</div> - <div class="i1">Each lad and lass</div> - <div class="i2">In their beauty gaying</div> - <div>And a voice in his aching heart is saying:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"Once—once even I</div> - <div class="i2">Was straight as these,</div> - <div class="i1">As clear of eye,</div> - <div class="i2">And as apt to please</div> - <div>When I tuned my voice to balladries.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Now my eyes are dim,</div> - <div class="i2">Their old fires forsaking,</div> - <div class="i1">And each wasted limb</div> - <div class="i2">As a branch is shaking,</div> - <div>And my grief-bowed heart will soon be breaking.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">—Ah, if One comes not</div> - <div class="i2">Beckoning nigh</div> - <div class="i1">To that land where hums not</div> - <div class="i2">One small fly,</div> - <div>These Strong and Fair shall be as I."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Eric N. Batterham</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_273"><a href="#note_273">273</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UPON THE IMAGE OF DEATH</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Before my face the picture hangs</div> - <div class="i1">That dailie should put me in minde</div> - <div>Of those cold qualms and bitter pangs</div> - <div class="i1">That shortly I am like to finde:</div> - <div class="i2">But yet, alas! full little I</div> - <div class="i2">Do think hereon, that I must die.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I often look upon a face</div> - <div class="i1">Most uglie, grislie, bare, and thin;</div> - <div>I often view the hollow place</div> - <div class="i1">Where eyes and nose have sometime been;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></div> - <div class="i2">I see the bones across that lie;</div> - <div class="i2">Yet little think, that I must die.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I read the label underneathe,</div> - <div class="i1">That telleth me whereto I must:</div> - <div>I see the sentence eke that saithe</div> - <div class="i1">"Remember, man, that thou art duste;"</div> - <div class="i2">But yet, alas, but seldom I</div> - <div class="i2">Do think indeed, that I must die!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Continually at my bed's head</div> - <div class="i1">An hearse doth hang, which doth me tell</div> - <div>That I, ere morning, may be dead,</div> - <div class="i1">Though now I feel myself full well:</div> - <div class="i2">But yet, alas, for all this, I</div> - <div class="i2">Have little minde that I must die!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The gowne which I do use to weare,</div> - <div class="i1">The knife, wherewith I cut my meate,</div> - <div>And eke that old and ancient chair</div> - <div class="i1">Which is my only usual seate,</div> - <div class="i2">All these do tell me I must die;</div> - <div class="i2">And yet my life amende not I!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My ancestors are turned to clay,</div> - <div class="i1">And many of my mates are gone;</div> - <div>My youngers daily drop away;—</div> - <div class="i1">And can I think to 'scape alone?</div> - <div class="i2">No, no, I know that I must die;</div> - <div class="i2">And yet my life amende not I!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Not Solomon, for all his wit,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor Samson, though he were so strong,</div> - <div>No king, nor ever person yet,</div> - <div class="i1">Could 'scape, but Death laid him along!</div> - <div class="i2">Wherefore I know that I must die;</div> - <div class="i2">And yet my life amende not I!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though all the east did quake to hear</div> - <div class="i1">Of Alexander's dreadful name,</div> - <div>And all the west did likewise fear</div> - <div class="i1">The sound of Julius Caesar's fame,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></div> - <div class="i2">Yet both by death in duste now lie;</div> - <div class="i2">Who then can 'scape, but he must die?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If none can 'scape Death's dreadful darte,</div> - <div class="i1">If rich and poor his beck obey,</div> - <div>If strong, if wise, if all do smarte,</div> - <div class="i1">Then I to 'scape shall have no way.</div> - <div class="i2">O grant me grace, O God, that I</div> - <div class="i2">My life may mende, sith I must die!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Southwell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_274"><a href="#note_274">274</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ADIEU! FAREWELL EARTH'S BLISS!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Adieu! farewell earth's bliss!</div> - <div>This world uncertain is:</div> - <div>Fond are life's lustful joys,</div> - <div>Death proves them all but toys.</div> - <div>None from his darts can fly:</div> - <div>I am sick, I must die—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Rich men, trust not in wealth,</div> - <div>Gold cannot buy you health;</div> - <div>Physic himself must fade;</div> - <div>All things to end are made;</div> - <div>The plague full swift goes by:</div> - <div>I am sick, I must die—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Beauty is but a flower</div> - <div>Which wrinkles will devour:</div> - <div>Brightness falls from the air;</div> - <div>Queens have died young and fair</div> - <div>Dust hath closed Helen's eye:</div> - <div>I am sick, I must die—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Strength stoops unto the grave</div> - <div>Worms feed on Hector brave;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></div> - <div>Swords may not fight with fate;</div> - <div>Earth still holds ope her gate;</div> - <div><i>Come! come!</i> the bells do cry:</div> - <div>I am sick, I must die—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wit with his wantonness,</div> - <div>Tasteth death's bitterness.</div> - <div>Hell's executioner</div> - <div>Hath no ears for to hear</div> - <div>What vain art can reply.</div> - <div>I am sick, I must die—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Haste, therefore, each degree</div> - <div>To welcome destiny!</div> - <div>Heaven is our heritage;</div> - <div>Earth but a player's stage.</div> - <div>Mount we unto the sky!</div> - <div>I am sick, I must die—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Nash</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_275"><a href="#note_275">275</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MESSAGES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What shall I your true-love tell,</div> - <div class="i1">Earth-forsaking maid?</div> - <div>What shall I your true-love tell,</div> - <div class="i1">When life's spectre's laid?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Tell him that, our side the grave,</div> - <div class="i1">Maid may not conceive</div> - <div>Life should be so sad to have,</div> - <div class="i1">That's so sad to leave!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What shall I your true-love tell,</div> - <div class="i1">When I come to him?</div> - <div>What shall I your true-love tell—</div> - <div class="i1">Eyes growing dim!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Tell him this, when you shall part</div> - <div class="i1">From a maiden pined;</div> - <div>That I see him with my heart,</div> - <div class="i1">Now my eyes are blind."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What shall I your true-love tell?</div> - <div class="i1">Speaking-while is scant.</div> - <div>What shall I your true-love tell,</div> - <div class="i1">Death's white postulant?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Tell him—love, with speech at strife,</div> - <div class="i1">For last utterance saith:</div> - <div>I, who loved with all my life,</div> - <div class="i1">Love with all my death."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Francis Thompson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_276">276</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DOUBTS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When she sleeps, her soul, I know,</div> - <div>Goes a wanderer on the air,</div> - <div>Wings where I may never go,</div> - <div>Leaves her lying, still and fair,</div> - <div>Waiting, empty, laid aside,</div> - <div>Like a dress upon a chair....</div> - <div>This I know, and yet I know</div> - <div>Doubts that will not be denied.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For if the soul be not in place,</div> - <div>What has laid trouble in her face?</div> - <div>And, sits there nothing ware and wise</div> - <div>Behind the curtains of her eyes,</div> - <div>What is it, in the self's eclipse,</div> - <div>Shadows, soft and passingly,</div> - <div>About the corners of her lips,</div> - <div>The smile that is essential she?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And if the spirit be not there,</div> - <div>Why is fragrance in the hair?</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Rupert Brooke</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_277"><a href="#note_277">277</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HARK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hark! now everything is still,</div> - <div>The screech-owl and the whistler shrill</div> - <div>Call upon our dame aloud,</div> - <div>And bid her quickly don her shroud.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Much you had of land and rent;</div> - <div>Your length in clay's now competent.</div> - <div>A long war disturbed your mind;</div> - <div>Here your perfect peace is signed.</div> - <div>Of what is't fools make such vain keeping?—</div> - <div>Sin their conception, their birth weeping,</div> - <div>Their life a general mist of error,</div> - <div>Their death a hideous storm of terror.</div> - <div>Strew your hair with powders sweet,</div> - <div>Don clean linen, bathe your feet,</div> - <div>And (the foul fiend more to check)</div> - <div>A crucifix let bless your neck:</div> - <div>'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day;</div> - <div>End your groan, and come away.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Webster</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_278"><a href="#note_278">278</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This ae nighte, this ae nighte,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>Fire and sleet and candle-lighte,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When thou from hence away art past,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>To Whinny-muir thou comest at last;</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>Sit thee down and put them on;</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane;</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>From Whinny-muir that thou may'st pass,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>To Brig o' Dread thou comest at last,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>From Brig o' Dread that thou may'st pass,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If ever thou gavest meat or drink,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>The fire sall never make thee shrink;</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If meat and drink thou ne'er gav'st nane</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>The fire will burn thee to the bare bane,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This ae nighte, this ae nighte,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Every nighte and alle</i>,</div> - <div>Fire and sleet and candle-lighte,</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_279"><a href="#note_279">279</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HE IS THE LONELY GREATNESS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He is the lonely greatness of the world—</div> - <div class="i7">(His eyes are dim),</div> - <div>His power it is holds up the Cross</div> - <div class="i7">That holds up Him.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He takes the sorrow of the threefold hour—</div> - <div class="i7">(His eyelids close),</div> - <div>Round Him and round, the wind—His Spirit—where</div> - <div class="i7">It listeth blows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And so the wounded greatness of the World</div> - <div class="i7">In silence lies—</div> - <div>And death is shattered by the light from out</div> - <div class="i7">Those darkened eyes.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Madeleine Caron Rock</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_280">280</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"O SING UNTO MY ROUNDELAY"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O sing unto my roundelay,</div> - <div class="i1">O drop the briny tear with me,</div> - <div>Dance no more at holyday</div> - <div class="i1">Like a running river be!</div> - <div class="i4">My love is dead,</div> - <div class="i6">Gone to his death-bed,</div> - <div class="i8">All under the willow-tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Black his cryne<a name="FNanchor_117_117" id="FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> as the winter night,</div> - <div class="i1">White his rode<a name="FNanchor_118_118" id="FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> as the summer snow,</div> - <div>Red his face as the morning light,</div> - <div class="i1">Cold he lies in the grave below:</div> - <div class="i4">My love is dead,</div> - <div class="i6">Gone to his death-bed,</div> - <div class="i8">All under the willow-tree....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>See, the white moon shines on high;</div> - <div class="i1">Winter is my true-love's shroud,</div> - <div>Whiter than the morning sky,</div> - <div class="i1">Whiter than the evening cloud.</div> - <div class="i4">My love is dead,</div> - <div class="i6">Gone to his death-bed,</div> - <div class="i8">All under the willow-tree....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With my hands I'll dent<a name="FNanchor_119_119" id="FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> the briars</div> - <div class="i1">Round his holy corse to gre;<a name="FNanchor_120_120" id="FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a></div> - <div>Ouph<a name="FNanchor_121_121" id="FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a> and fairy, light your fires,</div> - <div class="i1">Here my body still shall be.</div> - <div class="i4">My love is dead,</div> - <div class="i6">Gone to his death-bed,</div> - <div class="i8">All under the willow-tree....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Thomas Chatterton</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_281"><a href="#note_281">281</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FEAR NO MORE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Feare no more the heate o' th' Sun,</div> - <div>Nor the fureous Winters rages,</div> - <div>Thou thy worldly task hast don,</div> - <div>Home art gon, and tane thy wages.</div> - <div>Golden Lads and Girles all must,</div> - <div>As Chimney-Sweepers, come to dust.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Feare no more the frowne o' th' Great,</div> - <div>Thou art past the Tirants stroake,</div> - <div>Care no more to cloath, and eate,</div> - <div>To thee the Reede is as the Oake:</div> - <div>The Scepter, Learning, Physicke must,</div> - <div>All follow this, and come to dust.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Feare no more the Lightning flash,</div> - <div>Nor the all-dreaded Thunder-stone,</div> - <div>Feare not Slander, Censure rash,</div> - <div>Thou hast finished joy and mone.</div> - <div>All Lovers young, all Lovers must,</div> - <div>Consigne to thee, and come to dust....</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_282">282</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A LAND DIRGE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,</div> - <div>Since o'er shady groves they hover,</div> - <div>And with leaves and flowers do cover</div> - <div>The friendless bodies of unburied men.</div> - <div>Call unto his funeral dole</div> - <div>The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole,</div> - <div>To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,</div> - <div>And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm;</div> - <div>But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,</div> - <div>For with his nails he'll dig them up again.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Webster</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_283">283</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE GRAVE OF LOVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I dug, beneath the cypress shade,</div> - <div class="i1">What well might seem an elfin's grave;</div> - <div>And every pledge in earth I laid,</div> - <div class="i1">That erst thy false affection gave.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I pressed them down the sod beneath;</div> - <div class="i1">I placed one mossy stone above;</div> - <div>And twined the rose's fading wreath</div> - <div class="i1">Around the sepulchre of love.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Frail as thy love, the flowers were dead</div> - <div class="i1">Ere yet the evening sun was set:</div> - <div>But years shall see the cypress spread,</div> - <div class="i1">Immutable as my regret.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Love Peacock</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_284"><a href="#note_284">284</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BURIAL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All the flowers of the spring</div> - <div>Meet to perfume our burying;</div> - <div>These have but their growing prime,</div> - <div>And man does flourish but his time.</div> - <div>Survey our progress from our birth—</div> - <div>We are set, we grow, we turn to earth,</div> - <div>Courts adieu, and all delights,</div> - <div>All bewitching appetites!</div> - <div>Sweetest breath and clearest eye,</div> - <div>Like perfumes go out and die;</div> - <div>And consequently this is done</div> - <div>As shadows wait upon the sun.</div> - <div>Vain the ambition of kings</div> - <div>Who seek by trophies and dead things</div> - <div>To leave a living name behind,</div> - <div>And weave but nets to catch the wind.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Webster</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_285"><a href="#note_285">285</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Mortality, behold and fear!</div> - <div>What a change of flesh is here!</div> - <div>Think how many royal bones</div> - <div>Sleep within these heaps of stones;</div> - <div>Here they lie had realms and lands,</div> - <div>Who now want strength to stir their hands;</div> - <div>Where from their pulpits sealed with dust</div> - <div>They preach:—"In greatness is no trust."</div> - <div>Here's an acre sown indeed</div> - <div>With the richest royallest seed</div> - <div>That the Earth did e'er suck in</div> - <div>Since the first man died for sin:</div> - <div>Here the bones of birth have cried:—</div> - <div>"Though gods they were, as men they died!"</div> - <div>Here are sands, ignoble things,</div> - <div>Dropt from the ruined sides of Kings:</div> - <div>Here's a world of pomp and state</div> - <div>Buried in dust, once dead by fate.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Francis Beaumont</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_286"><a href="#note_286">286</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A FUNERALL SONG</h4> -<p class="center p-left">(<i>Lamenting Syr Phillip Sidney</i>)</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Come to me, grief, for ever;</div> - <div>Come to me, tears, day and night;</div> - <div>Come to me, plaint, ah, helpless;</div> - <div>Just grief, heart tears, plaint worthy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Go from me dread to die now;</div> - <div>Go from me care to live more;</div> - <div>Go from me joys all on earth;</div> - <div>Sidney, O Sidney is dead.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He whom the court adornèd,</div> - <div>He whom the country courtesied,</div> - <div>He who made happy his friends,</div> - <div>He that did good to all men.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sidney, the hope of land strange,</div> - <div>Sidney, the flower of England,</div> - <div>Sidney, the spirit heroic,</div> - <div>Sidney is dead, O dead.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dead? no, no, but renownèd,</div> - <div>With the Anointed onèd;<a name="FNanchor_122_122" id="FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a></div> - <div>Honour on earth at his feet,</div> - <div>Bliss everlasting his seat.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Come to me, grief, for ever;</div> - <div>Come to me, tears, day and night;</div> - <div>Come to me, plaint, ah, helpless;</div> - <div>Just grief, heart tears, plaint worthy.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_287"><a href="#note_287">287</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ON JOHN DONNE'S BOOK OF POEMS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I see in his last preached and printed Booke,</div> - <div>His Picture in a sheet. In Pauls I looke,</div> - <div>And see his Statue in a sheete of stone,</div> - <div>And sure his body in the grave hath one.</div> - <div>Those sheetes present him dead; these, if you buy,</div> - <div>You have him living to Eternity.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Marriot</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_288"><a href="#note_288">288</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>O, LIFT ONE THOUGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Stop, Christian passer-by!—Stop, child of God,</div> - <div>And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod</div> - <div>A poet lies, or that which once seemed he.</div> - <div>O, lift one thought in prayer for S.T.C.;</div> - <div>That he who many a year with toil of breath</div> - <div>Found death in life, may here find life in death.</div> - <div>Mercy for praise—to be forgiven for fame</div> - <div>He asked, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_289">289</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ELEGY</h4> -<p class="center p-left"><i>To the Memory of an unfortunate Lady.</i></p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age,</div> - <div>Dull, sullen prisoners in the body's cage;</div> - <div>Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years,</div> - <div>Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres;</div> - <div>Like eastern kings, a lazy state they keep,</div> - <div>And close confined to their own palace, sleep....</div> - <div>Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dressed,</div> - <div>And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:</div> - <div>There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,</div> - <div>There the first roses of the year shall blow;</div> - <div>While angels with their silver wings o'ershade</div> - <div>The ground, now sacred by thy relics made.</div> - <div class="i1">So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,</div> - <div>What once had beauty, titles, wealth and fame.</div> - <div>How loved, how honoured once, avails thee not</div> - <div>To whom related, or by whom begot;</div> - <div>A heap of dust alone remains of thee:</div> - <div>'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!</div> - <div class="i1">Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung,</div> - <div>Deaf the praised ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.</div> - <div>Ev'n he whose soul now melts in mournful lays</div> - <div>Shall shortly want the generous tear he pays;</div> - <div>Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,</div> - <div>And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart:</div> - <div>Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er,</div> - <div>The Muse forgot, and thou beloved no more!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Alexander Pope</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_290"><a href="#note_290">290</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UPON A CHILD THAT DIED</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here she lies, a pretty bud,</div> - <div>Lately made of flesh and blood:</div> - <div>Who, as soone, fell fast asleep,</div> - <div>As her little eyes did peep.</div> - <div>Give her strewings; but not stir</div> - <div>The earth, that lightly covers her.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Robert Herrick</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_291"><a href="#note_291">291</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE TURNSTILE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ah! sad wer we as we did peäce</div> - <div>The wold church road, wi' downcast feäce,</div> - <div>The while the bells, that mwoaned so deep</div> - <div>Above our child a-left asleep,</div> - <div>Wer now a-zingėn all alive</div> - <div>Wi' tother bells to meäke the vive.</div> - <div>But up at woone pleäce we come by,</div> - <div>'Twer hard to keep woone's two eyes dry;</div> - <div>On Steän-cliff road, 'ithin the drong,</div> - <div>Up where, as vo'k do pass along,</div> - <div>The turnėn stile, a-païnted white,</div> - <div>Do sheen by day an' show by night.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Vor always there, as we did goo</div> - <div>To church, thik stile did let us drough,</div> - <div>Wi' spreadėn eärms that wheeled to guide</div> - <div>Us each in turn to tother zide.</div> - <div>An' vu'st ov all the traïn he took</div> - <div>My wife, wi' winsome gaït an' look;</div> - <div>An' then zent on my little maïd,</div> - <div>A-skippen onward, over-jaÿ'd</div> - <div>To reach ageän the pleäce o' pride,</div> - <div>Her comely mother's left han' zide.</div> - <div>An' then, a-wheelėn roun', he took</div> - <div>On me, 'ithin his third white nook.</div> - <div>An' in the fourth, a-sheäken wild,</div> - <div>He zent us on our giddy child.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But eesterday he guided slow</div> - <div>My downcast Jenny, vull o' woe,</div> - <div>An' then my little maïd in black,</div> - <div>A-walkėn softly on her track;</div> - <div>An' after he'd a-turned ageän,</div> - <div>To let me goo along the leäne,</div> - <div>He had noo little bwoy to vill</div> - <div>His last white eärms, an' they stood still.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Barnes</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_292">292</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE EXEQUY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Sleep on, my Love, in thy cold bed</div> - <div>Never to be disquieted!</div> - <div>My last good-night! Thou wilt not wake</div> - <div>Till I thy fate shall overtake:</div> - <div>Till age, or grief, or sickness must</div> - <div>Marry my body to that dust</div> - <div>It so much loves; and fill the room</div> - <div>My heart keeps empty in that tomb.</div> - <div>Stay for me there: I will not fail</div> - <div>To meet thee in that hollow vale.</div> - <div>And think not much of my delay:</div> - <div>I am already on the way,</div> - <div>And follow thee with all the speed</div> - <div>Desire can make, or sorrows breed.</div> - <div>Each minute is a short degree</div> - <div>And every hour a step towards thee....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Henry King</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_293"><a href="#note_293">293</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"I FOUND HER OUT THERE"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I found her out there</div> - <div>On a slope few see,</div> - <div>That falls westwardly</div> - <div>To the salt-edged air,</div> - <div>Where the ocean breaks</div> - <div>On the purple strand,</div> - <div>And the hurricane shakes</div> - <div>The solid land.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I brought her here,</div> - <div>And have laid her to rest</div> - <div>In a noiseless nest</div> - <div>No sea beats near.</div> - <div>She will never be stirred</div> - <div>In her loamy cell</div> - <div>By the waves long heard</div> - <div>And loved so well.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So she does not sleep</div> - <div>By those haunted heights</div> - <div>The Atlantic smites</div> - <div>And the blind gales sweep,</div> - <div>Whence she often would gaze</div> - <div>At Dundagel's famed head,</div> - <div>While the dipping blaze</div> - <div>Dyed her face fire-red;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And would sigh at the tale</div> - <div>Of sunk Lyonnesse,</div> - <div>As a wind-tugged tress</div> - <div>Flapped her cheek like a flail;</div> - <div>Or listen at whiles</div> - <div>With a thought-bound brow</div> - <div>To the murmuring miles</div> - <div>She is far from now.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet her shade, maybe,</div> - <div>Will creep underground</div> - <div>Till it catch the sound</div> - <div>Of that western sea</div> - <div>As it swells and sobs</div> - <div>Where she once domiciled,</div> - <div>And joys in its throbs</div> - <div>With the heart of a child.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Hardy</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_294">294</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>I NEVER SHALL LOVE THE SNOW AGAIN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I never shall love the snow again</div> - <div class="i4">Since Maurice died:</div> - <div>With corniced drift it blocked the lane</div> - <div>And sheeted in a desolate plain</div> - <div class="i4">The country side.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The trees with silvery rime bedight</div> - <div class="i4">Their branches bare.</div> - <div>By day no sun appeared; by night</div> - <div>The hidden moon shed thievish light</div> - <div class="i4">In the misty air.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We fed the birds that flew around</div> - <div class="i4">In flocks to be fed:</div> - <div>No shelter in holly or brake they found.</div> - <div>The speckled thrush on the frozen ground</div> - <div class="i4">Lay frozen and dead.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We skated on stream and pond; we cut</div> - <div class="i4">The crinching snow</div> - <div>To Doric temple or Arctic hut;</div> - <div>We laughed and sang at nightfall, shut</div> - <div class="i4">By the fireside glow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet grudged we our keen delights before</div> - <div class="i4">Maurice should come.</div> - <div>We said, In-door or out-of-door</div> - <div>We shall love life for a month or more,</div> - <div class="i4">When he is home.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They brought him home; 'twas two days late</div> - <div class="i4">For Christmas day:</div> - <div>Wrapped in white, in solemn state,</div> - <div>A flower in his hand, all still and straight</div> - <div class="i4">Our Maurice lay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And two days ere the year outgave</div> - <div class="i4">We laid him low.</div> - <div>The best of us truly were not brave,</div> - <div>When we laid Maurice down in his grave</div> - <div class="i4">Under the snow.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Bridges</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_295">295</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE COMFORTERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I crept over the hill, broken with tears,</div> - <div class="i1">When I crouched down on the grass, dumb in despair,</div> - <div>I heard the soft croon of the wind bend to my ears,</div> - <div class="i1">I felt the light kiss of the wind touching my hair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I stood lone on the height my sorrow did speak,</div> - <div class="i1">As I went down the hill, I cried and I cried,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></div> - <div>The soft little hands of the rain stroking my cheek,</div> - <div class="i1">The kind little feet of the rain ran by my side.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I went to thy grave, broken with tears,</div> - <div class="i1">When I crouched down in the grass, dumb in despair,</div> - <div>I heard the sweet croon of the wind soft in my ears,</div> - <div class="i1">I felt the kind lips of the wind touching my hair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I stood lone by thy cross, sorrow did speak,</div> - <div class="i1">When I went down the long hill, I cried and I cried,</div> - <div>The soft little hands of the rain stroked my pale cheek,</div> - <div class="i1">The kind little feet of the rain ran by my side.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Dora Sigerson Shorter</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_296">296</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CHILDLESS FATHER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away!</div> - <div>Not a soul in the village this morning will stay;</div> - <div>The hare has just started from Hamilton's grounds,</div> - <div>And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>—Of coats and of jackets grey, scarlet, and green,</div> - <div>On the slopes of the pastures all colours were seen;</div> - <div>With their comely blue aprons, and caps white as snow,</div> - <div>The girls on the hills made a holiday show.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fresh sprigs of green boxwood, not six months before,</div> - <div>Filled the funeral basin at Timothy's door;</div> - <div>A coffin through Timothy's threshold had passed;</div> - <div>One child did it bear, and that child was his last.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now fast up the dell came the noise and the fray,</div> - <div>The horse and the horn, and the "hark! hark away!"</div> - <div>Old Timothy took up his staff, and he shut,</div> - <div>With a leisurely motion, the door of his hut.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Perhaps to himself at that moment he said,</div> - <div>"The key I must take, for my Helen is dead."</div> - <div>But of this in my ears not a word did he speak,</div> - <div>And he went to the chase with a tear on his cheek.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William Wordsworth</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_297">297</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"LYDIA IS GONE THIS MANY A YEAR"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lydia is gone this many a year,</div> - <div class="i1">Yet when the lilacs stir,</div> - <div>In the old gardens far or near,</div> - <div class="i1">This house is full of her.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They climb the twisted chamber stair;</div> - <div class="i1">Her picture haunts the room;</div> - <div>On the carved shelf beneath it there,</div> - <div class="i1">They heap the purple bloom.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A ghost so long has Lydia been,</div> - <div class="i1">Her cloak upon the wall,</div> - <div>Broidered, and gilt, and faded green,</div> - <div class="i1">Seems not her cloak at all.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The book, the box on mantle laid,</div> - <div class="i1">The shells in a pale row,</div> - <div>Are those of some dim little maid,</div> - <div class="i1">A thousand years ago.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And yet the house is full of her,</div> - <div class="i1">She goes and comes again;</div> - <div>And longings thrill, and memories stir,</div> - <div class="i1">Like lilacs in the rain.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Out in their yards the neighbours walk,</div> - <div class="i1">Among the blossoms tall;</div> - <div>Of Anne, of Phyllis do they talk,</div> - <div class="i1">Of Lydia not at all.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Lizette Woodworth Reese</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_298">298</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>REMEMBRANCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,</div> - <div class="i1">Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!</div> - <div>Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,</div> - <div class="i1">Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now—when alone—do my thoughts no longer hover</div> - <div class="i1">Over the mountains, on that northern shore,</div> - <div>Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover</div> - <div class="i1">Thy noble heart for ever, ever more?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers,</div> - <div class="i1">From those brown hills, have melted into spring:</div> - <div>Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers</div> - <div class="i1">After such years of change and suffering!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,</div> - <div class="i1">While the world's tide is bearing me along;</div> - <div>Other desires and other hopes beset me,</div> - <div class="i1">Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No later light has lightened up my heaven,</div> - <div class="i1">No second morn has ever shone for me;</div> - <div>All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given,</div> - <div class="i1">All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,</div> - <div class="i1">And even Despair was powerless to destroy;</div> - <div>Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,</div> - <div class="i1">Strengthened, and fed, without the aid of joy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then did I check the tears of useless passion—</div> - <div class="i1">Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;</div> - <div>Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten</div> - <div class="i1">Down to that tomb already more than mine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,</div> - <div class="i1">Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain;</div> - <div>Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,</div> - <div class="i1">How could I seek the empty world again?</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Emily Brontë</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_299"><a href="#note_299">299</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I am dead, my dearest,</div> - <div class="i1">Sing no sad songs for me;</div> - <div>Plant thou no roses at my head,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor shady cypress-tree:</div> - <div>Be the green grass above me</div> - <div class="i1">With showers and dewdrops wet;</div> - <div>And if thou wilt, remember,</div> - <div class="i1">And if thou wilt, forget.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I shall not see the shadows,</div> - <div class="i1">I shall not feel the rain;</div> - <div>I shall not hear the nightingale</div> - <div class="i1">Sing on, as if in pain:</div> - <div>And dreaming through the twilight</div> - <div class="i1">That doth not rise nor set,</div> - <div>Haply I may remember</div> - <div class="i1">And haply may forget.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Christina Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_300">300</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"WHERE SHALL THE LOVER REST"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where shall the lover rest</div> - <div class="i1">Whom the fates sever</div> - <div>From his true maiden's breast</div> - <div class="i1">Parted for ever?—</div> - <div>Where, through groves deep and high</div> - <div class="i1">Sounds the far billow,</div> - <div>Where early violets die</div> - <div class="i1">Under the willow.</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Eleu loro</i></div> - <div class="i1">Soft shall be his pillow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There through the summer day</div> - <div class="i1">Cool streams are laving:</div> - <div>There, while the tempests sway,</div> - <div class="i1">Scarce are boughs waving;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></div> - <div>There thy rest shalt thou take,</div> - <div class="i1">Parted for ever,</div> - <div>Never again to wake</div> - <div class="i1">Never, O never!</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Eleu loro</i></div> - <div class="i1">Never, O never!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Sir Walter Scott</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_301">301</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>REMEMBER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Remember me when I am gone away,</div> - <div class="i1">Gone far away into the silent land;</div> - <div class="i1">When you can no more hold me by the hand,</div> - <div>Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.</div> - <div>Remember me when no more day by day</div> - <div class="i1">You tell me of our future that you planned:</div> - <div class="i1">Only remember me; you understand</div> - <div>It will be late to counsel then or pray.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet if you should forget me for a while</div> - <div class="i1">And afterwards remember, do not grieve:</div> - <div class="i1">For if the darkness and corruption leave</div> - <div class="i1">A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,</div> - <div>Better by far you should forget and smile</div> - <div class="i1">Than that you should remember and be sad.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Christina Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_302"><a href="#note_302">302</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>READEN OV A HEAD-STWONE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I wer readėn ov a stwone,</div> - <div>In Grenley church-yard, all alwone,</div> - <div>A little maïd ran up, wi' pride</div> - <div>To zee me there; an' pushed azide</div> - <div>A bunch o' bennets, that did hide</div> - <div class="i1">A verse her father, as she zaïd,</div> - <div class="i1">Put up above her mother's head</div> - <div class="i2">To tell how much he loved her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The verse wer short, but very good,</div> - <div>I stood an' larn'd en where I stood:—</div> - <div>"Mid<a name="FNanchor_123_123" id="FNanchor_123_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a> God, dear Meäry, gi'e me greäce</div> - <div>"To vind, lik' thee, a better pleäce,</div> - <div>"Where I, oonce mwore, mid zee thy feäce;</div> - <div class="i1">"An' bring thy children up, to know</div> - <div class="i1">"His word, that they mid come an' show</div> - <div class="i2">"Thy soul how much I loved thee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Where's father, then," I zaid, "my chile?"</div> - <div>"Dead, too," she answered wi' a smile;</div> - <div>"An' I an' brother Jem do bide</div> - <div>"At Betty White's, o'tother zide</div> - <div class="i1">"O' road." "Mid He, my chile," I cried,</div> - <div class="i1">"That's father to the fatherless,</div> - <div class="i1">"Become thy father now, an' bless</div> - <div class="i2">"An' keep, an' leäd, an' love thee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>—Though she've a-lost, I thought, so much,</div> - <div>Still He don't let the thoughts o't touch</div> - <div>Her litsome heart, by day or night;</div> - <div>An' zoo, if we could teäke it right,</div> - <div>Do show He'll meäke his burdens light</div> - <div class="i1">To weaker souls; an' that his smile,</div> - <div class="i1">Is sweet upon a harmless chile,</div> - <div class="i2">When they be dead that loved it.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Barnes</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_303"><a href="#note_303">303</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GOLDEN SLUMBERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,</div> - <div>Smiles awake you when you rise.</div> - <div>Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,</div> - <div>And I will sing a lullaby.</div> - <div>Rock them, rock them, lullaby.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Care is heavy, therefore sleep you;</div> - <div>You are care, and care must keep you.</div> - <div>Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,</div> - <div>And I will sing a lullaby:</div> - <div>Rock them, rock them, lullaby.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Dekker</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_304"><a href="#note_304">304</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MATER DOLOROSA</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'd a dream to-night</div> - <div class="i1">As I fell asleep,</div> - <div>O! the touching sight</div> - <div class="i1">Makes me still to weep:</div> - <div>Of my little lad,</div> - <div>Gone to leave me sad,</div> - <div>Ay, the child I had,</div> - <div class="i1">But was not to keep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As in heaven high,</div> - <div class="i1">I my child did seek,</div> - <div>There in train came by</div> - <div class="i1">Children fair and meek,</div> - <div>Each in lily white,</div> - <div>With a lamp alight;</div> - <div>Each was clear to sight,</div> - <div class="i1">But they did not speak.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then, a little sad,</div> - <div class="i1">Came my child in turn,</div> - <div>But the lamp he had</div> - <div class="i1">O it did not burn!</div> - <div>He, to clear my doubt,</div> - <div>Said, half-turned about,</div> - <div>"Your tears put it out;</div> - <div class="i1">Mother, never mourn."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Barnes</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_305">305</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WEEP YOU NO MORE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Weep you no more, sad fountains!</div> - <div class="i1">What need you flow so fast?</div> - <div>Look how the snowy mountains</div> - <div class="i1">Heaven's sun doth gently waste!</div> - <div>But my sun's heavenly eyes</div> - <div class="i1">View not your weeping,</div> - <div class="i1">That now lies sleeping</div> - <div>Softly, now softly lies</div> - <div class="i6">Sleeping.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sleep is a reconciling,</div> - <div class="i1">A rest that peace begets:</div> - <div>Doth not the sun rise smiling</div> - <div class="i1">When fair at even he sets?</div> - <div>Rest you then, rest, sad eyes!</div> - <div class="i1">Melt not in weeping,</div> - <div class="i1">While she lies sleeping</div> - <div>Softly, now softly lies</div> - <div class="i6">Sleeping.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_306">306</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FAERY SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Shed no tear—O shed no tear!</div> - <div>The flower will bloom another year.</div> - <div>Weep no more—O weep no more!</div> - <div>Young buds sleep in the root's white core.</div> - <div>Dry your eyes—O dry your eyes!</div> - <div>For I was taught in Paradise</div> - <div>To ease my breast of melodies—</div> - <div class="i8h">Shed no tear.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Overhead—look overhead</div> - <div>'Mong the blossoms white and red—</div> - <div>Look up, look up—I flutter now</div> - <div>On this flush pomegranate bough—</div> - <div>See me—'tis this silvery bill</div> - <div>Ever cures the good man's ill—</div> - <div>Shed no tear—O shed no tear!</div> - <div>The flower will bloom another year.</div> - <div>Adieu—Adieu—I fly, adieu,</div> - <div>I vanish in the heaven's blue—</div> - <div class="i8h">Adieu, Adieu!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_307">307</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WORLD OF LIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They are all gone into the world of light!</div> - <div class="i1">And I alone sit lingering here;</div> - <div>Their very memory is fair and bright,</div> - <div class="i2h">And my sad thoughts doth clear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast</div> - <div class="i1">Like stars upon some gloomy grove,</div> - <div>Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest</div> - <div class="i2h">After the Sun's remove.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I see them walking in an Air of glory,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose light doth trample on my days;</div> - <div>My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,</div> - <div class="i2h">Mere glimmering and decays.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O holy hope! and high humility,</div> - <div class="i1">High as the Heavens above!</div> - <div>These are your walks, and you have showed them me,</div> - <div class="i2h">To kindle my cold love.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dear, beauteous Death! the Jewel of the Just!</div> - <div class="i1">Shining nowhere but in the dark;</div> - <div>What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,</div> - <div class="i2h">Could man outlook that mark!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know</div> - <div class="i1">At first sight if the bird be flown;</div> - <div>But what fair Well, or Grove he sings in now,</div> - <div class="i2h">That is to him unknown.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams</div> - <div class="i1">Call to the soul, when man doth sleep,</div> - <div>So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,</div> - <div class="i2h">And into glory peep....</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Henry Vaughan</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_308">308</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SILENT IS THE HOUSE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:</div> - <div>One alone looks out o'er the snow-wreaths deep,</div> - <div>Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor;</div> - <div>Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door;</div> - <div>The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far:</div> - <div>I trim it well, to be the wanderer's guiding-star.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Frown, my haughty sire; chide, my angry dame;</div> - <div>Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame!</div> - <div>But neither sire, nor dame, nor prying serf shall know,</div> - <div>What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What I love shall come like visitant of air,</div> - <div>Safe in secret power from lurking human snare;</div> - <div>What loves me, no word of mine shall e'er betray,</div> - <div>Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear—</div> - <div>Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air:</div> - <div>He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me;</div> - <div>Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Emily Brontë</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_309">309</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MISTRESS OF VISION</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">... Secret was the garden;</div> - <div class="i6">Set i' the pathless awe</div> - <div class="i6">Where no star its breath can draw.</div> - <div class="i6">Life, that is its warden,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Sits behind the fosse of death. Mine eyes saw not, and I saw.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">It was a mazeful wonder;</div> - <div class="i6">Thrice three times it was enwalled</div> - <div class="i6">With an emerald—</div> - <div class="i6">Sealèd so asunder.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">All its birds in middle air hung a-dream, their music thralled.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">The Lady of fair weeping,</div> - <div class="i6">At the garden's core,</div> - <div class="i6">Sang a song of sweet and sore</div> - <div class="i6">And the after-sleeping;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">In the land of Luthany, and the tracts of Elenore.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">With sweet-pangèd singing,</div> - <div class="i6">Sang she through a dream-night's day;</div> - <div class="i6">That the bowers might stay,</div> - <div class="i6">Birds bate their winging,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Nor the wall of emerald float in wreathèd haze away....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Her song said that no springing</div> - <div class="i6">Paradise but evermore</div> - <div class="i6">Hangeth on a singing</div> - <div class="i6">That has chords of weeping,</div> - <div class="i6">And that sings the after-sleeping</div> - <div class="i6">To souls which wake too sore.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"But woe the singer, woe!" she said; "beyond the dead his singing-lore,</div> - <div class="i6">All its art of sweet and sore</div> - <div class="i6">He learns, in Elenore!"</div> - <div class="i6">Where is the land of Luthany,</div> - <div class="i6">Where is the tract of Elenore?</div> - <div class="i6">I am bound therefor.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">"Pierce thy heart to find the key;</div> - <div class="i6">With thee take</div> - <div class="i6">Only what none else would keep;</div> - <div class="i6">Learn to dream when thou dost wake,</div> - <div class="i6">Learn to wake when thou dost sleep.</div> - <div class="i6">Learn to water joy with tears,</div> - <div class="i6">Learn from fears to vanquish fears;</div> - <div class="i6">To hope, for thou dar'st not despair,</div> - <div class="i6">Exult, for that thou dar'st not grieve;</div> - <div class="i6">Plough thou the rock until it bear;</div> - <div class="i6">Know, for thou else couldst not believe;</div> - <div class="i6">Lose, that the lost thou may'st receive;</div> - <div class="i6">Die, for none other way canst live.</div> - <div class="i6">When earth and heaven lay down their veil,</div> - <div class="i6">And that apocalypse turns thee pale;</div> - <div class="i6">When thy seeing blindeth thee</div> - <div class="i6">To what thy fellow-mortals see;</div> - <div class="i6">When their sight to thee is sightless;</div> - <div class="i6">Their living, death; their light, most lightless;</div> - <div class="i6">Search no more—</div> - <div>Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Where is the land of Luthany,</div> - <div class="i6">And where the region Elenore?</div> - <div class="i6">I do faint therefor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></div> - <div class="i6">"When to the new eyes of thee</div> - <div class="i6">All things by immortal power,</div> - <div class="i6">Near or far,</div> - <div class="i6">Hiddenly</div> - <div class="i6">To each other linkèd are,</div> - <div class="i6">That thou canst not stir a flower</div> - <div class="i6">Without troubling of a star;</div> - <div class="i6">When thy song is shield and mirror</div> - <div class="i6">To the fair snake-curlèd Pain,</div> - <div class="i6">Where thou dar'st affront her terror</div> - <div class="i6">That on her thou may'st attain</div> - <div class="i6">Perséan conquest; seek no more,</div> - <div class="i6">O seek no more!</div> - <div>Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">So sang she, so wept she,</div> - <div class="i6">Through a dream-night's day;</div> - <div class="i6">And with her magic singing kept she—</div> - <div class="i6">Mystical in music—</div> - <div class="i6">The garden of enchanting</div> - <div class="i6">In visionary May;</div> - <div class="i6">Songless from my spirits' haunting,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Thrice-threefold walled with emerald from our mortal mornings grey....</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Francis Thompson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_289" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_289.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>FAR</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_310"><a href="#note_310">310</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TOM O' BEDLAM</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The moon's my constant mistress,</div> - <div class="i1">And the lovely owl my marrow;</div> - <div class="i2">The flaming drake,</div> - <div class="i2">And the night-crow, make</div> - <div class="i1">Me music to my sorrow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I know more than Apollo;</div> - <div class="i1">For oft, when he lies sleeping,</div> - <div class="i2">I behold the stars</div> - <div class="i2">At mortal wars,</div> - <div class="i1">And the rounded welkin weeping.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The moon embraces her shepherd,</div> - <div class="i1">And the Queen of Love her warrior;</div> - <div class="i2">While the first does horn</div> - <div class="i2">The stars of the morn,</div> - <div class="i1">And the next the heavenly farrier.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With a heart of furious fancies,</div> - <div class="i1">Whereof I am commander:</div> - <div class="i2">With a burning spear,</div> - <div class="i2">And a horse of air,</div> - <div class="i1">To the wilderness I wander;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With a Knight of ghosts and shadows,</div> - <div class="i1">I summoned am to Tourney:</div> - <div class="i2">Ten leagues beyond</div> - <div class="i2">The wide world's end;</div> - <div class="i1">Methinks it is no journey.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_311">311</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE NIGHT-PIECE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Her Eyes the Glow-worme lend thee,</div> - <div class="i1">The Shooting Starres attend thee;</div> - <div class="i4">And the Elves also,</div> - <div class="i4">Whose little eyes glow,</div> - <div>Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">No <i>Will-o' th'-Wispe</i> mis-light thee;</div> - <div class="i1">Nor Snake, or Slow-worme bite thee:</div> - <div class="i4">But on, on thy way</div> - <div class="i4">Not making a stay,</div> - <div>Since Ghost ther's none to affright thee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Let not the darke thee cumber;</div> - <div class="i1">What though the Moon does slumber?</div> - <div class="i4">The Starres of the night</div> - <div class="i4">Will lend thee their light,</div> - <div>Like Tapers cleare without number....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Herrick</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_312">312</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MY PLAID AWA'</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My plaid awa', my plaid awa',</div> - <div>And ore the hill and far awa',</div> - <div>And far awa' to Norrowa,</div> - <div>My plaid shall not be blown awa'."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The elphin knight sits on yon hill,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Ba, ba, lilli ba</i>,</div> - <div>He blowes it east, he blowes it west,</div> - <div>He blowes it where he lyketh best ...</div> - <div>"My plaid awa', my plaid awa',</div> - <div>And ore the hill and far awa'."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_313">313</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BUCKEE BENE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Buckee, Buckee, biddy Bene,</div> - <div>Is the way now fair and clean?</div> - <div>Is the goose ygone to nest,</div> - <div>And the fox ygone to rest?</div> - <div>Shall I come away?</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_314"><a href="#note_314">314</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHAT'S IN THERE?</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Faht's in there?</div> - <div>Gold and money.</div> - <div>Fahr's<a name="FNanchor_124_124" id="FNanchor_124_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> my share o't?</div> - <div>The moosie ran awa' wi't.</div> - <div>Fahr's the moosie?</div> - <div>In her hoosie.</div> - <div>Fahr's her hoosie?</div> - <div>In the wood.</div> - <div>Fahr's the wood?</div> - <div>The fire brunt it.</div> - <div>Fahr's the fire?</div> - <div>The water quencht it.</div> - <div>Fahr's the water?</div> - <div>The broon bull drank it.</div> - <div>Fahr's the broon bull?</div> - <div>Back a Burnie's hill.</div> - <div>Fahr's Burnie's hill?</div> - <div>A' claid wi' snaw.</div> - <div>Fahr's the snaw?</div> - <div>The sun meltit it.</div> - <div>Fahr's the sun?</div> - <div>Heigh, heigh up i' the air!"</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_315">315</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WEE WEE MAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I was wa'king all alone,</div> - <div class="i1">Between a water and a wa',</div> - <div>And there I spy'd a Wee Wee Man,</div> - <div class="i1">And he was the least that ere I saw.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His legs were scarce a shathmont's length</div> - <div class="i1">And thick and thimber was his thigh;</div> - <div>Between his brows there was a span,</div> - <div class="i1">And between his shoulders there was three.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He took up a meikle stane,</div> - <div class="i1">And he flang't as far as I could see;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></div> - <div>Though I had been a Wallace wight,</div> - <div class="i1">I couldna' liften't to my knee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O Wee Wee Man, but thou be strang!</div> - <div class="i1">O tell me where thy dwelling be?"</div> - <div>"My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower;</div> - <div class="i1">O will you go with me and see?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On we lap, and awa' we rade,</div> - <div class="i1">Till we came to yon bonny green;</div> - <div>We lighted down for to bait our horse,</div> - <div class="i1">And out there came a lady fine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Four and twenty at her back,</div> - <div class="i1">And they were a' clad out in green;</div> - <div>Though the King of Scotland had been there,</div> - <div class="i1">The warst o' them might hae been his queen.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On we lap, and awa' we rade,</div> - <div class="i1">Till we came to yon bonny ha',</div> - <div>Whare the roof was o' the beaten gould,</div> - <div class="i1">And the floor was o' the cristal a'.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When we came to the stair-foot,</div> - <div class="i1">Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma',</div> - <div>But in the twinkling of an eye,</div> - <div class="i1">My Wee Wee Man was clean awa'.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_316"><a href="#note_316">316</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>I SAW A PEACOCK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw a peacock with a fiery tail</div> - <div>I saw a blazing comet drop down hail</div> - <div>I saw a cloud wrappèd with ivy round</div> - <div>I saw an oak creep on along the ground</div> - <div>I saw a pismire swallow up a whale</div> - <div>I saw the sea brim full of ale</div> - <div>I saw a Venice glass five fathom deep</div> - <div>I saw a well full of men's tears that weep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></div> - <div>I saw red eyes all of a flaming fire</div> - <div>I saw a house bigger than the moon and higher</div> - <div>I saw the sun at twelve o'clock at night</div> - <div>I saw the Man that saw this wondrous sight.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_317">317</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GIRAFFE AND TREE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Upon a dark ball spun in Time</div> - <div class="i1">Stands a Giraffe beside a Tree:</div> - <div>Of what immortal stuff can that</div> - <div class="i1">The fading picture be?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So, thought I, standing by my love</div> - <div class="i1">Whose hair, a small black flag,</div> - <div>Broke on the universal air</div> - <div class="i1">With proud and lovely brag:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It waved among the silent hills,</div> - <div class="i1">A wind of shining ebony</div> - <div>In Time's bright glass, where mirrored clear</div> - <div class="i1">Stood the Giraffe beside a Tree.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Walter J. Turner</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_318">318</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WATER LADY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Alas, the moon should ever beam</div> - <div>To show what man should never see!</div> - <div>I saw a maiden on a stream,</div> - <div>And fair was she!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I stayed awhile, to see her throw</div> - <div>Her tresses back, that all beset</div> - <div>The fair horizon of her brow</div> - <div>With clouds of jet.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I stayed a little while to view</div> - <div>Her cheek, that wore in place of red</div> - <div>The bloom of water, tender blue,</div> - <div>Daintily spread.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I stayed to watch, a little space,</div> - <div>Her parted lips if she would sing;</div> - <div>The waters closed above her face</div> - <div>With many a ring.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And still I stayed a little more,</div> - <div>Alas! she never comes again;</div> - <div>I throw my flowers from the shore,</div> - <div>And watch in vain.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I know my life will fade away,</div> - <div>I know that I must vainly pine,</div> - <div>For I am made of mortal clay,</div> - <div>But she's divine!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Hood</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_319"><a href="#note_319">319</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I went out to the hazel wood,</div> - <div>Because a fire was in my head,</div> - <div>And cut and peeled a hazel wand,</div> - <div>And hooked a berry to a thread;</div> - <div>And when white moths were on the wing,</div> - <div>And moth-like stars were flickering out,</div> - <div>I dropped the berry in a stream</div> - <div>And caught a little silver trout.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I had laid it on the floor</div> - <div>I went to blow the fire a-flame,</div> - <div>But something rustled on the floor,</div> - <div>And someone called me by my name:</div> - <div>It had become a glimmering girl</div> - <div>With apple blossom in her hair</div> - <div>Who called me by my name and ran</div> - <div>And faded through the brightening air.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though I am old with wandering</div> - <div>Through hollow lands and hilly lands,</div> - <div>I will find out where she has gone,</div> - <div>And kiss her lips and take her hands;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></div> - <div>And walk among long dappled grass,</div> - <div>And pluck till time and times are done</div> - <div>The silver apples of the moon,</div> - <div>The golden apples of the sun.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">W. B. Yeats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_320">320</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WAY THROUGH THE WOODS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They shut the road through the woods</div> - <div>Seventy years ago.</div> - <div>Weather and rain have undone it again,</div> - <div>And now you would never know</div> - <div>There was once a road through the woods</div> - <div>Before they planted the trees.</div> - <div>It is underneath the coppice and heath,</div> - <div>And the thin anemones.</div> - <div>Only the keeper sees</div> - <div>That, where the ring-dove broods,</div> - <div>And the badgers roll at ease,</div> - <div>There was once a road through the woods.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet, if you enter the woods</div> - <div>Of a summer evening late,</div> - <div>When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools</div> - <div>Where the otter whistles his mate.</div> - <div>(They fear not men in the woods,</div> - <div>Because they see so few)</div> - <div>You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,</div> - <div>And the swish of a skirt in the dew,</div> - <div>Steadily cantering through</div> - <div>The misty solitudes,</div> - <div>As though they perfectly knew</div> - <div>The old lost road through the woods ...</div> - <div>But there is no road through the woods!</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Rudyard Kipling</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_321"><a href="#note_321">321</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FALLOW DEER AT THE LONELY HOUSE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>One without looks in to-night</div> - <div class="i1">Through the curtain-chink</div> - <div>From the sheet of glistening white;</div> - <div>One without looks in to-night</div> - <div class="i1">As we sit and think</div> - <div class="i1">By the fender-brink.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We do not discern those eyes</div> - <div class="i1">Watching in the snow;</div> - <div>Lit by lamps of rosy dyes</div> - <div>We do not discern those eyes</div> - <div class="i1">Wondering, aglow,</div> - <div class="i1">Fourfooted, tiptoe.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Hardy</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_322">322</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DEER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Shy in their herding dwell the fallow deer.</div> - <div>They are spirits of wild sense. Nobody near</div> - <div>Comes upon their pastures. There a life they live,</div> - <div>Of sufficient beauty, phantom, fugitive,</div> - <div>Treading as in jungles free leopards do,</div> - <div>Printless as evelight, instant as dew.</div> - <div>The great kine are patient, and home-coming sheep</div> - <div>Know our bidding. The fallow deer keep</div> - <div>Delicate and far their counsels wild,</div> - <div>Never to be folded reconciled</div> - <div>To the spoiling hand as the poor flocks are;</div> - <div>Lightfoot, and swift, and unfamiliar,</div> - <div>These you may not hinder, unconfined</div> - <div>Beautiful flocks of the mind.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Drinkwater</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_323">323</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE TWO SWANS</h4> -<p class="smcap center p-left">(A Fairy Tale)</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Immortal Imogen, crowned queen above</div> - <div class="i1">The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hear</div> - <div class="i1">A fairy dream in honour of true love—</div> - <div class="i1">True above ills, and frailty, and all fear—</div> - <div class="i1">Perchance a shadow of his own career</div> - <div class="i1">Whose youth was darkly prisoned and long twined</div> - <div class="i1">By serpent-sorrow, till white Love drew near,</div> - <div class="i1">And sweetly sang him free, and round his mind</div> - <div>A bright horizon threw, wherein no grief may wind.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">I saw a tower builded on a lake,</div> - <div class="i1">Mocked by its inverse shadow, dark and deep—</div> - <div class="i1">That seemed a still intenser night to make,</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein the quiet waters sunk to sleep,—</div> - <div class="i1">And, whatsoe'er was prisoned in that keep,</div> - <div class="i1">A monstrous Snake was warden:—round and round</div> - <div class="i1">In sable ringlets I beheld him creep,</div> - <div class="i1">Blackest amid black shadows, to the ground,</div> - <div>Whilst his enormous head the topmost turret crowned:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">From whence he shot fierce light against the stars,</div> - <div class="i1">Making the pale moon paler with affright;</div> - <div class="i1">And with his ruby eye out-threatened Mars—</div> - <div class="i1">That blazed in the mid-heavens, hot and bright—</div> - <div class="i1">Nor slept, nor winked, but with a steadfast spite</div> - <div class="i1">Watched their wan looks and tremblings in the skies;</div> - <div class="i1">And that he might not slumber in the night,</div> - <div class="i1">The curtain-lids were plucked from his large eyes,</div> - <div>So he might never drowse, but watch his secret prize.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Prince or princess in dismal durance pent,</div> - <div class="i1">Victims of old Enchantment's love or hate,</div> - <div class="i1">Their lives must all in painful sighs be spent,</div> - <div class="i1">Watching the lonely waters soon and late,</div> - <div class="i1">And clouds that pass and leave them to their fate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">Or company their grief with heavy tears:—</div> - <div class="i1">Meanwhile that Hope can spy no golden gate</div> - <div class="i1">For sweet escapement, but in darksome fears</div> - <div>They weep and pine away as if immortal years.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">No gentle bird with gold upon its wing</div> - <div class="i1">Will perch upon the grate—the gentle bird</div> - <div class="i1">Is safe in leafy dell, and will not bring</div> - <div class="i1">Freedom's sweet keynote and commission-word</div> - <div class="i1">Learned of a fairy's lips, for pity stirred—</div> - <div class="i1">Lest while he trembling sings, untimely guest!</div> - <div class="i1">Watched by that cruel Snake and darkly heard,</div> - <div class="i1">He leave a widow on her lonely nest,</div> - <div>To press in silent grief the darlings of her breast.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">No gallant knight, adventurous, in his bark,</div> - <div class="i1">Will seek the fruitful perils of the place,</div> - <div class="i1">To rouse with dipping oar the waters dark</div> - <div class="i1">That bear that serpent-image on their face.</div> - <div class="i1">And Love, brave Love! though he attempt the base,</div> - <div class="i1">Nerved to his loyal death, he may not win</div> - <div class="i1">His captive lady from the strict embrace</div> - <div class="i1">Of that foul Serpent, clasping her within</div> - <div>His sable folds—like Eve enthralled by the old Sin.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">But there is none—no knight in panoply,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor Love, intrenched in his strong steely coat:</div> - <div class="i1">No little speck—no sail—no helper nigh,</div> - <div class="i1">No sign—no whispering—no plash of boat:—</div> - <div class="i1">The distant shores show dimly and remote,</div> - <div class="i1">Made of a deeper mist,—serene and grey,—</div> - <div class="i1">And slow and mute the cloudy shadows float</div> - <div class="i1">Over the gloomy wave, and pass away,</div> - <div>Chased by the silver beams that on their marges play.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And bright and silvery the willows sleep</div> - <div class="i1">Over the shady verge—no mad winds tease</div> - <div class="i1">Their hoary heads; but quietly they weep</div> - <div class="i1">Their sprinkling leaves—half fountains and half trees:</div> - <div class="i1">There lilies be—and fairer than all these,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">A solitary Swan her breast of snow</div> - <div class="i1">Launches against the wave that seems to freeze</div> - <div class="i1">Into a chaste reflection, still below,</div> - <div>Twin-shadow of herself wherever she may go.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And forth she paddles in the very noon</div> - <div class="i1">Of solemn midnight, like an elfin thing</div> - <div class="i1">Charmed into being by the argent moon—</div> - <div class="i1">Whose silver light for love of her fair wing</div> - <div class="i1">Goes with her in the shade, still worshipping</div> - <div class="i1">Her dainty plumage:—all around her grew</div> - <div class="i1">A radiant circlet, like a fairy ring;</div> - <div class="i1">And all behind, a tiny little clue</div> - <div>Of light, to guide her back across the waters blue.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And sure she is no meaner than a fay</div> - <div class="i1">Redeemed from sleepy death, for beauty's sake,</div> - <div class="i1">By old ordainment:—silent as she lay,</div> - <div class="i1">Touched by a moonlight wand I saw her wake,</div> - <div class="i1">And cut her leafy slough and so forsake</div> - <div class="i1">The verdant prison of her lily peers,</div> - <div class="i1">That slept amidst the stars upon the lake—</div> - <div class="i1">A breathing shape—restored to human fears,</div> - <div>And new-born love and grief—self-conscious of her tears.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And now she clasps her wings around her heart,</div> - <div class="i1">And near that lonely isle begins to glide,</div> - <div class="i1">Pale as her fears, and oft-times with a start</div> - <div class="i1">Turns her impatient head from side to side</div> - <div class="i1">In universal terrors—all too wide</div> - <div class="i1">To watch; and often to that marble keep</div> - <div class="i1">Upturns her pearly eyes, as if she spied</div> - <div class="i1">Some foe, and crouches in the shadows steep</div> - <div>That in the gloomy wave go diving fathoms deep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And well she may, to spy that fearful thing</div> - <div class="i1">All down the dusky walls in circlets wound;</div> - <div class="i1">Alas! for what rare prize, with many a ring</div> - <div class="i1">Girding the marble casket round and round?</div> - <div class="i1">His folded tail, lost in the gloom profound,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">Terribly darkeneth the rocky base;</div> - <div class="i1">But on the top his monstrous head is crowned</div> - <div class="i1">With prickly spears, and on his doubtful face</div> - <div>Gleam his unwearied eyes, red watchers of the place.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Alas! of the hot fires that nightly fall,</div> - <div class="i1">No one will scorch him in those orbs of spite,</div> - <div class="i1">So he may never see beneath the wall</div> - <div class="i1">That timid little creature, all too bright,</div> - <div class="i1">That stretches her fair neck, slender and white,</div> - <div class="i1">Invoking the pale moon, and vainly tries</div> - <div class="i1">Her throbbing throat, as if to charm the night</div> - <div class="i1">With song—but, hush—it perishes in sighs,</div> - <div>And there will be no dirge sad-swelling, though she dies!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">She droops—she sinks—she leans upon the lake,</div> - <div class="i1">Fainting again into a lifeless flower;</div> - <div class="i1">But soon the chilly springs anoint and wake</div> - <div class="i1">Her spirit from its death, and with new power</div> - <div class="i1">She sheds her stifled sorrows in a shower</div> - <div class="i1">Of tender song, timed to her falling tears—</div> - <div class="i1">That wins the shady summit of that tower,</div> - <div class="i1">And, trembling all the sweeter for its fears,</div> - <div>Fills with imploring moan that cruel monster's ears.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And, lo! the scaly beast is all deprest,</div> - <div class="i1">Subdued like Argus by the might of sound—</div> - <div class="i1">What time Apollo his sweet lute addrest</div> - <div class="i1">To magic converse with the air, and bound</div> - <div class="i1">The many monster eyes, all slumber-drowned:—</div> - <div class="i1">So on the turret-top that watchful Snake</div> - <div class="i1">Pillows his giant head, and lists profound,</div> - <div class="i1">As if his wrathful spite would never wake,</div> - <div>Charmed into sudden sleep for Love and Beauty's sake!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">His prickly crest lies prone upon his crown,</div> - <div class="i1">And thirsty lip from lip disparted flies,</div> - <div class="i1">To drink that dainty flood of music down—</div> - <div class="i1">His scaly throat is big with pent-up sighs—</div> - <div class="i1">And whilst his hollow ear entrancèd lies,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">His looks for envy of the charmèd sense</div> - <div class="i1">Are fain to listen, till his steadfast eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">Stung into pain by their own impotence,</div> - <div>Distil enormous tears into the lake immense.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Oh, tuneful Swan! oh, melancholy bird!</div> - <div class="i1">Sweet was that midnight miracle of song,</div> - <div class="i1">Rich with ripe sorrow, needful of no word</div> - <div class="i1">To tell of pain, and love, and love's deep wrong—</div> - <div class="i1">Hinting a piteous tale—perchance how long</div> - <div class="i1">Thy unknown tears were mingled with the lake,</div> - <div class="i1">What time disguised thy leafy mates among—</div> - <div class="i1">And no eye knew what human love and ache</div> - <div>Dwelt in those dewy leaves, and heart so nigh to break.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Therefore no poet will ungently touch</div> - <div class="i1">The water-lily, on whose eyelids dew</div> - <div class="i1">Trembles like tears; but ever hold it such</div> - <div class="i1">As human pain may wander through and through,</div> - <div class="i1">Turning the pale leaf paler in its hue—</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein life dwells, transfigured, not entombed,</div> - <div class="i1">By magic spells. Alas! who ever knew</div> - <div class="i1">Sorrow in all its shades, leafy and plumed,</div> - <div>Or in gross husks of brutes eternally inhumed?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And now the wingèd song has scaled the height</div> - <div class="i1">Of that dark dwelling, builded for despair,</div> - <div class="i1">And soon a little casement flashing bright</div> - <div class="i1">Widens self-opened into the cool air—</div> - <div class="i1">That music like a bird may enter there</div> - <div class="i1">And soothe the captive in his stony cage;</div> - <div class="i1">For there is nought of grief, or painful care,</div> - <div class="i1">But plaintive song may happily engage</div> - <div>From sense of its own ill, and tenderly assuage.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And forth into the light, small and remote,</div> - <div class="i1">A creature, like the fair son of a king,</div> - <div class="i1">Draws to the lattice in his jewelled coat</div> - <div class="i1">Against the silver moonlight glistening,</div> - <div class="i1">And leans upon his white hand listening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">To that sweet music that with tenderer tone</div> - <div class="i1">Salutes him, wondering what kindly thing</div> - <div class="i1">Is come to soothe him with so tuneful moan,</div> - <div>Singing beneath the walls as if for him alone!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And while he listens, the mysterious song,</div> - <div class="i1">Woven with timid particles of speech,</div> - <div class="i1">Twines into passionate words that grieve along</div> - <div class="i1">The melancholy notes, and softly teach</div> - <div class="i1">The secrets of true love,—that trembling reach</div> - <div class="i1">His earnest ear, and through the shadows dun</div> - <div class="i1">He missions like replies, and each to each</div> - <div class="i1">Their silver voices mingle into one,</div> - <div>Like blended streams that make one music as they run.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"Ah, Love! my hope is swooning in my heart,—"</div> - <div class="i1">"Ay, sweet! my cage is strong and hung full high—"</div> - <div class="i1">"Alas! our lips are held so far apart,</div> - <div class="i1">Thy words come faint,—they have so far to fly!—"</div> - <div class="i1">"If I may only shun that serpent-eye!—"</div> - <div class="i1">"Ah me! that serpent-eye doth never sleep;—"</div> - <div class="i1">"Then nearer thee, Love's martyr, I will die!—"</div> - <div class="i1">"Alas, alas! that word has made me weep!</div> - <div>For pity's sake remain safe in thy marble keep!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"My marble keep! it is my marble tomb—"</div> - <div class="i1">"Nay, sweet! but thou hast there thy living breath—"</div> - <div class="i1">"Aye to expend in sighs for this hard doom;—"</div> - <div class="i1">"But I will come to thee and sing beneath,</div> - <div class="i1">And nightly so beguile this serpent wreath;—"</div> - <div class="i1">"Nay, I will find a path from these despairs."</div> - <div class="i1">"Ah! needs then thou must tread the back of death,</div> - <div class="i1">Making his stony ribs thy stony stairs.—</div> - <div>Behold his ruby eye, how fearfully it glares!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Full sudden at these words, the princely youth</div> - <div class="i1">Leaps on the scaly back that slumbers, still</div> - <div class="i1">Unconscious of his foot, yet not for ruth,</div> - <div class="i1">But numbed to dulness by the fairy skill</div> - <div class="i1">Of that sweet music (all more wild and shrill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">For intense fear) that charmed him as he lay—</div> - <div class="i1">Meanwhile the lover nerves his desperate will,</div> - <div class="i1">Held some short throbs by natural dismay,</div> - <div>Then down the serpent-track begins his darksome way.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Now dimly seen—now toiling out of sight,</div> - <div class="i1">Eclipsed and covered by the envious wall;</div> - <div class="i1">Now fair and spangled in the sudden light,</div> - <div class="i1">And clinging with wide arms for fear of fall:</div> - <div class="i1">Now dark and sheltered by a kindly pall</div> - <div class="i1">Of dusky shadow from his wakeful foe;</div> - <div class="i1">Slowly he winds adown—dimly and small,</div> - <div class="i1">Watched by the gentle Swan that sings below,</div> - <div>Her hope increasing, still, the larger he doth grow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">But nine times nine the Serpent folds embrace</div> - <div class="i1">The marble walls about—which he must tread</div> - <div class="i1">Before his anxious foot may touch the base:</div> - <div class="i1">Long is the dreary path, and must be sped!</div> - <div class="i1">But Love, that holds the mastery of dread,</div> - <div class="i1">Braces his spirit, and with constant toil</div> - <div class="i1">He wins his way, and now, with arms outspread,</div> - <div class="i1">Impatient plunges from the last long coil:</div> - <div>So may all gentle Love ungentle Malice foil!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">The song is hushed, the charm is all complete,</div> - <div class="i1">And two fair Swans are swimming on the lake:</div> - <div class="i1">But scarce their tender bills have time to meet,</div> - <div class="i1">When fiercely drops adown that cruel Snake—</div> - <div class="i1">His steely scales a fearful rustling make,</div> - <div class="i1">Like autumn leaves that tremble and foretell</div> - <div class="i1">The sable storm;—the plumy lovers quake—</div> - <div class="i1">And feel the troubled waters pant and swell,</div> - <div>Heaved by the giant bulk of their pursuer fell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">His jaws, wide yawning like the gates of Death,</div> - <div class="i1">His horrible pursuit—his red eyes glare</div> - <div class="i1">The waters into blood—his eager breath</div> - <div class="i1">Grows hot upon their plumes:—now, minstrel fair!</div> - <div class="i1">She drops her ring into the waves, and there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">It widens all around, a fairy ring</div> - <div class="i1">Wrought of the silver light—the fearful pair</div> - <div class="i1">Swim in the very midst, and pant and cling</div> - <div>The closer for their fears, and tremble wing to wing.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Bending their course over the pale grey lake,</div> - <div class="i1">Against the pallid East, wherein light played</div> - <div class="i1">In tender flushes, still the baffled Snake</div> - <div class="i1">Circled them round continually, and bayed</div> - <div class="i1">Hoarsely and loud, forbidden to invade</div> - <div class="i1">The sanctuary ring: his sable mail</div> - <div class="i1">Rolled darkly through the flood, and writhed and made</div> - <div class="i1">A shining track over the waters pale,</div> - <div>Lashed into boiling foam by his enormous tail.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">And so they sailed into the distance dim,</div> - <div class="i1">Into the very distance—small and white,</div> - <div class="i1">Like snowy blossoms of the spring that swim</div> - <div class="i1">Over the brooklets—followed by the spite</div> - <div class="i1">Of that huge Serpent, that with wild affright</div> - <div class="i1">Worried them on their course, and sore annoy,</div> - <div class="i1">Till on the grassy marge I saw them 'light,</div> - <div class="i1">And change, anon, a gentle girl and boy,</div> - <div>Locked in embrace of sweet unutterable joy!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Then came the Morn, and with her pearly showers</div> - <div class="i1">Wept on them, like a mother, in whose eyes</div> - <div class="i1">Tears are no grief; and from his rosy bowers</div> - <div class="i1">The Oriental sun began to rise,</div> - <div class="i1">Chasing the darksome shadows from the skies;</div> - <div class="i1">Wherewith that sable Serpent far away</div> - <div class="i1">Fled, like a part of night—delicious sighs</div> - <div class="i1">From waking blossoms purified the day,</div> - <div>And little birds were singing sweetly from each spray.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Thomas Hood</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_324">324</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE EARL OF MAR'S DAUGHTER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It was intill a pleasant time,</div> - <div class="i1">Upon a simmer's day,</div> - <div>The noble Earl of Mar's daughter</div> - <div class="i1">Went forth to sport and play.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As thus she did amuse hersell,</div> - <div class="i1">Below a green aik tree,</div> - <div>There she saw a sprightly doo<a name="FNanchor_125_125" id="FNanchor_125_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a></div> - <div class="i1">Set on a tower sae hie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true,</div> - <div class="i1">If ye'll come down to me,</div> - <div>Ye'se hae a cage o' guid red gowd</div> - <div class="i1">Instead o' simple tree:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I'll put gowd hingers<a name="FNanchor_126_126" id="FNanchor_126_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> roun' your cage,</div> - <div class="i1">And siller roun' your wa';</div> - <div>I'll gar<a name="FNanchor_127_127" id="FNanchor_127_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a> ye shine as fair a bird</div> - <div class="i1">As ony o' them a'."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But she hadnae these words well spoke,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor yet these words well said,</div> - <div>Till Cow-me-doo flew frae the tower</div> - <div class="i1">And lighted on her head.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then she has brought this pretty bird</div> - <div class="i1">Hame to her bowers and ha',</div> - <div>And made him shine as fair a bird</div> - <div class="i1">As ony o' them a'.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When day was gane, and night was come,</div> - <div class="i1">About the evening tide</div> - <div>This lady spied a sprightly youth</div> - <div class="i1">Stand straight up by her side.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"From whence came ye, young man?" she said;</div> - <div class="i1">"That does surprise me sair;</div> - <div>My door was bolted right secure,</div> - <div class="i1">What way hae ye come here?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O had<a name="FNanchor_128_128" id="FNanchor_128_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a> your tongue, ye lady fair,</div> - <div class="i1">Lat a' your folly be;</div> - <div>Mind ye not on your turtle-doo</div> - <div class="i1">Last day ye brought wi' thee?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O tell me mair, young man," she said,</div> - <div class="i1">"This does surprise me now;</div> - <div>What country hae ye come frae?</div> - <div class="i1">What pedigree are you?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My mither lives on foreign isles,</div> - <div class="i1">She has nae mair but me;</div> - <div>She is a queen o' wealth and state,</div> - <div class="i1">And birth and high degree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Likewise well skilled in magic spells,</div> - <div class="i1">As ye may plainly see,</div> - <div>And she transformed me to yon shape,</div> - <div class="i1">To charm such maids as thee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I am a doo the live-lang day,</div> - <div class="i1">A sprightly youth at night;</div> - <div>This aye gars me appear mair fair</div> - <div class="i1">In a fair maiden's sight.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And it was but this verra day</div> - <div class="i1">That I came ower the sea;</div> - <div>Your lovely face did me enchant;</div> - <div class="i1">I'll live and dee wi' thee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true,</div> - <div class="i1">Nae mair frae me ye'se gae";</div> - <div>"That's never my intent, my luve,</div> - <div class="i1">As ye said, it shall be sae...."</div> - </div> - - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_325"><a href="#note_325">325</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BROOMFIELD HILL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1"><i>Brome, brome on hill,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>The gentle brome on hill, hill,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Brome, brome on Hive hill,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>The gentle brome on Hive hill,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>The brome stands on Hive hill-a....</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O where were ye, my milk-white steed,</div> - <div class="i1">That I hae coft<a name="FNanchor_129_129" id="FNanchor_129_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> sae dear,</div> - <div>That wadna' watch and waken me</div> - <div class="i1">When there was maiden here?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I stampèd wi' my foot, master,</div> - <div class="i1">And gard my bridle ring,</div> - <div>But na kin thing wald waken ye,</div> - <div class="i1">Till she was past and gane."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk,</div> - <div class="i1">That I did love sae dear,</div> - <div>That wadna' watch and waken me</div> - <div class="i1">When there was maiden here."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I clappèd wi' my wings, master,</div> - <div class="i1">And aye my bells I rang,</div> - <div>And aye cryed, Waken, waken, master,</div> - <div class="i1">Before the ladye gang."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But haste and haste, my guide white steed,</div> - <div class="i1">To come the maiden till,</div> - <div>Or a' the birds of gude green wood</div> - <div class="i1">Of your flesh shall have their fill."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Ye need no burst your gude white steed</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' racing o'er the howm;<a name="FNanchor_130_130" id="FNanchor_130_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a></div> - <div>Nae bird flies faster through the wood,</div> - <div class="i1">Than she fled through the broom."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_326"><a href="#note_326">326</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CHANGELING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Toll no bell for me, dear Father, dear Mother,</div> - <div class="i4">Waste no sighs;</div> - <div>There are my sisters, there is my little brother</div> - <div class="i1">Who plays in the place called Paradise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></div> - <div>Your children all, your children for ever;</div> - <div class="i4">But I, so wild,</div> - <div>Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never,</div> - <div class="i1">Never, I know, but half your child!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In the garden at play, all day, last summer,</div> - <div class="i4">Far and away I heard</div> - <div>The sweet "tweet-tweet" of a strange new-comer,</div> - <div class="i1">The dearest, clearest call of a bird.</div> - <div>It lived down there in the deep green hollow,</div> - <div class="i1">My own old home, and the fairies say</div> - <div>The word of a bird is a thing to follow,</div> - <div class="i1">So I was away a night and a day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>One evening, too, by the nursery fire,</div> - <div class="i1">We snuggled close and sat round so still,</div> - <div>When suddenly as the wind blew higher,</div> - <div class="i1">Something scratched on the window-sill,</div> - <div>A pinched brown face peered in—I shivered;</div> - <div class="i1">No one listened or seemed to see;</div> - <div>The arms of it waved and the wings of it quivered,</div> - <div class="i1">Whoo—I knew it had come for me!</div> - <div class="i1">Some are as bad as bad can be!</div> - <div>All night long they danced in the rain,</div> - <div>Round and round in a dripping chain,</div> - <div>Threw their caps at the window-pane,</div> - <div class="i1">Tried to make me scream and shout</div> - <div class="i1">And fling the bedclothes all about:</div> - <div>I meant to stay in bed that night,</div> - <div>And if only you had left a light</div> - <div class="i1">They would never have got me out!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Sometimes I wouldn't speak, you see,</div> - <div class="i2">Or answer when you spoke to me,</div> - <div>Because in the long, still dusks of Spring</div> - <div>You can hear the whole world whispering;</div> - <div class="i1">The shy green grasses making love,</div> - <div class="i1">The feathers grow on the dear grey dove,</div> - <div class="i1">The tiny heart of the redstart beat,</div> - <div class="i1">The patter of the squirrel's feet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></div> - <div>The pebbles pushing in the silver streams,</div> - <div>The rushes talking in their dreams,</div> - <div class="i1">The swish-swish of the bat's black wings,</div> - <div class="i1">The wild-wood bluebell's sweet ting-tings,</div> - <div class="i2">Humming and hammering at your ear,</div> - <div class="i2">Everything there is to hear</div> - <div>In the heart of hidden things.</div> - <div class="i1">But not in the midst of the nursery riot,</div> - <div class="i1">That's why I wanted to be quiet,</div> - <div class="i2">Couldn't do my sums, or sing,</div> - <div class="i2">Or settle down to anything.</div> - <div class="i1">And when, for that, I was sent upstairs</div> - <div class="i1">I <i>did</i> kneel down to say my prayers;</div> - <div>But the King who sits on your high church steeple</div> - <div>Has nothing to do with us fairy people!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Times I pleased you, dear Father, dear Mother,</div> - <div class="i1">Learned all my lessons and liked to play,</div> - <div>And dearly I loved the little pale brother</div> - <div class="i1">Whom some other bird must have called away.</div> - <div>Why did they bring me here to make me</div> - <div class="i1">Not quite bad and not quite good,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Why, unless They're wicked, do They want, in spite, to take me</div> - <div class="i4">Back to Their wet, wild wood?</div> - <div>Now, every night I shall see the windows shining,</div> - <div class="i1">The gold lamp's glow, and the fire's red gleam,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">While the best of us are twining twigs and the rest of us are whining</div> - <div class="i4">In the hollow by the stream.</div> - <div>Black and chill are Their nights on the wold;</div> - <div class="i1">And They live so long and They feel no pain:</div> - <div>I shall grow up, but never grow old,</div> - <div>I shall always, always be very cold,</div> - <div class="i4">I shall never come back again!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Charlotte Mew</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_327">327</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE HOST OF THE AIR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O'Driscoll drove with a song</div> - <div>The wild duck and the drake</div> - <div>From the tall and the tufted reeds</div> - <div>Of the drear Hart Lake.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And he saw how the reeds grew dark</div> - <div>At the coming of night tide,</div> - <div>And dreamed of the long dim hair</div> - <div>Of Bridget his bride.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He heard while he sang and dreamed</div> - <div>A piper piping away,</div> - <div>And never was piping so sad,</div> - <div>And never was piping so gay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And he saw young men and young girls</div> - <div>Who danced on a level place</div> - <div>And Bridget his bride among them,</div> - <div>With a sad and a gay face.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The dancers crowded about him,</div> - <div>And many a sweet thing said,</div> - <div>And a young man brought him red wine</div> - <div>And a young girl white bread.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But Bridget drew him by the sleeve,</div> - <div>Away from the merry bands,</div> - <div>To old men playing at cards</div> - <div>With a twinkling of ancient hands.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The bread and the wine had a doom,</div> - <div>For these were the host of the air;</div> - <div>He sat and played in a dream</div> - <div>Of her long dim hair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He played with the merry old men</div> - <div>And thought not of evil chance,</div> - <div>Until one bore Bridget his bride</div> - <div>Away from the merry dance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He bore her away in his arms,</div> - <div>The handsomest young man there,</div> - <div>And his neck and his breast and his arms</div> - <div>Were drowned in her long dim hair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O'Driscoll scattered the cards</div> - <div>And out of his dream awoke:</div> - <div>Old men and young men and young girls</div> - <div>Were gone like a drifting smoke;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But he heard high up in the air</div> - <div>A piper piping away,</div> - <div>And never was piping so sad,</div> - <div>And never was piping so gay.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">W. B. Yeats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_328">328</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LOVE-TALKER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I met the Love-Talker one eve in the glen,</div> - <div>He was handsomer than any of our handsome young men,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">His eyes were blacker than the sloe, his voice sweeter far</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Than the crooning of old Kevin's pipes beyond in Coolnagar.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">I was bound for the milking with a heart fair and free—</div> - <div class="hangingindent">My grief! my grief! that bitter hour drained the life from me;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I thought him human lover, though his lips on mine were cold,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the breath of death blew keen on me within his hold.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I know not what way he came, no shadow fell behind,</div> - <div>But all the sighing rushes swayed beneath a faery wind,</div> - <div>The thrush ceased its singing, a mist crept about,</div> - <div>We two clung together—with the world shut out.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Beyond the ghostly mist I could hear my cattle low,</div> - <div>The little cow from Ballina, clean as driven snow,</div> - <div>The dun cow from Kerry, the roan from Inisheer,</div> - <div>Oh, pitiful their calling—and his whispers in my ear!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His eyes were a fire; his words were a snare;</div> - <div>I cried my mother's name, but no help was there;</div> - <div>I made the blessed Sign; then he gave a dreary moan,</div> - <div>A wisp of cloud went floating by, and I stood alone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Running ever through my head, is an old-time rune—</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Who meets the Love-Talker must weave her shroud soon."</div> - <div class="hangingindent">My mother's face is furrowed with the salt tears that fall,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But the kind eyes of my father are the saddest sight of all.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have spun the fleecy lint, and now my wheel is still,</div> - <div>The linen length is woven for my shroud fine and chill,</div> - <div>I shall stretch me on the bed where a happy maid I lay—</div> - <div>Pray for the soul of Mairė Og at dawning of the day!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Ethna Carbery</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_329"><a href="#note_329">329</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MARIANA</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With blackest moss the flower-plots</div> - <div class="i1">Were thickly crusted, one and all:</div> - <div>The rusted nails fell from the knots</div> - <div class="i1">That held the pear to the garden-wall.</div> - <div>The broken sheds looked sad and strange:</div> - <div class="i1">Unlifted was the clinking latch;</div> - <div class="i1">Weeded and worn the ancient thatch</div> - <div>Upon the lonely moated grange.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>She only said, "My life is dreary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>He cometh not," she said;</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She said, "I am aweary, aweary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>I would that I were dead!"</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her tears fell with the dews at even;</div> - <div class="i1">Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;</div> - <div>She could not look on the sweet heaven,</div> - <div class="i1">Either at morn or eventide.</div> - <div>After the flitting of the bats,</div> - <div class="i1">When thickest dark did trance the sky,</div> - <div class="i1">She drew her casement-curtain by,</div> - <div>And glanced athwart the glooming flats.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She only said, "The night is dreary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>He cometh not," she said;</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She said, "I am aweary, aweary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>I would that I were dead!"</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Upon the middle of the night,</div> - <div class="i1">Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:</div> - <div>The cock sung out an hour ere light:</div> - <div class="i1">From the dark fen the oxen's low</div> - <div>Came to her: without hope of change,</div> - <div class="i1">In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn,</div> - <div class="i1">Till cold winds woke the grey-eyed morn</div> - <div>About the lonely moated grange.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>She only said, "The day is dreary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>He cometh not," she said;</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She said, "I am aweary, aweary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>I would that I were dead!"</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>About a stone-cast from the wall</div> - <div class="i1">A sluice with blackened waters slept,</div> - <div>And o'er it many, round and small,</div> - <div class="i1">The clustered marish-mosses crept.</div> - <div>Hard by a poplar shook alway,</div> - <div class="i1">All silver-green with gnarlèd bark:</div> - <div class="i1">For leagues no other tree did mark</div> - <div>The level waste, the rounding grey.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>She only said, "My life is dreary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>He cometh not," she said;</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She said, "I am aweary, aweary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>I would that I were dead!"</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And ever when the moon was low,</div> - <div class="i1">And the shrill winds were up and away,</div> - <div>In the white curtain, to and fro,</div> - <div class="i1">She saw the gusty shadow sway.</div> - <div>But when the moon was very low,</div> - <div class="i1">And wild winds bound within their cell,</div> - <div class="i1">The shadow of the poplar fell</div> - <div>Upon her bed, across her brow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She only said, "The night is dreary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>He cometh not," she said;</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She said, "I am aweary, aweary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>I would that I were dead!"</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All day within the dreamy house,</div> - <div class="i1">The doors upon their hinges creaked;</div> - <div>The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse</div> - <div class="i1">Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked,</div> - <div>Or from the crevice peered about.</div> - <div class="i1">Old faces glimmered thro' the doors,</div> - <div class="i1">Old footsteps trod the upper floors,</div> - <div>Old voices called her from without.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>She only said, "My life is dreary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>He cometh not," she said;</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She said, "I am aweary, aweary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>I would that I were dead!"</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,</div> - <div class="i1">The slow clock ticking, and the sound</div> - <div>Which to the wooing wind aloof</div> - <div class="i1">The poplar made, did all confound</div> - <div>Her sense; but most she loathed the hour</div> - <div class="i1">When the thick-moted sunbeam lay</div> - <div class="i1">Athwart the chambers, and the day</div> - <div>Was sloping toward his western bower.</div> - <div class="i3"><i>Then, said she, "I am very dreary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>He will not come," she said;</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>She wept, "I am aweary, aweary,</i></div> - <div class="i4"><i>Oh God, that I were dead!"</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_330">330</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>KEITH OF RAVELSTON</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The murmur of the mourning ghost</div> - <div class="i1">That keeps the shadowy kine,</div> - <div>"Oh, Keith of Ravelston,</div> - <div class="i1">The sorrows of thy line!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ravelston, Ravelston,</div> - <div class="i1">The merry path that leads</div> - <div>Down the golden morning hill,</div> - <div class="i1">And thro' the silver meads;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ravelston, Ravelston,</div> - <div class="i1">The stile beneath the tree,</div> - <div>The maid that kept her mother's kine,</div> - <div class="i1">The song that sang she!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She sang her song, she kept her kine,</div> - <div class="i1">She sat beneath the thorn</div> - <div>When Andrew Keith of Ravelston</div> - <div class="i1">Rode thro' the Monday morn.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His henchmen sing, his hawk-bells ring,</div> - <div class="i1">His belted jewels shine!</div> - <div>Oh, Keith of Ravelston,</div> - <div class="i1">The sorrows of thy line!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Year after year, where Andrew came,</div> - <div class="i1">Comes evening down the glade,</div> - <div>And still there sits a moonshine ghost</div> - <div class="i1">Where sat the sunshine maid.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her misty hair is faint and fair,</div> - <div class="i1">She keeps the shadowy kine;</div> - <div>Oh, Keith of Ravelston,</div> - <div class="i1">The sorrows of thy line!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I lay my hand upon the stile,</div> - <div class="i1">The stile is lone and cold,</div> - <div>The burnie that goes babbling by</div> - <div class="i1">Says naught that can be told.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet, stranger! here, from year to year,</div> - <div class="i1">She keeps her shadowy kine;</div> - <div>Oh, Keith of Ravelston,</div> - <div class="i1">The sorrows of thy line!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Step out three steps, where Andrew stood—</div> - <div class="i1">Why blanch thy cheeks for fear?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></div> - <div>The ancient stile is not alone,</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis not the burn I hear!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She makes her immemorial moan,</div> - <div class="i1">She keeps her shadowy kine;</div> - <div>Oh, Keith of Ravelston,</div> - <div class="i1">The sorrows of thy line!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Sydney Dobell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_331">331</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UNWELCOME</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We were young, we were merry, we were very very wise,</div> - <div class="i1">And the door stood open at our feast,</div> - <div>When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">And a man with his back to the East.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,</div> - <div class="i1">The loudest voice was still.</div> - <div>The jest died away on our lips as they passed,</div> - <div class="i1">And the rays of July struck chill.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The cups of red wine turned pale on the board,</div> - <div class="i1">The white bread black as soot.</div> - <div>The hound forgot the hand of her lord,</div> - <div class="i1">She fell down at his foot.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Low let me lie, where the dead dog lies,</div> - <div class="i1">Ere I sit me down again at a feast,</div> - <div>When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">And a man with his back to the East.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Mary Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_332"><a href="#note_332">332</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ON YES TOR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Beneath our feet, the shuddering bogs</div> - <div class="i1">Made earthquakes of their own,</div> - <div>For greenish-grizzled furtive frogs</div> - <div class="i1">And lizards lithe and brown;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And high to east and south and west,</div> - <div class="i1">Girt round the feet with gorse,</div> - <div>Lay, summering, breast by giant breast,</div> - <div class="i1">The titan brood of tors;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Golden and phantom-pale they lay,</div> - <div class="i1">Calm in the cloudless light,</div> - <div>Like gods that, slumbering, still survey</div> - <div class="i1">The obsequious infinite.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Plod, plod, through herbage thin or dense;</div> - <div class="i1">Past chattering rills of quartz;</div> - <div>Across brown bramble-coverts, whence</div> - <div class="i1">The shy black ouzel darts;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Through empty leagues of broad, bare lands,</div> - <div class="i1">Beneath the empty skies,</div> - <div>Clutched in the grip of those vast hands,</div> - <div class="i1">Cowed by those golden eyes,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We fled beneath their scornful stare,</div> - <div class="i1">Like terror-hunted dogs,</div> - <div>More timid than the lizards were,</div> - <div class="i1">And shyer than the frogs.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Edmund Gosse</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_333"><a href="#note_333">333</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WITCHES' SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I have beene all day looking after</div> - <div>A raven feeding upon a quarter;</div> - <div>And, soone as she turned her back to the south,</div> - <div>I snatched this morsell out of her mouth."...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I last night lay all alone</div> - <div>O' the ground, to heare the madrake grone;</div> - <div>And pluckt him up, though he grew full low:</div> - <div>And, as I had done, the cocke did crow."...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And I ha' been plucking (plants among)</div> - <div>Hemlock, henbane, adders-tongue,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></div> - <div>Night-shade, moone-wort, libbards-bane;</div> - <div>And twise by the dogges was like to be tane."...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Yes: I have brought, to helpe your vows,</div> - <div>Hornèd poppie, cypresse boughes,</div> - <div>The fig-tree wild, that grows on tombes,</div> - <div>And juice that from the larch-tree comes,</div> - <div>The basiliske's bloud, and the viper's skin;</div> - <div>And now our orgies let's begin."</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Ben Jonson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_334"><a href="#note_334">334</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE RAVEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,—</div> - <div class="hangingindent">While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;</div> - <div class="i1">Only this and nothing more."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow</div> - <div class="hangingindent">From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore:</div> - <div class="i1">Nameless here for evermore.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;</div> - <div class="i1">This it is and nothing more."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door:—</div> - <div class="i1">Darkness there and nothing more.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"</div> - <div class="hangingindent">This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore:"</div> - <div class="i1">Merely this and nothing more.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;</div> - <div class="i1">'Tis the wind and nothing more."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door:</div> - <div class="i1">Perched, and sat, and nothing more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling</div> - <div class="hangingindent">By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,—</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"</div> - <div class="i1">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,</div> - <div class="i1">With such name as "Nevermore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Till I scarcely more than muttered,—"Other friends have flown before;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."</div> - <div class="i1">Then the bird said, "Nevermore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore</div> - <div class="i1">Of 'Never—nevermore.'"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore</div> - <div class="i1">Meant in croaking "Nevermore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing</div> - <div class="hangingindent">To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining</div> - <div class="hangingindent">On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er</div> - <div class="i1">She shall press, ah, nevermore!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"</div> - <div class="i1">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Whether Tempter sent or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"</div> - <div class="i1">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil prophet still, if bird or devil!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!"</div> - <div class="i1">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door!</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"</div> - <div class="i1">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting</div> - <div class="hangingindent">On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor</div> - <div class="i1">Shall be lifted—nevermore!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Edgar Allan Poe</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_335"><a href="#note_335">335</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WITCH'S BALLAD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, I hae come from far away,</div> - <div class="i1">From a warm land far away,</div> - <div>A southern land across the sea,</div> - <div>With sailor-lads about the mast,</div> - <div>Merry and canny, and kind to me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And I hae been to yon town</div> - <div class="i1">To try my luck in yon town;</div> - <div>Nort, and Mysie, Elspie too.</div> - <div>Right braw we were to pass the gate,</div> - <div>Wi' gowden-clasps on girdles blue.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Mysie smiled wi' miminy mouth,</div> - <div class="i1">Innocent mouth, miminy mouth;</div> - <div>Elspie wore a scarlet gown.</div> - <div>Nort's grey eyes were unco' gleg.<a name="FNanchor_131_131" id="FNanchor_131_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a></div> - <div>My Castile comb was like a crown.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We walk'd abreast all up the street,</div> - <div class="i1">Into the market up the street;</div> - <div>Our hair with marigolds was wound,</div> - <div>Our bodices with love-knots laced,</div> - <div>Our merchandise with tansy bound.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Nort had chickens, I had cocks;</div> - <div class="i1">Gamesome cocks, loud-crowing cocks;</div> - <div>Mysie ducks, and Elspie drakes,—</div> - <div>For a wee groat or a pound</div> - <div>We lost nae time wi' gives and takes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>—Lost nae time for well we knew,</div> - <div class="i1">In our sleeves full well we knew,</div> - <div>When the gloaming came that night,</div> - <div>Duck nor drake, nor hen nor cock</div> - <div>Would be found by candle-light.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And when our chaffering all was done,</div> - <div class="i1">All was paid for, sold and done,</div> - <div>We drew a glove on ilka hand,</div> - <div>We sweetly curtsied, each to each.</div> - <div>And deftly danced a saraband.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The market-lassies looked and laughed,</div> - <div class="i1">Left their gear, and looked and laughed;</div> - <div>They made as they would join the game,</div> - <div>But soon their mithers, wild and wud,<a name="FNanchor_132_132" id="FNanchor_132_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_132_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a></div> - <div>With whack and screech they stopped the same.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sae loud the tongues o' randies<a name="FNanchor_133_133" id="FNanchor_133_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_133_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> grew,</div> - <div class="i1">The flytin'<a name="FNanchor_134_134" id="FNanchor_134_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> and the skirlin' grew,</div> - <div>At all the windows in the place,</div> - <div>Wi' spoons or knives, wi' needle or awl,</div> - <div>Was thrust out every hand and face.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And down each stair they thronged anon,</div> - <div class="i1">Gentle, semple, thronged anon;</div> - <div>Souter<a name="FNanchor_135_135" id="FNanchor_135_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_135_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a> and tailor, frowsy Nan,</div> - <div>The ancient widow young again,</div> - <div>Simpering behind her fan.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Without a choice, against their will,</div> - <div class="i1">Doited,<a name="FNanchor_136_136" id="FNanchor_136_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_136_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> dazed, against their will,</div> - <div>The market lassie and her mither,</div> - <div>The farmer and his husbandman,</div> - <div>Hand in hand dance a' thegither.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Slow at first, but faster soon,</div> - <div class="i1">Still increasing, wild and fast,</div> - <div>Hoods and mantles, hats and hose,</div> - <div>Blindly doffed and cast away,</div> - <div>Left them naked, heads and toes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They would have torn us limb from limb,</div> - <div class="i1">Dainty limb from dainty limb;</div> - <div>But never one of them could win</div> - <div>Across the line that I had drawn</div> - <div>With bleeding thumb a-widdershin.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But there was Jeff the provost's son,</div> - <div class="i1">Jeff the provost's only son;</div> - <div>There was Father Auld himsel',</div> - <div>The Lombard frae the hostelry,</div> - <div>And the lawyer Peter Fell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All goodly men we singled out,</div> - <div class="i1">Waled<a name="FNanchor_137_137" id="FNanchor_137_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_137_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a> them well, and singled out,</div> - <div>And drew them by the left hand in;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></div> - <div>Mysie the priest, and Elspie won</div> - <div>The Lombard, Nort the lawyer carle,</div> - <div>I mysel' the provost's son.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then, with cantrip<a name="FNanchor_138_138" id="FNanchor_138_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_138_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> kisses seven,</div> - <div class="i1">Three times round with kisses seven,</div> - <div>Warped and woven there spun we</div> - <div>Arms and legs and flaming hair,</div> - <div>Like a whirlwind on the sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Like a wind that sucks the sea,</div> - <div class="i1">Over and in and on the sea,</div> - <div>Good sooth it was a mad delight;</div> - <div>And every man of all the four</div> - <div>Shut his eyes and laughed outright.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Laughed as long as they had breath,</div> - <div class="i1">Laughed while they had sense or breath;</div> - <div>And close about us coiled a mist</div> - <div>Of gnats and midges, wasps and flies,</div> - <div>Like the whirlwind shaft it rist.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Drawn up I was right off my feet,</div> - <div class="i1">Into the mist and off my feet;</div> - <div>And, dancing on each chimney-top,</div> - <div>I saw a thousand darling imps</div> - <div>Keeping time with skip and hop.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And on the provost's brave ridge-tile,</div> - <div class="i1">On the provost's grand ridge-tile,</div> - <div>The Blackamoor first to master me</div> - <div>I saw, I saw that winsome smile,</div> - <div>The mouth that did my heart beguile,</div> - <div>And spoke the great Word over me,</div> - <div>In the land beyond the sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I called his name, I called aloud,</div> - <div class="i1">Alas! I called on him aloud;</div> - <div>And then he filled his hand with stour,<a name="FNanchor_139_139" id="FNanchor_139_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_139_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a></div> - <div>And threw it towards me in the air;</div> - <div>My mouse flew out, I lost my pow'r!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My lusty strength, my power were gone;</div> - <div class="i1">Power was gone, and all was gone.</div> - <div>He will not let me love him more!</div> - <div>Of bell and whip and horse's tail</div> - <div>He cares not if I find a store.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But I am proud if he is fierce!</div> - <div class="i1">I am as proud as he is fierce;</div> - <div>I'll turn about and backward go,</div> - <div>If I meet again that Blackamoor,</div> - <div>And he'll help us then, for he shall know</div> - <div>I seek another paramour.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And we'll gang once more to yon town,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' better luck to yon town;</div> - <div>We'll walk in silk and cramoisie,</div> - <div>And I shall wed the provost's son</div> - <div>My lady of the town I'll be!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For I was born a crowned king's child,</div> - <div class="i1">Born and nursed a king's child,</div> - <div>King o' a land ayont the sea,</div> - <div>Where the Blackamoor kissed me first,</div> - <div>And taught me art and glamourie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Each one in her wame shall hide</div> - <div class="i1">Her hairy mouse, her wary mouse,</div> - <div>Fed on madwort and agramie,—</div> - <div>Wear amber beads between her breasts,</div> - <div>And blind-worm's skin about her knee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Lombard shall be Elspie's man,</div> - <div class="i1">Elspie's gowden husband-man;</div> - <div>Nort shall take the lawyer's hand;</div> - <div>The priest shall swear another vow;</div> - <div>We'll dance again the saraband!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Bell Scott</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_336"><a href="#note_336">336</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ANNAN WATER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Annan Water's wading deep,</div> - <div class="i1">"And my Love Annie's wondrous bonny;</div> - <div>And I am loath she should wet her feet,</div> - <div class="i1">Because I love her best of ony."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's loupen on his bonny gray,</div> - <div class="i1">He rode the right gate<a name="FNanchor_140_140" id="FNanchor_140_140"></a><a href="#Footnote_140_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a> and the ready;<a name="FNanchor_141_141" id="FNanchor_141_141"></a><a href="#Footnote_141_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a></div> - <div>For all the storm he wadna stay,</div> - <div class="i1">For seeking of his bonny lady.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And he has ridden o'er field and fell,</div> - <div class="i1">Through moor, and moss, and many a mire;</div> - <div>His spurs of steel were sair to bide,</div> - <div class="i1">And from her four feet flew the fire.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My bonny gray, now play your part!</div> - <div class="i1">If ye be the steed that wins my dearie,</div> - <div>With corn and hay ye'll be fed for aye,</div> - <div class="i1">And never spur shall make you wearie."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The gray was a mare, and a right gude mare;</div> - <div class="i1">But when she wan the Annan Water,</div> - <div>She should not have ridden the ford that night</div> - <div class="i1">Had a thousand marks been wadded at her.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O boatman, boatman, put off your boat,</div> - <div class="i1">Put off your boat for golden money!"</div> - <div>But for all the gold in fair Scotland,</div> - <div class="i1">He dared not take him through to Annie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O I was sworn so late yestreen,</div> - <div class="i1">Not by a single oath, but mony!</div> - <div>I'll cross the drumly stream to-night,</div> - <div class="i1">Or never could I face my honey."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The side was steep, and the bottom deep,</div> - <div class="i1">From bank to brae the water pouring;</div> - <div>The bonny gray mare she swat for fear,</div> - <div class="i1">For she heard the Water-Kelpy roaring.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He spurred her forth into the flood,</div> - <div class="i1">I wot she swam both strong and steady;</div> - <div>But the stream was broad, and her strength did fail,</div> - <div class="i1">And he never saw his bonny lady!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_337">337</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh:</div> - <div class="i1">The sun has left the lea,</div> - <div>The orange flower perfumes the bower,</div> - <div class="i1">The breeze is on the sea,</div> - <div>The lark, his lay who thrilled all day,</div> - <div class="i1">Sits hushed his partner nigh:</div> - <div>Breeze, bird, and flower, confess the hour,</div> - <div class="i1">But where is County Guy?—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The village maid steals through the shade,</div> - <div class="i1">Her shepherd's suit to hear;</div> - <div>To beauty shy, by lattice high,</div> - <div class="i1">Sings high-born Cavalier;</div> - <div>The star of Love, all stars above,</div> - <div class="i1">Now reigns o'er earth and sky,</div> - <div>And high and low the influence know—</div> - <div class="i1">But where is County Guy?</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Sir Walter Scott</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_338">338</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DEADMAN'S DIRGE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Prayer unsaid, and Mass unsung,</div> - <div>Deadman's dirge must still be rung:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Dingle-dong</i>, the dead-bells sound!</div> - <div class="i2">Mermen chant his dirge around!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wash him bloodless, smooth him fair,</div> - <div>Stretch his limbs, and sleek his hair:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Dingle-dong</i>, the dead-bells go!</div> - <div class="i2">Mermen swing them to and fro!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In the wormless sand shall he</div> - <div>Feast for no foul glutton be:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Dingle-dong</i>, the dead-bells chime!</div> - <div class="i2">Mermen keep the tone and time!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We must with a tombstone brave</div> - <div>Shut the shark out from his grave:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Dingle-dong</i>, the dead-bells toll!</div> - <div class="i2">Mermen dirgers ring his knoll!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Such a slab will we lay o'er him,</div> - <div>All the dead shall rise before him:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Dingle-dong</i>, the dead-bells boom!</div> - <div class="i2">Mermen lay him in his tomb!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">George Darley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_339">339</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BOATS AT NIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How lovely is the sound of oars at night</div> - <div class="i1">And unknown voices, borne through windless air,</div> - <div>From shadowy vessels floating out of sight</div> - <div class="i1">Beyond the harbour lantern's broken glare</div> - <div>To those piled rocks that make on the dark wave</div> - <div class="i1">Only a darker stain. The splashing oars</div> - <div>Slide softly on as in an echoing cave</div> - <div class="i1">And with the whisper of the unseen shores</div> - <div>Mingle their music, till the bell of night</div> - <div class="i1">Murmurs reverberations low and deep</div> - <div>That droop towards the land in swooning flight</div> - <div class="i1">Like whispers from the lazy lips of sleep.</div> - <div>The oars grow faint. Below the cloud-dim hill</div> - <div>The shadows fade and now the bay is still.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Edward Shanks</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_340">340</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A VOICE SINGS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell,</div> - <div>Lest a blacker charm compel!</div> - <div>So shall the midnight breezes swell</div> - <div>With thy deep long-lingering knell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And at evening evermore,</div> - <div>In a chapel on the shore,</div> - <div>Shall the chaunters, sad and saintly,</div> - <div>Yellow tapers burning faintly,</div> - <div>Doleful masses chaunt for thee,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Miserere Domine!</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hark, the cadence dies away</div> - <div class="i1">On the quiet moonlight sea:</div> - <div>The boatmen rest their oars; and say,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Miserere Domine!</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_341"><a href="#note_341">341</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WANDERING SPECTRE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wae's me, wae's me,</div> - <div>The acorn's not yet</div> - <div>Fallen from the tree</div> - <div>That's to grow the wood,</div> - <div>That's to make the cradle,</div> - <div>That's to rock the bairn,</div> - <div>That's to grow a man,</div> - <div>That's to lay me.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_342">342</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LUCIFER IN STARLIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.</div> - <div>Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend</div> - <div>Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened,</div> - <div>Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose.</div> - <div>Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.</div> - <div>And now upon his western wing he leaned,</div> - <div>Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands careened,</div> - <div>Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows.</div> - <div>Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars</div> - <div>With memory of the old revolt from Awe,</div> - <div>He reached a middle height, and at the stars,</div> - <div>Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank.</div> - <div>Around the ancient track marched rank on rank,</div> - <div>The army of unalterable law.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">George Meredith</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_343"><a href="#note_343">343</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THERE WAS A KNIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was a knicht riding frae the east,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Jennifer gentle an' rosemaree</i>.</div> - <div>Who had been wooing at monie a place,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As the doo<a name="FNanchor_142_142" id="FNanchor_142_142"></a><a href="#Footnote_142_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> flies owre the mulberry tree</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He cam' unto a widow's door,</div> - <div>And speird<a name="FNanchor_143_143" id="FNanchor_143_143"></a><a href="#Footnote_143_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a> whare her three dochters were.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The auldest ane's to a washing gane,</div> - <div>The second's to a baking gane."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The youngest ane's to a wedding gane,</div> - <div>And it will be nicht or<a name="FNanchor_144_144" id="FNanchor_144_144"></a><a href="#Footnote_144_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a> she be hame."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He sat him doun upon a stane,</div> - <div>Till thir three lasses cam' tripping hame.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The auldest ane she let him in,</div> - <div>And pinned the door wi' a siller pin.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The second ane she made his bed,</div> - <div>And laid saft pillows unto his head.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The youngest ane was bauld<a name="FNanchor_145_145" id="FNanchor_145_145"></a><a href="#Footnote_145_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> and bricht,</div> - <div>And she tarried for words wi' this unco knicht.—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Gin ye will answer me questions ten,</div> - <div>The morn ye sall me made my ain:—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O what is higher nor<a name="FNanchor_146_146" id="FNanchor_146_146"></a><a href="#Footnote_146_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a> the tree?</div> - <div>And what is deeper nor the sea?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Or what is heavier nor the lead?</div> - <div>And what is better nor the bread?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Or what is whiter nor the milk?</div> - <div>Or what is safter nor the silk?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Or what is sharper nor a thorn?</div> - <div>Or what is louder nor a horn?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Or what is greener nor the grass?</div> - <div>Or what is waur<a name="FNanchor_147_147" id="FNanchor_147_147"></a><a href="#Footnote_147_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> nor a woman was?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O heaven is higher nor the tree,</div> - <div>And hell is deeper nor the sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O sin is heavier nor the lead,</div> - <div>The blessing's better nor the bread.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The snaw is whiter nor the milk,</div> - <div>And the down is safter nor the silk.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Hunger is sharper nor a thorn,</div> - <div>And shame is louder nor a horn.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The pies are greener nor the grass,</div> - <div>And Clootie's waur nor a woman was."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As sune as she the fiend did name,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Jennifer gentle an' rosemaree</i>,</div> - <div>He flew awa' in a blazing flame,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As the doo flies owre the mulberry tree</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_344"><a href="#note_344">344</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FALSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O whare are ye gaun?"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"I'm gaun to the scule."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"What is that upon your back?"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"Atweel<a name="FNanchor_148_148" id="FNanchor_148_148"></a><a href="#Footnote_148_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a> it is my bukes."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"What's that ye've got in your arm?"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"Atweel it is my peit."<a name="FNanchor_149_149" id="FNanchor_149_149"></a><a href="#Footnote_149_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Wha's aucht<a name="FNanchor_150_150" id="FNanchor_150_150"></a><a href="#Footnote_150_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> they sheep?"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"They're mine and my mither's."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"How monie o' them are mine?"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"A' they that hae blue tails."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I wiss ye were on yon tree:"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"And a gude ladder under me."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And the ladder for to break:"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"And you for to fa' down."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I wiss ye were in yon sie:"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"And a gude bottom<a name="FNanchor_151_151" id="FNanchor_151_151"></a><a href="#Footnote_151_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a> under me."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And the bottom for to break:"</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the fause knicht upon the road</i>:</div> - <div>"And ye to be drowned."</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude</i>.</div> - </div> - - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_345"><a href="#note_345">345</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>CHRISTABEL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,</div> - <div>And the owls have awakened the crowing cock;</div> - <div><i>Tu-whit!——Tu-whoo!</i></div> - <div>And hark, again! the crowing cock,</div> - <div>How drowsily it crew.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,</div> - <div>Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span></div> - <div>From her kennel beneath the rock</div> - <div>She maketh answer to the clock,</div> - <div>Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;</div> - <div>Ever and aye, by shine and shower,</div> - <div>Sixteen short howls, not over loud;</div> - <div>Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Is the night chilly and dark?</div> - <div>The night is chilly, but not dark.</div> - <div>The thin gray cloud is spread on high,</div> - <div>It covers but not hides the sky.</div> - <div>The moon is behind, and at the full;</div> - <div>And yet she looks both small and dull.</div> - <div>The night is chill, the cloud is gray:</div> - <div>'Tis a month before the month of May,</div> - <div>And the Spring comes slowly up this way.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The lovely lady, Christabel,</div> - <div>Whom her father loves so well,</div> - <div>What makes her in the wood so late,</div> - <div>A furlong from the castle gate?</div> - <div>She had dreams all yesternight</div> - <div>Of her own betrothèd knight;</div> - <div>And she in the midnight wood will pray</div> - <div>For the weal of her lover that's far away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She stole along, she nothing spoke,</div> - <div>The sighs she heaved were soft and low,</div> - <div>And naught was green upon the oak</div> - <div>But moss and rarest mistletoe:</div> - <div>She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,</div> - <div>And in silence prayeth she.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The lady sprang up suddenly,</div> - <div>The lovely lady, Christabel!</div> - <div>It moaned as near, as near can be,</div> - <div>But what it is she cannot tell.—</div> - <div>On the other side it seems to be,</div> - <div>Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The night is chill; the forest bare;</div> - <div>Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?</div> - <div>There is not wind enough in the air</div> - <div>To move away the ringlet curl</div> - <div>From the lovely lady's cheek—</div> - <div>There is not wind enough to twirl</div> - <div>The one red leaf, the last of its clan,</div> - <div>That dances as often as dance it can,</div> - <div>Hanging so light, and hanging so high,</div> - <div>On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hush, beating heart of Christabel!</div> - <div>Jesu, Maria, shield her well!</div> - <div>She folded her arms beneath her cloak,</div> - <div>And stole to the other side of the oak.</div> - <div class="i1">What sees she there?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There she sees a damsel bright,</div> - <div>Drest in a silken robe of white,</div> - <div>That shadowy in the moonlight shone:</div> - <div>The neck that made that white robe wan—</div> - <div>Her stately neck, and arms were bare;</div> - <div>Her blue-veined feet unsandaled were,</div> - <div>And wildly glittered here and there</div> - <div>The gems entangled in her hair....</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_346">346</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FRUIT PLUCKER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Encinctured with a twine of leaves,</div> - <div>That leafy twine his only dress,</div> - <div>A lovely Boy was plucking fruits,</div> - <div>By moonlight, in a wilderness.</div> - <div>The moon was bright, the air was free,</div> - <div>And fruits and flowers together grew</div> - <div>On many a shrub and many a tree:</div> - <div>And all put on a gentle hue,</div> - <div>Hanging in the shadowy air</div> - <div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span></div> - <div>Like a picture rich and rare.</div> - <div>It was a climate where, they say,</div> - <div>The night is more beloved than day.</div> - <div>But who that beauteous Boy beguiled,</div> - <div>That beauteous Boy to linger here?</div> - <div>Alone, by night, a little child,</div> - <div>In place so silent and so wild—</div> - <div>Has he no friend, no loving mother near?</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_347"><a href="#note_347">347</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE HAUNTED PALACE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In the greenest of our valleys</div> - <div class="i1">By good angels tenanted,</div> - <div>Once a fair and stately palace—</div> - <div class="i1">Radiant palace—reared its head.</div> - <div>In the monarch Thought's dominion</div> - <div class="i2">It stood there!</div> - <div>Never seraph spread a pinion</div> - <div class="i1">Over fabric half so fair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Banners yellow, glorious, golden,</div> - <div class="i1">On its roof did float and flow,</div> - <div>(This—all this—was in the olden</div> - <div class="i2">Time long ago),</div> - <div>And every gentle air that dallied</div> - <div class="i2">In that sweet day,</div> - <div>Along the ramparts plumed and pallid</div> - <div class="i1">A wingèd odour went away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wanderers, in that happy valley,</div> - <div class="i1">Through two luminous windows saw</div> - <div>Spirits moving musically,</div> - <div class="i1">To a lute's well-tunèd law,</div> - <div>Round about a throne, where sitting</div> - <div class="i2">(Porphyrogene),</div> - <div>In state his glory well befitting,</div> - <div class="i1">The ruler of the realm was seen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And all with pearl and ruby glowing</div> - <div class="i1">Was the fair palace door,</div> - <div>Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,</div> - <div class="i1">And sparkling evermore,</div> - <div>A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty</div> - <div class="i2">Was but to sing,</div> - <div>In voices of surpassing beauty,</div> - <div class="i1">The wit and wisdom of their king.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But evil things, in robes of sorrow,</div> - <div class="i1">Assailed the monarch's high estate.</div> - <div>(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow</div> - <div class="i1">Shall dawn upon him desolate!)</div> - <div>And round about his home, the glory,</div> - <div class="i2">That blushed and bloomed,</div> - <div>Is but a dim-remembered story</div> - <div class="i1">Of the old time entombed.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And travellers, now, within that valley,</div> - <div class="i1">Through the red-litten windows see</div> - <div>Vast forms, that move fantastically</div> - <div class="i1">To a discordant melody;</div> - <div>While, like a ghastly rapid river,</div> - <div class="i2">Through the pale door</div> - <div>A hideous throng rush out for ever,</div> - <div class="i1">And laugh—but smile no more.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Edgar Allan Poe</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_348">348</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE HOUSE OF RICHESSE</h4> -<p class="smcap center p-left">neighbouring the gate of Hell into which Mammon led the elfin -knight</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... That houses forme within was rude and strong,</div> - <div class="i1">Like an huge cave, hewne out of rocky clift,</div> - <div class="i1">From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong,</div> - <div class="i1">Embost with massy gold of glorious gift,</div> - <div class="i1">And with rich metall loaded every rift,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">That heavy ruine they did seeme to threat;</div> - <div class="i1">And over them <i>Arachne</i> high did lift</div> - <div class="i1">Her cunning web, and spred her subtile net,</div> - <div>Enwrappèd in fowle smoke and clouds more blacke then jet.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Both roofe, and floore, and wals were all of gold,</div> - <div class="i1">But overgrowne with dust and old decay,</div> - <div class="i1">And hid in darkenesse, that none could behold</div> - <div class="i1">The hew thereof: for vew of chearefull day</div> - <div class="i1">Did never in that house it selfe display,</div> - <div class="i1">But a faint shadow of uncertain light;</div> - <div class="i1">Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away:</div> - <div class="i1">Or as the Noone cloathèd with clowdy night,</div> - <div>Does shew to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In all that rowme was nothing to be seene,</div> - <div class="i1">But huge great yron chests and coffers strong,</div> - <div class="i1">All bard with double bends,<a name="FNanchor_152_152" id="FNanchor_152_152"></a><a href="#Footnote_152_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a> that none could weene</div> - <div class="i1">Them to efforce by violence or wrong;</div> - <div class="i1">On every side they placèd were along.</div> - <div class="i1">But all the ground with sculs was scatterèd,</div> - <div class="i1">And dead mens bones, which round about were flong,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose lives, it seemèd, whilome there were shed,</div> - <div>And their vile carcases now left unburièd....</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Edmund Spenser</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_349">349</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE OLD CITY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thou hast come from the old city,</div> - <div>From the gate and the tower,</div> - <div>From King and priest and serving man</div> - <div>And burnished bower,</div> - <div>From beggar's whine and barking dogs,</div> - <div>From prison sealed—</div> - <div>Thou hast come from the old city</div> - <div>Into the field.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The gables in the old city</div> - <div>Are stooping awry,</div> - <div>They gloom upon the muddy lanes</div> - <div>And smother the sky,</div> - <div>And nightly through those mouldy lanes,</div> - <div>Moping and slow,</div> - <div>They who builded the old city</div> - <div>The cold ghosts go.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There is plague in the old city,</div> - <div>And the priests are sped</div> - <div>To graveyard and vault</div> - <div>To bury the dead;</div> - <div>Brittle bones and dusty breath</div> - <div>To death must yield—</div> - <div>Fly, fly, from the old city</div> - <div>Into the field!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Ruth Manning-Sanders</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_350"><a href="#note_350">350</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE TWO SPIRITS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>First Spirit.</i><span class="i1q">O Thou, who plumed with strong desire</span></div> - <div class="i7">Wouldst float above the earth, beware!</div> - <div class="i6">A shadow tracks the flight of fire—</div> - <div class="i10">Night is coming!</div> - <div class="i7">Bright are the regions of the air,</div> - <div class="i6">And among the winds and beams</div> - <div class="i7">It were delight to wander there—</div> - <div class="i10">Night is coming!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Second Spirit.</i><span class="iq">The deathless stars are bright above;</span></div> - <div class="i7">If I would cross the shade of night,</div> - <div class="i6">Within my heart is the lamp of love,</div> - <div class="i10">And that is day!</div> - <div class="i7">And the moon will smile with gentle light</div> - <div class="i6">On my golden plumes where'er they move;</div> - <div class="i7">The meteors will linger round my flight;</div> - <div class="i10">And make night day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>First Spirit.</i><span class="i1q">But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken</span></div> - <div class="i7">Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain;</div> - <div class="i6">See, the bounds of the air are shaken—</div> - <div class="i10">Night is coming!</div> - <div class="i7">The red swift clouds of the hurricane</div> - <div class="i6">Yon declining sun have overtaken,</div> - <div class="i7 hangingindent">The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain—</div> - <div class="i10">Night is coming!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Second Spirit.</i><span class="iq">I see the light, and I hear the sound;</span></div> - <div class="i7">I'll sail on the flood of the tempests dark,</div> - <div class="i6">With the calm within and the light around</div> - <div class="i10">Which makes night day:</div> - <div class="i7 hangingindent">And then, when the gloom is deep and stark,</div> - <div class="i6">Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound;</div> - <div class="i7 hangingindent">My moon-like flight thou then may'st mark</div> - <div class="i10">On high, far away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Some say there is a precipice</div> - <div class="i7">Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin</div> - <div class="i6">O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice</div> - <div class="i10">'Mid Alpine mountains;</div> - <div class="i7">And that the languid storm pursuing</div> - <div class="i6">That wingèd shape, for ever flies</div> - <div class="i7">Round those hoar branches, aye renewing</div> - <div class="i10">Its aëry fountains.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Some say, when nights are dry and clear,</div> - <div class="i7">And the death-dews sleep on the morass,</div> - <div class="i6">Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller,</div> - <div class="i10">Which make night day;</div> - <div class="i7 hangingindent">And a silver shape, like his early love, doth pass</div> - <div class="i6">Up-borne by her wild and glittering hair,</div> - <div class="i7 hangingindent">And when he awakes on the fragrant grass,</div> - <div class="i10">He finds night day.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_343" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_343.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>"LILY BRIGHT AND SHINE-A"</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_351">351</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SILLY SWEETHEART</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Silly Sweetheart, say not nay,</div> - <div class="i3">Come away:</div> - <div>All I tell is sweet and merry;</div> - <div>Soon rings evensong, and soon</div> - <div>Where was blossom hangs a berry;</div> - <div>Where was darkness shines a moon.</div> - <div>Prythee, Sweetheart, then I say,</div> - <div class="i3">Come, come away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">O away,</div> - <div class="i3">Come away:</div> - <div>Maids there are with cheeks like roses,</div> - <div>Thine are roses in the snow.</div> - <div>Fie, the lass whose dainty nose is</div> - <div>Tilted not as one I know.</div> - <div>Nought heeds she, Alackaday!</div> - <div class="i3">My, Come, come away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">O away,</div> - <div class="i3">Come away:</div> - <div>Honeycomb by bees made sweet is;</div> - <div>Dew on apple, bloom on plum;</div> - <div>Hearken, my heart's lightest beat is</div> - <div>Drumming, drumming; haste and come</div> - <div class="i3">Say not nay, then;</div> - <div class="i3">Make no stay, then;</div> - <div>Dance thy dainty foot and straying</div> - <div class="i3">Come, come away!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_352"><a href="#note_352">352</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HERE COMES A LUSTY WOOER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Here comes a lusty wooer,</div> - <div><i>My a dildin, my a daldin</i>;</div> - <div>Here comes a lusty wooer,</div> - <div><i>Lily bright and shine-a</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Pray who do you woo?</div> - <div><i>My a dildin, my a daldin</i>;</div> - <div>Pray who do you woo?</div> - <div><i>Lily bright and shine-a</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Woo! Your fairest daughter!</div> - <div><i>My a dildin, my a daldin</i>;</div> - <div>Woo! your fairest daughter!</div> - <div><i>Lily bright and shine-a</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"There! there! she is for you,</div> - <div><i>My a dildin, my a daldin</i>;</div> - <div>There! there! she is for you,</div> - <div><i>Lily bright and shine-a</i>."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_353">353</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THREE KNIGHTS FROM SPAIN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We are three Brethren come from Spain,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>We are come to court your daughter Jane,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My daughter Jane!—she is too young,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>She cannot bide your flattering tongue,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Be she young, or be she old,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>'Tis for a bride she must be sold,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A bride, a bride, she shall not be</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span></div> - <div>Till she go through this world with me,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then shall you keep your daughter Jane,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>Come once, we come not here again,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Turn back, turn back, you Spanish Knights,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>Scour, scour your spurs, till they be bright,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sharp shine our spurs, all richly wrought,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>In towns afar our spurs were bought</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Smell my lilies, smell my roses,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>Which of my maidens do you choose?</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Not she. Not she. Thy youngest, Jane!</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>We ride—and ride not back again,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In every pocket a thousand pound,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>All in French garlands</i>;</div> - <div>On every finger a gay gold ring,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And adieu to you, my darlings</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_354">354</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WHUMMIL BORE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Seven lang years I hae served the King,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Fa fa fa fa lilly</i>:</div> - <div>And I never got a sight of his daughter but ane:</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle</i>,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw her thro' a whummil bore,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Fa fa fa fa lilly</i>:</div> - <div>And I ne'er got a sight of her no more.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle</i>,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Twa was putting on her gown,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Fa fa fa fa lilly</i>:</div> - <div>And ten was putting pins therein.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle</i>.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Twa was putting on her shoon,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Fa fa fa fa lilly</i>:</div> - <div>And twa was buckling them again.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle</i>.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Five was combing down her hair,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Fa fa fa fa lilly</i>:</div> - <div>And I ne'er got a sight of her nae mair.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle</i>,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her neck and breast was like the snow,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Fa fa fa fa lilly</i>:</div> - <div>Then from the bore I was forced to go.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle</i>,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_355"><a href="#note_355">355</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HEY, WULLY WINE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hey, Wully wine, and How, Wully wine,</div> - <div>I hope for hame ye'll no' incline;</div> - <div>Ye'll better light, and stay a' night,</div> - <div>And I'll gie thee a lady fine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I maun ride hame, I maun gang hame,</div> - <div class="i1">And bide nae langer here;</div> - <div>The road is lang, the mirk soon on,</div> - <div class="i1">And howlets mak' me fear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Light down, and bide wi' us a' night,</div> - <div class="i1">We'll choose for ye a bonnie lass,</div> - <div>Ye'll get your wield and pick o' them a'</div> - <div class="i1">And the time it soon awa' will pass.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wha will ye gie, if I wi' ye bide,</div> - <div>To be my bonny bonny bride,</div> - <div>And lie down lovely by my side?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'll gie thee Kate o' Dinglebell,</div> - <div>A bonny body like yersell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'll stick her high in yon pear-tree</div> - <div>Sweet and meek, and sae is she:</div> - <div>I' lo'ed her ance, but she's no' for me,</div> - <div>Yet I thank ye for your courtesy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'll gie thee Rozie o' the Cleugh,</div> - <div>I'm sure she'll please thee weel eneugh.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Up wi' her on the bare bane dyke,</div> - <div>She'll be rotten or<a name="FNanchor_153_153" id="FNanchor_153_153"></a><a href="#Footnote_153_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a> I'll be ripe:</div> - <div>She's made for some ither, and no' me,</div> - <div>Yet I thank ye for your courtesy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then I'll gie ye Nell o' sweet Sprinkell,</div> - <div>Owre Galloway she bears the bell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'll set her up in my bed-head,</div> - <div>And feed her wi' new milk and bread;</div> - <div>She's for nae ither, but just for me,</div> - <div>Sae I thank ye for your courtesy.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_356">356</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DOWN IN YONDER MEADOW</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Down in yonder meadow where the green grass grows,</div> - <div>Pretty Pollie Pillicote bleaches her clothes.</div> - <div>She sang, she sang, she sang, oh, so sweet,</div> - <div>She sang, <i>Oh, come over!</i> across the street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span></div> - <div>He kissed her, he kissed her, he bought her a gown,</div> - <div>A gown of rich cramasie out of the town.</div> - <div>He bought her a gown and a guinea gold ring,</div> - <div>A guinea, a guinea, a guinea gold ring;</div> - <div>Up street, and down, shine the windows made of glass,</div> - <div>Oh, isn't Pollie Pillicote a braw young lass?</div> - <div>Cherries in her cheeks, and ringlets her hair,</div> - <div>Hear her singing <i>Handy, Dandy</i> up and down the stair.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_357"><a href="#note_357">357</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>QUOTH JOHN TO JOAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Quoth John to Joan, will thou have me:</div> - <div>I prithee now, wilt? and I'll marry thee,</div> - <div>My cow, my calf, my house, my rents,</div> - <div>And all my lands and tenements:</div> - <div class="i2">Oh, say, my Joan, will not that do?</div> - <div class="i2">I cannot come every day to woo.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I've corn and hay in the barn hard-by,</div> - <div>And three fat hogs pent up in the sty,</div> - <div>I have a mare and she is coal black,</div> - <div>I ride on her tail to save my back.</div> - <div class="i2">Then, say, my Joan, will not that do?</div> - <div class="i2">I cannot come every day to woo.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have a cheese upon the shelf,</div> - <div>And I cannot eat it all myself;</div> - <div>I've three good marks that lie in a rag,</div> - <div>In a nook of the chimney, instead of a bag.</div> - <div class="i2">Then, say, my Joan, will not that do?</div> - <div class="i2">I cannot come every day to woo.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To marry I would have thy consent,</div> - <div>But faith I never could compliment;</div> - <div>I can say nought but "Hoy, gee ho!"</div> - <div>Words that belong to the cart and the plough.</div> - <div class="i2">Oh, say, my Joan, will not that do?</div> - <div class="i2">I cannot come every day to woo.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_358"><a href="#note_358">358</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MY MISTRESS IS AS FAIR AS FINE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My mistress is as fair as fine,</div> - <div class="i1">Milk-white fingers, cherry nose.</div> - <div>Like twinkling day-stars look her eyne,</div> - <div class="i1">Lightening all things where she goes.</div> - <div>Fair as Phoebe, though not so fickle,</div> - <div>Smooth as glass, though not so brickle.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My heart is like a ball of snow</div> - <div class="i1">Melting at her lukewarm sight;</div> - <div>Her fiery lips like night-worms glow,</div> - <div class="i1">Shining clear as candle-light.</div> - <div>Neat she is, no feather lighter;</div> - <div>Bright she is, no daisy whiter.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_359"><a href="#note_359">359</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DIAPHENIA</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Diaphenia, like the daffdowndilly,</div> - <div>White as the sun, fair as the lily,</div> - <div class="i3">Heigh ho, how I do love thee!</div> - <div>I do love thee as my lambs</div> - <div>Are belovèd of their dams—</div> - <div class="i1">How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,</div> - <div>That in thy sweets all sweets encloses,</div> - <div class="i3">Fair sweet, how I do love thee!</div> - <div>I do love thee as each flower</div> - <div>Loves the sun's life-giving power,</div> - <div class="i1">For, dead, thy breath to life might move me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Diaphenia, like to all things blessèd,</div> - <div>When all thy praises are expressèd,</div> - <div class="i3">Dear joy, how I do love thee!</div> - <div>As the birds do love the Spring,</div> - <div>Or the bees their careful king.</div> - <div class="i1">Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Henry Constable</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_360"><a href="#note_360">360</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AEGLAMOUR'S LAMENT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here she was wont to go, and here, and here!</div> - <div>Just where those daisies, pinks, and violets grow:</div> - <div>The world may find the spring by following her;</div> - <div>For other print her airy steps ne'er left:</div> - <div>Her treading would not bend a blade of grass,</div> - <div>Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk;</div> - <div>But like the soft west-wind she shot along;</div> - <div>And where she went, the flowers took thickest root</div> - <div>As she had sowed them with her odourous foot.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Ben Jonson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_361">361</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,</div> - <div class="i1">By just exchange one for the other given;</div> - <div>I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;</div> - <div class="i1">There never was a better bargain driven.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His heart in me keeps me and him in one,</div> - <div class="i1">My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;</div> - <div>He loves my heart, for once it was his own;</div> - <div class="i1">I cherish his because in me it bides.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His heart his wound receivèd from my sight,</div> - <div class="i1">My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;</div> - <div>For as from me on him his heart did light,</div> - <div class="i1">So still methought in me his heart did smart.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,</div> - <div>My true love hath my heart, and I have his.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Sir Philip Sidney</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_362"><a href="#note_362">362</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A BIRTHDAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My heart is like a singing bird</div> - <div class="i1">Whose nest is in a watered shoot;</div> - <div>My heart is like an apple-tree</div> - <div class="i1">Whose boughs are bent with thickest fruit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></div> - <div>My heart is like a rainbow shell</div> - <div class="i1">That paddles in a halcyon sea;</div> - <div>My heart is gladder than all these</div> - <div class="i1">Because my love is come to me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Raise me a dais of silk and down;</div> - <div class="i1">Hang it with vair and purple dyes;</div> - <div>Carve it in doves and pomegranates,</div> - <div class="i1">And peacocks with a hundred eyes;</div> - <div>Work it in gold and silver grapes,</div> - <div class="i1">In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;</div> - <div>Because the birthday of my life</div> - <div class="i1">Is come, my love is come to me.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Christina Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_363"><a href="#note_363">363</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LIFE OF LIFE</h4> -<p class="smcap center p-left">"Voice in the Air, singing"</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Life of Life! thy lips enkindle</div> - <div class="i1">With their love the breath between them;</div> - <div>And thy smiles before they dwindle</div> - <div class="i1">Make the cold air fire; then screen them</div> - <div>In those looks, where whoso gazes</div> - <div>Faints, entangled in their mazes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Child of Light! thy limbs are burning</div> - <div class="i1">Through the vest which seeks to hide them;</div> - <div>As the radiant lines of morning</div> - <div class="i1">Through the clouds ere they divide them;</div> - <div>And this atmosphere divinest</div> - <div>Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fair are others; none beholds thee,</div> - <div class="i1">But thy voice sounds low and tender</div> - <div>Like the fairest, for it folds thee</div> - <div class="i1">From the sight, that liquid splendour,</div> - <div>And all feel, yet see thee never,</div> - <div>As I feel now, lost for ever!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movest</div> - <div class="i1">Its dim shapes are clad with brightness,</div> - <div>And the souls of whom thou lovest</div> - <div class="i1">Walk upon the winds with lightness,</div> - <div>Till they fail, as I am failing,</div> - <div>Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_364"><a href="#note_364">364</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A SONNET OF THE MOON</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Look how the pale Queen of the silent night</div> - <div>Doth cause the ocean to attend upon her,</div> - <div>And he, as long as she is in his sight,</div> - <div>With his full tide is ready her to honour:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But when the silver waggon of the Moon</div> - <div>Is mounted up so high he cannot follow,</div> - <div>The sea calls home his crystal waves to moan,</div> - <div>And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So you that are the sovereign of my heart,</div> - <div>Have all my joys attending on your will,</div> - <div>My joys low-ebbing when you do depart,</div> - <div>When you return, their tide my heart doth fill.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So as you come, and as you do depart,</div> - <div>Joys ebb and flow within my tender heart.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Charles Best</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_365">365</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE OUTLAW OF LOCH LENE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">O many a day have I made good ale in the glen,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That came not of stream or malt, like the brewing of men:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">My bed was the ground; my roof, the green-wood above;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the wealth that I sought, one far kind glance from my Love.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Alas, on that night when the horses I drove from the field</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That I was not near from terror my angel to shield!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span></div> - <div class="hangingindent">She stretched forth her arms; her mantle she flung to the wind,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And swam o'er Loch Lene, her outlawed lover to find.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">O would that a freezing sleet-winged tempest did sweep,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And I and my love were alone, far off on the deep;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I'd ask not a ship, or a bark, or a pinnace, to save—</div> - <div class="hangingindent">With her hand round my waist, I'd fear not the wind or the wave.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">'Tis down by the lake where the wild tree fringes its sides,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The maid of my heart, my fair one of Heaven resides:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I think, as at eve she wanders its mazes among,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The birds go to sleep by the sweet wild twist of her song.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Jeremiah John Callanan</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_366">366</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>O WHAT IF THE FOWLER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken?</div> - <div class="i1">The roses of dawn blossom over the sea;</div> - <div>Awaken, my blackbird, awaken, awaken,</div> - <div class="i1">And sing to me out of my red fuchsia tree!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken?</div> - <div class="i1">The sun lifts his head from the lip of the sea—</div> - <div>Awaken, my blackbird, awaken, awaken,</div> - <div class="i1">And sing to me out of my red fuchsia tree!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken?</div> - <div class="i1">The mountain grows white with the birds of the sea;</div> - <div>But down in my garden forsaken, forsaken,</div> - <div class="i1">I'll weep all the day by my red fuchsia tree!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Charles Dalmon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_367">367</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WHITHER AWAY?</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Where are you going, Master mine?"</div> - <div class="i1">"Mistress of mine, farewell!</div> - <div>Pledge me a cup of golden wine!</div> - <div>Light shall be dark and darkness shine</div> - <div class="i4">Before I tell!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O go you by the firwoods blue?</div> - <div class="i1">And by the Fairies' Trysting Tree?"</div> - <div>"No, for the path is grown with rue</div> - <div>And nightshade's purple fruit, since you</div> - <div class="i4">Walked there with me!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O go you by the pastures high—</div> - <div class="i1">A grassy road and daisies fair?"</div> - <div>"No, for I saw them fade and die</div> - <div>On the bright evening, love, that I</div> - <div class="i4">Sat with you there."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Mary Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_368"><a href="#note_368">368</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BONNY BARBARA ALLAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It was in and about the Martinmas time,</div> - <div class="i1">When the green leaves were a falling,</div> - <div>That Sir John Graeme, in the West Country,</div> - <div class="i1">Fell in love with Barbara Allan.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He sent his man down through the town,</div> - <div class="i1">To the place where she was dwelling:</div> - <div>"O haste and come to my master dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Gin ye be Barbara Allan."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O hooly, hooly<a name="FNanchor_154_154" id="FNanchor_154_154"></a><a href="#Footnote_154_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a> rose she up,</div> - <div class="i1">To the place where he was lying,</div> - <div>And when she drew the curtain by;—</div> - <div class="i1">"Young man, I think you're dying."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,</div> - <div class="i1">And 't is a' for Barbara Allan."—</div> - <div>"O the better for me ye's never be,</div> - <div class="i1">Tho your heart's blood were a spilling.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O dinna ye mind, young man," said she,</div> - <div class="i1">"When ye was in the tavern a-drinking,</div> - <div>That ye made the healths gae round and round,</div> - <div class="i1">And slighted Barbara Allan?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He turned his face unto the wall,</div> - <div class="i1">And death was with him dealing:</div> - <div>"Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,</div> - <div class="i1">And be kind to Barbara Allan."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She had not gane a mile but twa,</div> - <div class="i1">When she heard the dead-bell ringing,</div> - <div>And every jow that the dead-bell gied,</div> - <div class="i1">It cryed, <i>Woe to Barbara Allan</i>!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O mother, mother, make my bed!</div> - <div class="i1">O make it saft and narrow!</div> - <div>Since my love died for me to-day,</div> - <div class="i1">I'll die for him to-morrow."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_369">369</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>PROUD MAISIE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Proud Maisie is in the wood,</div> - <div class="i1">Walking so early;</div> - <div>Sweet Robin sits on the bush,</div> - <div class="i1">Singing so rarely.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Tell me, thou bonny bird,</div> - <div class="i1">When shall I marry me?"</div> - <div>"When six braw gentlemen</div> - <div class="i1">Kirkward shall carry ye."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Who makes the bridal bed,</div> - <div class="i1">Birdie, say truly?"</div> - <div>"The grey-headed sexton</div> - <div class="i1">That delves the grave duly."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The glowworm o'er grave and stone</div> - <div class="i1">Shall light thee steady;</div> - <div>The owl from the steeple sing</div> - <div class="i1">Welcome, proud lady."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Sir Walter Scott</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_370">370</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A LEAVE TAKING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear.</div> - <div>Let us go hence together without fear;</div> - <div>Keep silence now, for singing-time is over,</div> - <div>And over all old things and all things dear.</div> - <div>She loves not you nor me as all we love her.</div> - <div>Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear,</div> - <div class="i5">She would not hear.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let us rise up and part; she will not know.</div> - <div>Let us go seaward as the great winds go,</div> - <div>Full of blown sand and foam; what help is here?</div> - <div>There is no help, for all these things are so,</div> - <div>And all the world is bitter as a tear.</div> - <div>And how these things are, though ye strove to show,</div> - <div class="i5">She would not know.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let us go home and hence; she will not weep.</div> - <div>We gave love many dreams and days to keep,</div> - <div>Flowers without scent, and fruits that would not grow,</div> - <div>Saying, "If thou wilt, thrust in thy sickle and reap."</div> - <div>All is reaped now; no grass is left to mow;</div> - <div>And we that sowed, though all we fell on sleep,</div> - <div class="i5">She would not weep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let us go hence and rest; she will not love.</div> - <div>She shall not hear us if we sing hereof,</div> - <div>Nor see love's ways, how sore they are and steep.</div> - <div>Come hence, let be, lie still; it is enough.</div> - <div>Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep;</div> - <div>And though she saw all heaven in flower above,</div> - <div class="i5">She would not love.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let us give up, go down; she will not care.</div> - <div>Though all the stars made gold of all the air,</div> - <div>And the sea moving saw before it move</div> - <div>One moon-flower making all the foam-flowers fair;</div> - <div>Though all those waves went over us, and drove</div> - <div>Deep down the stifling lips and drowning hair,</div> - <div class="i5">She would not care.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let us go hence, go hence; she will not see.</div> - <div>Sing all once more together; surely she,</div> - <div>She, too, remembering days and words that were,</div> - <div>Will turn a little toward us, sighing; but we,</div> - <div>We are hence, we are gone, as though we had not been there.</div> - <div>Nay, and though all men seeing had pity on me,</div> - <div class="i5">She would not see.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_371"><a href="#note_371">371</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE UNQUIET GRAVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The wind doth blow to-day, my love,</div> - <div class="i1">And a few small drops of rain;</div> - <div>I never had but one true love,</div> - <div class="i1">In cold grave she was lain.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I'll do as much for my true love</div> - <div class="i1">As any young man may;</div> - <div>I'll sit and mourn all at her grave</div> - <div class="i1">For a twelvemonth and a day."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The twelvemonth and a day being up,</div> - <div class="i1">The dead began to speak:</div> - <div>"Oh who sits weeping on my grave,</div> - <div class="i1">And will not let me sleep?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"'Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,</div> - <div class="i1">And will not let you sleep;</div> - <div>For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,</div> - <div class="i1">And that is all I seek."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;</div> - <div class="i1">But my breath smells earthy strong;</div> - <div>If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,</div> - <div class="i1">Your time will not be long.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"'Tis down in yonder garden green,</div> - <div class="i1">Love, where we used to walk,</div> - <div>The finest flower that ere was seen</div> - <div class="i1">Is withered to a stalk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The stalk is withered dry, my love,</div> - <div class="i1">So will our hearts decay;</div> - <div>So make yourself content, my love,</div> - <div class="i1">Till God calls you away."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_372"><a href="#note_372">372</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A LAMENT: 1547</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Departe, departe, departe—</div> - <div>Allace! I most departe</div> - <div>From hir that hes my hart,</div> - <div class="i1">With hairt full soir;</div> - <div>Aganis my will in deid,</div> - <div>And can find no remeid:</div> - <div>I wait the pains of deid—</div> - <div class="i1">Can do no moir....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Adew, my ain sueit thing,</div> - <div>My joy and comforting,</div> - <div>My mirth and sollesing</div> - <div class="i1">Of erdly gloir:</div> - <div>Fair weill, my lady bricht,</div> - <div>And my remembrance rycht;</div> - <div>Fair weill and haif gud nycht:</div> - <div class="i1">I say no moir."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Alexander Scott</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_373">373</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>I DIED TRUE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lay a garland on my hearse</div> - <div class="i1">Of the dismal yew;</div> - <div>Maidens, willow branches bear;</div> - <div class="i1">Say I died true.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My love was false, but I was firm</div> - <div class="i1">From my hour of birth.</div> - <div>Upon my buried body lie</div> - <div class="i1">Lightly, gentle earth!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">John Fletcher</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_374">374</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How should I your true love know</div> - <div class="i1">From another one?</div> - <div>By his Cockle hat and staffe,</div> - <div class="i1">And his Sandal shoone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He is dead and gone Lady,</div> - <div class="i1">He is dead and done,—</div> - <div>At his head a grasse-greene Turfe,</div> - <div class="i1">At his heeles a stone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>White his Shrowd as the Mountain Snow,</div> - <div class="i1">Larded with sweet flowers:</div> - <div>Which bewept to the grave did not go,</div> - <div class="i1">With true-love showres.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_375">375</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IT WAS THE TIME OF ROSES</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It was not in the winter</div> - <div>Our loving lot was cast:</div> - <div>It was the time of roses—</div> - <div>We plucked them as we passed!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>That churlish season never frowned</div> - <div>On early lovers yet!</div> - <div>O, no—the world was newly crowned</div> - <div>With flowers, when first we met.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Twas twilight, and I bade you go,</div> - <div>But still you held me fast:</div> - <div>It was the time of roses—</div> - <div>We plucked them as we passed."...</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Hood</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_376">376</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AULD ROBIN GRAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye<a name="FNanchor_155_155" id="FNanchor_155_155"></a><a href="#Footnote_155_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a> at hame,</div> - <div>And a' the warld to rest are gane,</div> - <div>The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e,</div> - <div>While my gudeman<a name="FNanchor_156_156" id="FNanchor_156_156"></a><a href="#Footnote_156_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a> lies sound by me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride,</div> - <div>But saving a croun he had naething else beside:</div> - <div>To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea,</div> - <div>And the croun and the pund were baith for me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He hadna been awa a week but only twa,</div> - <div>When my father brak his arm, and the cow was stown awa;</div> - <div>My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea—</div> - <div>And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin;</div> - <div>I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win;</div> - <div>Auld Rob maintained them baith, and wi' tears in his e'e</div> - <div>Said:—"Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My heart it said nay; I look'd for Jamie back;</div> - <div>But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack;</div> - <div>His ship it was a wrack.... Why didna Jamie dee?</div> - <div>Or why do I live to cry, Wae's me?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My father urgit sair: my mother didna speak,</div> - <div>But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break:</div> - <div>They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea,</div> - <div>Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I hadna been a wife a week but only four,</div> - <div>When, mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door,</div> - <div>I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he—</div> - <div>Till he said:—"I'm come hame to marry thee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, sair, sair did we greet,<a name="FNanchor_157_157" id="FNanchor_157_157"></a><a href="#Footnote_157_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a> and muckle<a name="FNanchor_158_158" id="FNanchor_158_158"></a><a href="#Footnote_158_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a> did we say;</div> - <div>We took but ae kiss, and I bad him gang away;</div> - <div>I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee,</div> - <div>And why was I born to say, Wae's me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;</div> - <div>I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin;</div> - <div>But I'll do my best a gude wife ay to be,</div> - <div>For auld Robin Gray, he is kind unto me.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Lady Anne Lindsay</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_377">377</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LAWLANDS O' HOLLAND</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The love that I hae chosen,</div> - <div class="i1">I'll therewith be content;</div> - <div>The saut sea sall be frozen</div> - <div class="i1">Before that I repent.</div> - <div>Repent it sall I never</div> - <div class="i1">Until the day I dee;</div> - <div>But the Lawlands o' Holland</div> - <div class="i1">Hae twinned my love and me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My love he built a bonny ship,</div> - <div class="i1">And set her to the main,</div> - <div>Wi' twenty-four brave mariners</div> - <div class="i1">To sail her out and hame.</div> - <div>But the weary wind began to rise,</div> - <div class="i1">The sea began to rout,</div> - <div>And my love and his bonny ship</div> - <div class="i1">Turned withershins about.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"There sall nae mantle cross my back,</div> - <div class="i1">No kaim gae in my hair,</div> - <div>Neither sall coal nor candle-light</div> - <div class="i1">Shine in my bower mair;</div> - <div>Nor sall I choose anither love,</div> - <div class="i1">Until the day I dee,</div> - <div>Sin' the Lawlands o' Holland,</div> - <div class="i1">Hae twinned my love and me."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Noo haud your tongue, my daughter dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Be still, and bide content;</div> - <div>There's ither lads in Galloway;</div> - <div class="i1">Ye needna sair lament."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span></div> - <div>"O there is nane in Galloway,</div> - <div class="i1">There's nane at a' for me.</div> - <div>I never lo'ed a lad but ane,</div> - <div class="i1">And he's drowned in the sea."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_378">378</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CHURCHYARD ON THE SANDS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My love lies in the gates of foam,</div> - <div class="i1">The last dear wreck of shore;</div> - <div>The naked sea-marsh binds her home,</div> - <div class="i1">The sand her chamber door.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The gray gull flaps the written stones,</div> - <div class="i1">The ox-birds chase the tide;</div> - <div>And near that narrow field of bones</div> - <div class="i1">Great ships at anchor ride.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Black piers with crust of dripping green,</div> - <div class="i1">One foreland, like a hand,</div> - <div>O'er intervals of grass between</div> - <div class="i1">Dim lonely dunes of sand.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A church of silent weathered looks,</div> - <div class="i1">A breezy reddish tower,</div> - <div>A yard whose wounded resting-nooks</div> - <div class="i1">Are tinged with sorrel flower.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In peace the swallow's eggs are laid</div> - <div class="i1">Along the belfry walls;</div> - <div>The tempest does not reach her shade,</div> - <div class="i1">The rain her silent halls.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But sails are sweet in summer sky,</div> - <div class="i1">The lark throws down a lay;</div> - <div>The long salt levels steam and dry,</div> - <div class="i1">The cloud-heart melts away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And patches of the sea-pink shine,</div> - <div class="i1">The pied crows poise and come;</div> - <div>The mallow hangs, the bind-weeds twine,</div> - <div class="i1">Where her sweet lips are dumb.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The passion of the wave is mute;</div> - <div class="i1">No sound or ocean shock;</div> - <div>No music save the thrilling flute</div> - <div class="i1">That marks the curlew flock....</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Lord de Tabley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_379">379</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ROSE AYLMER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ah, what avails the sceptred race,</div> - <div class="i1">Ah, what the form divine!</div> - <div>What every virtue, every grace!</div> - <div class="i1">Rose Aylmer, all were thine.</div> - <div>Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes</div> - <div class="i1">May weep, but never see,</div> - <div>A night of memories and sighs</div> - <div class="i1">I consecrate to thee.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Walter Savage Landor</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_380"><a href="#note_380">380</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TO HELEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Helen, thy beauty is to me</div> - <div class="i1">Like those Nicæan barks of yore,</div> - <div>That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,</div> - <div class="i1">The weary, wayworn wanderer bore</div> - <div class="i1">To his own native shore.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On desperate seas long wont to roam,</div> - <div class="i1">Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,</div> - <div>Thy Naiad air, have brought me home</div> - <div class="i1">To the glory that was Greece</div> - <div class="i1">And the grandeur that was Rome.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche</div> - <div class="i1">How statue-like I see thee stand,</div> - <div>The agate lamp within thy hand!</div> - <div class="i1">Ah, Psyche, from the regions which</div> - <div class="i1">Are Holy Land!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Edgar Allan Poe</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_381"><a href="#note_381">381</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"THERE IS A LADY SWEET AND KIND"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There is a Lady sweet and kind,</div> - <div>Was never face so pleased my mind;</div> - <div>I did but see her passing by,</div> - <div>And yet I love her till I die.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,</div> - <div>Her wit, her voice, my heart beguiles,</div> - <div>Beguiles my heart, I know not why,</div> - <div>And yet I love her till I die....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cupid is wingèd and doth range,</div> - <div>Her country so my love doth change:</div> - <div>But change she earth, or change she sky,</div> - <div>Yet will I love her till I die.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Thomas Ford</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_382">382</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"LOVE NOT ME FOR COMELY GRACE"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Love not me for comely grace,</div> - <div>For my pleasing eye or face,</div> - <div>Nor for any outward part:</div> - <div>No, nor for my constant heart!</div> - <div class="i1">For these may fail or turn to ill:</div> - <div class="i2">So thou and I shall sever:</div> - <div>Keep therefore a true woman's eye,</div> - <div>And love me still, but know not why!</div> - <div class="i1">So hast thou the same reason still</div> - <div class="i2">To doat upon me ever.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_383"><a href="#note_383">383</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>NOW WOLDE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now wolde I faine some merthės<a name="FNanchor_159_159" id="FNanchor_159_159"></a><a href="#Footnote_159_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a> make,</div> - <div>All only for my lady sake,</div> - <div class="i1">When her I see;</div> - <div>But now I am so far fro her</div> - <div class="i1">It will not be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though I be far out of her sight</div> - <div>I am her man both day and night</div> - <div class="i1">And so will be.</div> - <div>Therefore wolde; as I love her,</div> - <div class="i1">She lovèd me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When she is mery, then I am glad;</div> - <div>When she is sory, then I am sad;</div> - <div class="i1">And causė why,<a name="FNanchor_160_160" id="FNanchor_160_160"></a><a href="#Footnote_160_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a></div> - <div>For he liveth not that loveth her</div> - <div class="i1">As well as I.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She saith that she hath seen it written</div> - <div>That "seldom seen is soon forgotten";</div> - <div class="i1">It is not so.</div> - <div>For in good feith, save only her,</div> - <div class="i1">I love no mo.<a name="FNanchor_161_161" id="FNanchor_161_161"></a><a href="#Footnote_161_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_384">384</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>EGYPT'S MIGHT IS TUMBLED DOWN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Egypt's might is tumbled down</div> - <div class="i1">Down a-down the deeps of thought;</div> - <div>Greece is fallen and Troy town,</div> - <div>Glorious Rome hath lost her crown,</div> - <div class="i2">Venice' pride is nought.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But the dreams their children dreamed</div> - <div class="i1">Fleeting, unsubstantial, vain,</div> - <div>Shadowy as the shadows seemed,</div> - <div>Airy nothing, as they deemed,</div> - <div class="i2">These remain.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Mary Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_385"><a href="#note_385">385</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DREAM LOVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Young Love lies sleeping</div> - <div class="i1">In May-time of the year.</div> - <div>Among the lilies,</div> - <div class="i1">Lapped in the tender light:</div> - <div>White lambs come grazing,</div> - <div class="i1">White doves come building there;</div> - <div>And round about him</div> - <div class="i1">The May-bushes are white.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Soft moss the pillow</div> - <div class="i1">For oh, a softer cheek;</div> - <div>Broad leaves cast shadow</div> - <div class="i1">Upon the heavy eyes:</div> - <div>There winds and waters</div> - <div class="i1">Grow lulled and scarcely speak;</div> - <div>There twilight lingers</div> - <div class="i1">The longest in the skies.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Young Love lies dreaming;</div> - <div class="i1">But who shall tell the dream?</div> - <div>A perfect sunlight</div> - <div class="i1">On rustling forest tips;</div> - <div>Or perfect moonlight</div> - <div class="i1">Upon a rippling stream;</div> - <div>Or perfect silence,</div> - <div class="i1">Or song of cherished lips.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Burn odours round him</div> - <div class="i1">To fill the drowsy air;</div> - <div>Weave silent dances</div> - <div class="i1">Around him to and fro;</div> - <div>For oh, in waking</div> - <div class="i1">The sights are not so fair,</div> - <div>And song and silence</div> - <div class="i1">Are not like these below.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Young Love lies dreaming</div> - <div class="i1">Till summer days are gone,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span></div> - <div>Dreaming and drowsing</div> - <div class="i1">Away to perfect sleep:</div> - <div>He sees the beauty</div> - <div class="i1">Sun hath not looked upon,</div> - <div>And tastes the fountain</div> - <div class="i1">Unutterably deep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Him perfect music</div> - <div class="i1">Doth hush unto his rest,</div> - <div>And through the pauses</div> - <div class="i1">The perfect silence calms.</div> - <div>Oh, poor the voices</div> - <div class="i1">Of earth from east to west,</div> - <div>And poor earth's stillness</div> - <div class="i1">Between her stately palms.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Young Love lies drowsing</div> - <div class="i1">Away to poppied death;</div> - <div>Cool shadows deepen</div> - <div class="i1">Across the sleeping face:</div> - <div>So fails the summer</div> - <div class="i1">With warm, delicious breath;</div> - <div>And what hath autumn</div> - <div class="i1">To give us in its place?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Draw close the curtains</div> - <div class="i1">Of branched evergreen;</div> - <div>Change cannot touch them</div> - <div class="i1">With fading fingers sere:</div> - <div>Here the first violets</div> - <div class="i1">Perhaps will bud unseen,</div> - <div>And a dove, may be,</div> - <div class="i1">Return to nestle here.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Christina Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_386">386</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AT COMMON DAWN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At common dawn there is a voice of bird</div> - <div>So sweet, 'tis kin to pain;</div> - <div>For love of earthly life it needs be heard,</div> - <div>And lets not sleep again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This bird I did one time at midnight hear</div> - <div>In wet November wood</div> - <div>Say to himself his lyric faint and clear</div> - <div>As one at daybreak should.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He ceased; the covert breathed no other sound,</div> - <div>Nor moody answer made;</div> - <div>But all the world at beauty's worship found,</div> - <div>Was waking in the glade.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Vivian Locke Ellis</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_371" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_371.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>"ECHO THEN SHALL AGAIN TELL HER I FOLLOW."</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_387"><a href="#note_387">387</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>GLYCINE'S SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A sunny shaft did I behold,</div> - <div class="i1">From sky to earth it slanted:</div> - <div>And poised therein a bird so bold—</div> - <div class="i1">Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled</div> - <div class="i1">Within that shaft of sunny mist;</div> - <div>His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,</div> - <div class="i1">All else of amethyst!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And thus he sang: "Adieu! adieu!</div> - <div>Love's dreams prove seldom true.</div> - <div>The blossoms, they make no delay:</div> - <div>The sparkling dew-drops will not stay.</div> - <div class="i2">Sweet month of May,</div> - <div class="i3">We must away;</div> - <div class="i3">Far, far away!</div> - <div class="i5">To-day! to-day!"</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_388">388</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CRYSTAL CABINET</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Maiden caught me in the wild,</div> - <div>Where I was dancing merrily;</div> - <div>She put me into her Cabinet,</div> - <div>And locked me up with a golden key.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This Cabinet is formed of Gold</div> - <div>And Pearl and Crystal shining bright,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span></div> - <div>And within it opens into a World</div> - <div>And a little lovely Moony Night.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Another England there I saw</div> - <div>Another London with its Tower,</div> - <div>Another Thames and other Hills,</div> - <div>And another pleasant Surrey Bower.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Another Maiden like herself,</div> - <div>Translucent, lovely, shining clear,</div> - <div>Threefold each in the other closed—</div> - <div>O, what a pleasant trembling fear!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, what a smile! a Threefold Smile</div> - <div>Filled me, that like a flame I burned;</div> - <div>I bent to kiss the lovely Maid,</div> - <div>And found a Threefold Kiss returned.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I strove to seize the inmost form</div> - <div>With ardour fierce and hands of flame,</div> - <div>But burst the Crystal Cabinet,</div> - <div>And like a Weeping Babe became—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A Weeping Babe upon the wild,</div> - <div>And Weeping Woman pale reclined,</div> - <div>And in the outward air again</div> - <div>I filled with woes the passing wind.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_389"><a href="#note_389">389</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CHASE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Art thou gone in haste?</div> - <div class="i2">I'll not forsake thee;</div> - <div class="i1">Runn'st thou ne'er so fast?</div> - <div class="i2">I'll overtake thee:</div> - <div>O'er the dales, o'er the downs,</div> - <div class="i2">Through the green meadows,</div> - <div>From the fields through the towns,</div> - <div class="i2">To the dim shadows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">All along the plain,</div> - <div class="i2">To the low fountains,</div> - <div class="i1">Up and down again</div> - <div class="i2">From the high mountains;</div> - <div>Echo then shall again</div> - <div class="i2">Tell her I follow,</div> - <div>And the floods to the woods</div> - <div class="i3">Carry my holla!</div> - <div class="i6"><i>Holla!</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Ce! la! ho! ho! hu!</i></div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Rowley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_390">390</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TONY O!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Over the bleak and barren snow</div> - <div>A voice there came a-calling;</div> - <div>"Where are you going to, Tony O!</div> - <div>Where are you going this morning?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I am going where there are rivers of wine,</div> - <div>The mountains bread and honey;</div> - <div>There Kings and Queens do mind the swine,</div> - <div>And the poor have all the money."</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Colin Francis</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_391"><a href="#note_391">391</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ROMANCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I was but thirteen or so</div> - <div class="i1">I went into a golden land,</div> - <div>Chimborazo, Cotopaxi</div> - <div class="i1">Took me by the hand.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My father died, my brother too,</div> - <div class="i1">They passed like fleeting dreams.</div> - <div>I stood where Popocatapetl</div> - <div class="i1">In the sunlight gleams.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I dimly heard the master's voice</div> - <div class="i1">And boys far-off at play,</div> - <div>Chimborazo, Cotopaxi</div> - <div class="i1">Had stolen me away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I walked in a great golden dream</div> - <div class="i1">To and fro from school—</div> - <div>Shining Popocatapetl</div> - <div class="i1">The dusty streets did rule.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I walked home with a gold dark boy,</div> - <div class="i1">And never a word I'd say,</div> - <div>Chimborazo, Cotopaxi</div> - <div class="i1">Had taken my speech away:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I gazed entranced upon his face</div> - <div class="i1">Fairer than any flower—</div> - <div>O shining Popocatapetl</div> - <div class="i1">It was thy magic hour:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The houses, people, traffic seemed</div> - <div class="i1">Thin fading dreams by day,</div> - <div>Chimborazo, Cotopaxi</div> - <div class="i1">They had stolen my soul away!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Walter J. Turner</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_392"><a href="#note_392">392</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HALLO MY FANCY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">In melancholic fancy,</div> - <div class="i6">Out of myself,</div> - <div class="i6">In the vulcan dancy,</div> - <div class="i6">All the world surveying,</div> - <div class="i6">Nowhere staying,</div> - <div class="i3">Just like a fairy elf;</div> - <div>Out o'er the tops of highest mountains skipping,</div> - <div>Out o'er the hill, the trees and valleys tripping,</div> - <div>Out o'er the ocean seas, without an oar or shipping,—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Amidst the misty vapours</div> - <div class="i6">Fain would I know</div> - <div class="i6">What doth cause the tapers;</div> - <div class="i6">Why the clouds benight us</div> - <div class="i6">And affright us.</div> - <div class="i3">While we travel here below;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span></div> - <div>Fain would I know what makes the roaring thunder,</div> - <div>And what these lightnings be that rend the clouds asunder,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And what these comets are on which we gaze and wonder—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Fain would I know the reason,</div> - <div class="i6">Why the little ant,</div> - <div class="i6">All the summer season,</div> - <div class="i6">Layeth up provision</div> - <div class="i6">On condition</div> - <div class="i3">To know no winter's want.</div> - <div>And how housewives, that are so good and painful,</div> - <div>Do unto their husbands prove so good and gainful;</div> - <div>And why the lazy drones to them do prove disdainful—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i>...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Amidst the foamy ocean,</div> - <div class="i6">Fain would I know</div> - <div class="i6">What doth cause the motion,</div> - <div class="i6">And returning</div> - <div class="i6">In its journeying,</div> - <div class="i3">And doth so seldom swerve?</div> - <div>And how the little fishes that swim beneath salt waters,</div> - <div>Do never blind their eye; methinks it is a matter</div> - <div>An inch above the reach of old Erra Pater!—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Fain would I be resolvèd</div> - <div class="i6">How things are done;</div> - <div class="i6">And where the bull was calvèd</div> - <div class="i6">Of bloody Phalaris,</div> - <div class="i6">And where the tailor is</div> - <div class="i3">That works to the man i' the moon!</div> - <div>Fain would I know how Cupid aims so rightly;</div> - <div>And how the little fairies do dance and leap so lightly,</div> - <div>And where fair Cynthia makes her ambles nightly—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">In conceit like Phaeton</div> - <div class="i6">I'll mount Phoebus' chair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span></div> - <div class="i6">Having ne'er a hat on,</div> - <div class="i6">All my hair a-burning</div> - <div class="i6">In my journeying;</div> - <div class="i3">Hurrying through the air.</div> - <div>Fain would I hear his fiery horses neighing</div> - <div>And see how they on foamy bits are playing,</div> - <div>All the stars and planets I will be surveying!—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">O from what ground of nature</div> - <div class="i6">Doth the pelican,</div> - <div class="i6">That self devouring creature</div> - <div class="i6">Prove so forward</div> - <div class="i6">And untoward,</div> - <div class="i3">Her vitals for to strain!</div> - <div>And why the subtle fox, while in death's wounds a-lying,</div> - <div>Do not lament his pangs by howling and by crying,</div> - <div>And why the milk-swan doth sing when she's a-dying—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Fain would I conclude this,</div> - <div class="i6">At least make essay;</div> - <div class="i6">What similitude is:</div> - <div class="i6">Why fowls of a feather</div> - <div class="i6">Flock and fly together,</div> - <div class="i3">And lambs know beasts of prey;</div> - <div>How Nature's alchemists, these small laborious creatures,</div> - <div>Acknowledge still a prince in ordering their matters,</div> - <div>And suffer none to live who slothing lose their features—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i>...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">To know this world's centre</div> - <div class="i6">Height, depth, breadth and length,</div> - <div class="i6">Fain would I adventure</div> - <div class="i6">To search the hid attractions</div> - <div class="i6">Of magnetic actions</div> - <div class="i3">And adamantine strength.</div> - <div>Fain would I know, if in some lofty mountain,</div> - <div>Where the moon sojourns, if there be tree or fountain;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span></div> - <div>If there be beasts of prey, or yet be fields to hunt in—</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Hallo my fancy, whither wilt thou go?</i>...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i6">Hallo my fancy, hallo,</div> - <div class="i6">Stay, stay at home with me,</div> - <div class="i6">I can no longer follow,</div> - <div class="i6">For thou hast betrayed me,</div> - <div class="i6">And bewrayed me;</div> - <div class="i3">It is too much for thee.</div> - <div>Stay, stay at home with me, leave off thy lofty soaring;</div> - <div>Stay then at home with me, and on thy books be poring;</div> - <div>For he that goes abroad, lays little up in storing—</div> - <div class="i1">Thou'rt welcome my fancy, welcome home to me.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William Cleland</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_393"><a href="#note_393">393</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONNET</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was an Indian, who had known no change,</div> - <div class="i1">Who strayed content along a sunlit beach</div> - <div>Gathering shells. He heard a sudden strange</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">Commingled noise: looked up; and gasped for speech.</div> - <div>For in the bay, where nothing was before,</div> - <div class="i1">Moved on the sea, by magic, huge canoes,</div> - <div>With bellying clothes on poles, and not one oar,</div> - <div class="i1">And fluttering coloured signs and clambering crews.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And he, in fear, this naked man alone,</div> - <div class="i1">His fallen hands forgetting all their shells,</div> - <div>His lips gone pale, knelt low behind a stone,</div> - <div class="i1">And stared, and saw, and did not understand,</div> - <div class="i1">Columbus's doom-burdened caravels</div> - <div class="i2">Slant to the shore, and all their seamen land.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">J. C. Squire</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_394">394</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Much have I travelled in the realms of gold,</div> - <div class="i1">And many goodly states and kingdoms seen:</div> - <div class="i1">Round many western islands have I been</div> - <div>Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oft of one wide expanse had I been told</div> - <div class="i1">That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;</div> - <div class="i1">Yet did I never breathe its pure serene</div> - <div>Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then felt I like some watcher of the skies</div> - <div class="i1">When a new planet swims into his ken;</div> - <div>Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He stared at the Pacific—and all his men</div> - <div class="i1">Looked at each other with a wild surmise—</div> - <div>Silent, upon a peak in Darien.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_395"><a href="#note_395">395</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"TO SEA"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To sea, to sea! The calm is o'er;</div> - <div>The wanton water leaps in sport,</div> - <div>And rattles down the pebbly shore;</div> - <div>The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort,</div> - <div>And unseen Mermaids' pearly song</div> - <div>Comes bubbling up, the weeds among.</div> - <div class="i1">Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar:</div> - <div>To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To sea, to sea! our wide-winged bark</div> - <div>Shall billowy cleave its sunny way,</div> - <div>And with its shadow, fleet and dark,</div> - <div>Break the caved Tritons' azure day,</div> - <div>Like mighty eagle soaring light</div> - <div>O'er antelopes on Alpine height.</div> - <div class="i1">The anchor heaves, the ship swings free,</div> - <div>The sails swell full: To sea, to sea!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Lovell Beddoes</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_396"><a href="#note_396">396</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BERMUDAS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where the remote Bermudas ride,</div> - <div>In the Ocean's bosom unespied,</div> - <div>From a small boat, that rowed along,</div> - <div>The listening winds received this song:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"What should we do but sing His praise,</div> - <div>That led us through the watery maze,</div> - <div>Unto an isle so long unknown,</div> - <div>And yet far kinder than our own?</div> - <div>Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks</div> - <div>That lift the deep upon their backs,</div> - <div>He lands us on a grassy stage,</div> - <div>Safe from the storms' and prelates' rage:</div> - <div>He gave us this eternal Spring</div> - <div>Which here enamels everything,</div> - <div>And sends the fowls to us in care</div> - <div>On daily visits through the air:</div> - <div>He hangs in shades the orange bright,</div> - <div>Like golden lamps in a green night,</div> - <div>And does in the pomegranates close</div> - <div>Jewels more rich than Ormus shows;</div> - <div>He makes the figs our mouths to meet,</div> - <div>And throws the melons at our feet;</div> - <div>But apples plants of such a price</div> - <div>No tree could ever bear them twice.</div> - <div>With cedars, chosen by His hand</div> - <div>From Lebanon, He stores the land,</div> - <div>And makes the hollow seas, that roar,</div> - <div>Proclaim the ambergris on shore.</div> - <div>He cast (of which we rather boast)</div> - <div>The Gospel's pearl upon our coast;</div> - <div>And in these rocks for us did frame</div> - <div>A temple where to sound His name.</div> - <div>Oh! let our voice His praise exalt,</div> - <div>Till it arrive at Heaven's vault,</div> - <div>Which, thence (perhaps) rebounding, may</div> - <div>Echo beyond the Mexique bay."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span></div> - </div> - - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thus sung they, in the English boat,</div> - <div>A holy and a cheerful note;</div> - <div>And all the way, to guide their chime,</div> - <div>With falling oars they kept the time.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Andrew Marvell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_397"><a href="#note_397">397</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE OLD SHIPS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have seen old ships sail like swans asleep</div> - <div>Beyond the village which men still call Tyre,</div> - <div>With leaden age o'ercargoed, dipping deep</div> - <div>For Famagusta and the hidden sun</div> - <div>That rings black Cyprus with a lake of fire;</div> - <div>And all those ships were certainly so old—</div> - <div>Who knows how oft with squat and noisy gun</div> - <div>Questing brown slaves or Syrian oranges,</div> - <div>The pirate Genoese</div> - <div>Hell-raked them till they rolled</div> - <div>Blood, water, fruit and corpses up the hold.</div> - <div>But now through friendly seas they softly run,</div> - <div>Painted the mid-sea blue or shore-sea green,</div> - <div>Still patterned with the vine and grapes in gold.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But I have seen</div> - <div>Pointing her shapely shadows from the dawn</div> - <div>And image tumbled on a rose-swept bay</div> - <div>A drowsy ship of some yet older day;</div> - <div>And, wonder's breath indrawn,</div> - <div>Thought I—who knows—who knows—but in that same</div> - <div>(Fished up beyond Aeaea, patched up new</div> - <div>—Stern painted brighter blue—)</div> - <div>That talkative, bald-headed seaman came</div> - <div>(Twelve patient comrades sweating at the oar)</div> - <div>From Troy's doom-crimson shore,</div> - <div>And with great lies about his wooden horse</div> - <div>Set the crew laughing, and forgot his course.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span></div> - <div>It was so old a ship—who knows, who knows?</div> - <div>—And yet so beautiful, I watched in vain</div> - <div>To see the mast burst open with a rose,</div> - <div>And the whole deck put on its leaves again.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">James Elroy Flecker</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_398"><a href="#note_398">398</a></div> - - -<h4>THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER</h4> - -<p class="smcap center p-left">In Seven Parts</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="sm"><span class="smcap">Argument</span>: <i>How a Ship having passed the Line is -driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; -and how from thence she made her course to the Tropical -Latitude of the great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things -that befell; and in what manner the Ancient Mariner came back -to his own Country.</i></p></blockquote> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - -<p class="smcap center p-left">Part I</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It is an ancient Mariner,</div> - <div>And he stoppeth one of three.</div> - <div>"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,</div> - <div>Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,</div> - <div>And I am next of kin;</div> - <div>The guests are met, the feast is set:</div> - <div>May'st hear the merry din."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He holds him with his skinny hand,</div> - <div>"There was a ship," quoth he.</div> - <div>"Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!"</div> - <div>Eftsoons his hand dropt he.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He holds him with his glittering eye—</div> - <div>The Wedding-Guest stood still,</div> - <div>And listens like a three years' child:</div> - <div>The Mariner hath his will.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:</div> - <div>He cannot choose but hear;</div> - <div>And thus spake on that ancient man,</div> - <div>The bright-eyed Mariner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,</div> - <div>Merrily did we drop</div> - <div>Below the kirk, below the hill,</div> - <div>Below the lighthouse top.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Sun came up upon the left,</div> - <div>Out of the sea came he!</div> - <div>And he shone bright, and on the right</div> - <div>Went down into the sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Higher and higher every day,</div> - <div>Till over the mast at noon—"</div> - <div>The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,</div> - <div>For he heard the loud bassoon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The bride hath paced into the hall,</div> - <div>Red as a rose is she;</div> - <div>Nodding their heads before her goes</div> - <div>The merry minstrelsy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,</div> - <div>Yet he cannot choose but hear;</div> - <div>And thus spake on that ancient man,</div> - <div>The bright-eyed Mariner.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And now the <span class="smcap">Storm-Blast</span> came, and he</div> - <div>Was tyrannous and strong:</div> - <div>He struck with his o'ertaking wings,</div> - <div>And chased us south along.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With sloping masts and dipping prow,</div> - <div>As who pursued with yell and blow</div> - <div>Still treads the shadow of his foe,</div> - <div>And forward bends his head,</div> - <div>The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,</div> - <div>And southward aye we fled.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And now there came both mist and snow,</div> - <div>And it grew wondrous cold:</div> - <div>And ice, mast-high, came floating by,</div> - <div>As green as emerald.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And through the drifts the snowy clifts</div> - <div>Did send a dismal sheen:</div> - <div>Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken—</div> - <div>The ice was all between.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The ice was here, the ice was there,</div> - <div>The ice was all around:</div> - <div>It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,</div> - <div>Like noises in a swound!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At length did cross an Albatross,</div> - <div>Thorough the fog it came;</div> - <div>As if it had been a Christian soul,</div> - <div>We hailed it in God's name.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It ate the food it ne'er had eat,</div> - <div>And round and round it flew.</div> - <div>The ice did split with a thunder-fit;</div> - <div>The helmsman steered us through!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And a good south wind sprung up behind;</div> - <div>The Albatross did follow,</div> - <div>And every day, for food or play,</div> - <div>Came to the mariner's hollo!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,</div> - <div>It perched for vespers nine;</div> - <div>Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,</div> - <div>Glimmered the white Moon-shine."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"God save thee, ancient Mariner!</div> - <div>From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—</div> - <div>Why look'st thou so?"</div> - <div class="i9">—"With my cross-bow</div> - <div>I shot the <span class="smcap">Albatross</span>."</div> - </div> - -<p class="smcap center p-left p2">Part II</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Sun now rose upon the right:</div> - <div>Out of the sea came he,</div> - <div>Still hid in mist, and on the left</div> - <div>Went down into the sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the good south wind still blew behind,</div> - <div>But no sweet bird did follow,</div> - <div>Nor any day for food or play</div> - <div>Came to the mariners' hollo!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And I had done a hellish thing,</div> - <div>And it would work 'em woe:</div> - <div>For all averred, I had killed the bird</div> - <div>That made the breeze to blow.</div> - <div>Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,</div> - <div>That made the breeze to blow!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,</div> - <div>The glorious Sun uprist:</div> - <div>Then all averred, I had killed the bird</div> - <div>That brought the fog and mist.</div> - <div>'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,</div> - <div>That bring the fog and mist.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew.</div> - <div>The furrow followed free;</div> - <div>We were the first that ever burst</div> - <div>Into that silent sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,</div> - <div>'Twas sad as sad could be;</div> - <div>And we did speak only to break</div> - <div>The silence of the sea!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All in a hot and copper sky,</div> - <div>The bloody Sun, at noon,</div> - <div>Right up above the mast did stand,</div> - <div>No bigger than the Moon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Day after day, day after day,</div> - <div>We stuck, nor breath nor motion;</div> - <div>As idle as a painted ship</div> - <div>Upon a painted ocean.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Water, water, every where,</div> - <div>And all the boards did shrink;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span></div> - <div>Water, water, every where,</div> - <div>Nor any drop to drink.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The very deep did rot: O Christ!</div> - <div>That ever this should be!</div> - <div>Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs</div> - <div>Upon the slimy sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>About, about, in reel and rout</div> - <div>The death-fires danced at night;</div> - <div>The water, like a witch's oils,</div> - <div>Burnt green, and blue, and white.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And some in dreams assurèd were</div> - <div>Of the Spirit that plagued us so;</div> - <div>Nine fathom deep he had followed us</div> - <div>From the land of mist and snow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And every tongue, through utter drought,</div> - <div>Was withered at the root;</div> - <div>We could not speak, no more than if</div> - <div>We had been choked with soot.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ah! well a-day! what evil looks</div> - <div>Had I from old and young!</div> - <div>Instead of the cross, the Albatross</div> - <div>About my neck was hung.</div> - </div> - -<p class="smcap center p-left p2">Part III</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"There passed a weary time. Each throat</div> - <div>Was parched, and glazed each eye.</div> - <div>A weary time! a weary time!</div> - <div>How glazed each weary eye,</div> - <div>When looking westward, I beheld</div> - <div>A something in the sky.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At first it seemed a little speck,</div> - <div>And then it seemed a mist;</div> - <div>It moved and moved, and took at last</div> - <div>A certain shape, I wist.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!</div> - <div>And still it neared and neared:</div> - <div>As if it dodged a water-sprite,</div> - <div>It plunged and tacked and veered.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,</div> - <div>We could nor laugh nor wail;</div> - <div>Through utter drought all dumb we stood!</div> - <div>I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,</div> - <div>And cried, A sail! a sail!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,</div> - <div>Agape they heard me call:</div> - <div>Gramercy! they for joy did grin,</div> - <div>And all at once their breath drew in,</div> - <div>As they were drinking all.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!</div> - <div>Hither to work us weal;</div> - <div>Without a breeze, without a tide,</div> - <div>She steadies with upright keel!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The western wave was all a-flame,</div> - <div>The day was well nigh done!</div> - <div>Almost upon the western wave</div> - <div>Rested the broad bright Sun;</div> - <div>When that strange shape drove suddenly</div> - <div>Betwixt us and the Sun.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,</div> - <div>(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)</div> - <div>As if through a dungeon-grate he peered</div> - <div>With broad and burning face.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)</div> - <div>How fast she nears and nears!</div> - <div>Are those <i>her</i> sails that glance in the Sun,</div> - <div>Like restless gossameres?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Are those <i>her</i> ribs through which the Sun</div> - <div>Did peer, as through a grate?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span></div> - <div>And is that Woman all her crew?</div> - <div>Is that a <span class="smcap">Death</span>? and are there two?</div> - <div>Is <span class="smcap">Death</span> that woman's mate?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Her</i> lips were red, <i>her</i> looks were free,</div> - <div>Her locks were yellow as gold:</div> - <div>Her skin was as white as leprosy,</div> - <div>The Night-mare <span class="smcap">Life-in-Death</span> was she,</div> - <div>Who thicks man's blood with cold.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The naked hulk alongside came,</div> - <div>And the twain were casting dice;</div> - <div>"The game is done! I've won! I've won!"</div> - <div>Quoth she, and whistles thrice.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Sun's rim dips: the stars rush out:</div> - <div>At one stride comes the dark;</div> - <div>With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,</div> - <div>Off shot the spectre-bark.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We listened and looked sideways up!</div> - <div>Fear at my heart, as at a cup,</div> - <div>My life-blood seemed to sip!</div> - <div>The stars were dim, and thick the night,</div> - <div>The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;</div> - <div>From the sails the dew did drip—</div> - <div>Till clomb above the eastern bar</div> - <div>The hornèd Moon, with one bright star</div> - <div>Within the nether tip.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,</div> - <div>Too quick for groan or sigh,</div> - <div>Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,</div> - <div>And cursed me with his eye.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Four times fifty living men,</div> - <div>(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)</div> - <div>With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,</div> - <div>They dropped down one by one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The souls did from their bodies fly,—</div> - <div>They fled to bliss or woe!</div> - <div>And every soul, it passed me by,</div> - <div>Like the whizz of my cross-bow!"</div> - </div> - -<p class="smcap center p-left p2">Part IV</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I fear thee, ancient Mariner!</div> - <div>I fear thy skinny hand!</div> - <div>And thou art long, and lank, and brown,</div> - <div>As is the ribbed sea-sand.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I fear thee and thy glittering eye,</div> - <div>And thy skinny hand, so brown."—</div> - <div>"Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!</div> - <div>This body dropt not down.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Alone, alone, all, all alone,</div> - <div>Alone on a wide wide sea!</div> - <div>And never a saint took pity on</div> - <div>My soul in agony.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The many men, so beautiful!</div> - <div>And they all dead did lie:</div> - <div>And a thousand thousand slimy things</div> - <div>Lived on; and so did I.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I looked upon the rotting sea,</div> - <div>And drew my eyes away;</div> - <div>I looked upon the rotting deck,</div> - <div>And there the dead men lay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;</div> - <div>But or ever a prayer had gusht,</div> - <div>A wicked whisper came, and made</div> - <div>My heart as dry as dust.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I closed my lids, and kept them close,</div> - <div>And the balls like pulses beat;</div> - <div>For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky</div> - <div>Lay like a load on my weary eye,</div> - <div>And the dead were at my feet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The cold sweat melted from their limbs,</div> - <div>Nor rot nor reek did they:</div> - <div>The look with which they looked on me</div> - <div>Had never passed away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>An orphan's curse would drag to hell</div> - <div>A spirit from on high;</div> - <div>But oh! more horrible than that</div> - <div>Is the curse in a dead man's eye!</div> - <div>Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,</div> - <div>And yet I could not die.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The moving Moon went up the sky,</div> - <div>And no where did abide:</div> - <div>Softly she was going up,</div> - <div>And a star or two beside—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her beams bemocked the sultry main,</div> - <div>Like April hoar-frost spread;</div> - <div>But where the ship's huge shadow lay,</div> - <div>The charmèd water burnt alway</div> - <div>A still and awful red.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Beyond the shadow of the ship,</div> - <div>I watched the water-snakes:</div> - <div>They moved in tracks of shining white,</div> - <div>And when they reared, the elfish light</div> - <div>Fell off in hoary flakes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Within the shadow of the ship</div> - <div>I watched their rich attire:</div> - <div>Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,</div> - <div>They coiled and swam; and every track</div> - <div>Was a flash of golden fire.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O happy living things! no tongue</div> - <div>Their beauty might declare:</div> - <div>A spring of love gushed from my heart,</div> - <div>And I blessed them unaware:</div> - <div>Sure my kind saint took pity on me,</div> - <div>And I blessed them unaware.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The self-same moment I could pray;</div> - <div>And from my neck so free</div> - <div>The Albatross fell off, and sank</div> - <div>Like lead into the sea.</div> - </div> - -<p class="smcap center p-left p2">Part V</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,</div> - <div>Beloved from pole to pole!</div> - <div>To Mary Queen the praise be given!</div> - <div>She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,</div> - <div>That slid into my soul.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The silly buckets on the deck,</div> - <div>That had so long remained,</div> - <div>I dreamt that they were filled with dew;</div> - <div>And when I awoke, it rained.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My lips were wet, my throat was cold,</div> - <div>My garments all were dank;</div> - <div>Sure I had drunken in my dreams,</div> - <div>And still my body drank.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I moved, and could not feel my limbs:</div> - <div>I was so light—almost</div> - <div>I thought that I had died in sleep,</div> - <div>And was a blessèd ghost.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And soon I heard a roaring wind:</div> - <div>It did not come anear;</div> - <div>But with its sound it shook the sails,</div> - <div>That were so thin and sere.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The upper air burst into life!</div> - <div>And a hundred fire-flags sheen,</div> - <div>To and fro they were hurried about!</div> - <div>And to and fro, and in and out,</div> - <div>The wan stars danced between.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the coming wind did roar more loud,</div> - <div>And the sails did sigh like sedge;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span></div> - <div>And the rain poured down from one black cloud;</div> - <div>The Moon was at its edge.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The thick black cloud was cleft, and still</div> - <div>The Moon was at its side:</div> - <div>Like waters shot from some high crag,</div> - <div>The lightning fell with never a jag,</div> - <div>A river steep and wide.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The loud wind never reached the ship,</div> - <div>Yet now the ship moved on!</div> - <div>Beneath the lightning and the Moon</div> - <div>The dead men gave a groan.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,</div> - <div>Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;</div> - <div>It had been strange, even in a dream,</div> - <div>To have seen those dead men rise.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;</div> - <div>Yet never a breeze up-blew;</div> - <div>The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,</div> - <div>Where they were wont to do;</div> - <div>They raised their limbs like lifeless tools—</div> - <div>We were a ghastly crew.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The body of my brother's son</div> - <div>Stood by me, knee to knee:</div> - <div>The body and I pulled at one rope,</div> - <div>But he said nought to me."—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I fear thee, ancient Mariner!"—</div> - <div>"Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!</div> - <div>'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,</div> - <div>Which to their corses came again,</div> - <div>But a troop of spirits blest:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For when it dawned—they dropped their arms,</div> - <div>And clustered round the mast;</div> - <div>Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,</div> - <div>And from their bodies passed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Around, around, flew each sweet sound,</div> - <div>Then darted to the Sun;</div> - <div>Slowly the sounds came back again,</div> - <div>Now mixed, now one by one.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sometimes a-dropping from the sky</div> - <div>I heard the sky-lark sing;</div> - <div>Sometimes all little birds that are,</div> - <div>How they seemed to fill the sea and air</div> - <div>With their sweet jargoning!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And now 'twas like all instruments,</div> - <div>Now like a lonely flute;</div> - <div>And now it is an angel's song,</div> - <div>That makes the heavens be mute.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It ceased; yet still the sails made on</div> - <div>A pleasant noise till noon,</div> - <div>A noise like of a hidden brook</div> - <div>In the leafy month of June,</div> - <div>That to the sleeping woods all night</div> - <div>Singeth a quiet tune.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Till noon we silently sailed on,</div> - <div>Yet never a breeze did breathe:</div> - <div>Slowly and smoothly went the ship,</div> - <div>Moved onward from beneath.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Under the keel nine fathom deep,</div> - <div>From the land of mist and snow,</div> - <div>The spirit slid: and it was he</div> - <div>That made the ship to go.</div> - <div>The sails at noon left off their tune,</div> - <div>And the ship stood still also.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Sun, right up above the mast,</div> - <div>Had fixed her to the ocean;</div> - <div>But in a minute she 'gan stir,</div> - <div>With a short uneasy motion—</div> - <div>Backwards and forwards half her length</div> - <div>With a short uneasy motion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then like a pawing horse let go,</div> - <div>She made a sudden bound:</div> - <div>It flung the blood into my head,</div> - <div>And I fell down in a swound.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How long in that same fit I lay,</div> - <div>I have not to declare;</div> - <div>But ere my living life returned,</div> - <div>I heard and in my soul discerned</div> - <div>Two voices in the air.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Is it he?" quoth one, "Is this the man?</div> - <div>By him who died on cross,</div> - <div>With his cruel bow he laid full low</div> - <div>The harmless Albatross.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The spirit who bideth by himself</div> - <div>In the land of mist and snow,</div> - <div>He loved the bird that loved the man</div> - <div>Who shot him with his bow."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The other was a softer voice,</div> - <div>As soft as honey-dew:</div> - <div>Quoth he, "The man hath penance done,</div> - <div>And penance more will do."</div> - </div> - -<p class="smcap center p-left p2">Part VI</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ileft3"><i>First Voice.</i><span class="i1">"But tell me, tell me! speak again,</span></div> - <div>Thy soft response renewing—</div> - <div>What makes that ship drive on so fast?</div> - <div>What is the ocean doing?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ileft3"><i>Second Voice.</i><span class="i1">"Still as a slave before his lord,</span></div> - <div>The ocean hath no blast;</div> - <div>His great bright eye most silently</div> - <div>Up to the Moon is cast—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If he may know which way to go;</div> - <div>For she guides him smooth or grim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span></div> - <div>See, brother, see I how graciously</div> - <div>She looketh down on him."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ileft3"><i>First Voice.</i><span class="i1">"But why drives on that ship so fast,</span></div> - <div>Withouten wave or wind?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ileft3"><i>Second Voice.</i><span class="i1">"The air is cut away before,</span></div> - <div>And closes from behind.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!</div> - <div>Or we shall be belated:</div> - <div>For slow and slow that ship will go,</div> - <div>When the Mariner's trance is abated."—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I woke, and we were sailing on</div> - <div>As in a gentle weather:</div> - <div>'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;</div> - <div>The dead men stood together.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All stood together on the deck,</div> - <div>For a charnel-dungeon fitter:</div> - <div>All fixed on me their stony eyes,</div> - <div>That in the Moon did glitter.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The pang, the curse, with which they died,</div> - <div>Had never passed away:</div> - <div>I could not draw my eyes from theirs,</div> - <div>Nor turn them up to pray.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And now this spell was snapt: once more</div> - <div>I viewed the ocean green,</div> - <div>And looked far forth, yet little saw</div> - <div>Of what had else been seen—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Like one, that on a lonesome road</div> - <div>Doth walk in fear and dread,</div> - <div>And having once turned round walks on,</div> - <div>And turns no more his head;</div> - <div>Because he knows, a frightful fiend</div> - <div>Doth close behind him tread.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But soon there breathed a wind on me,</div> - <div>Nor sound nor motion made:</div> - <div>Its path was not upon the sea,</div> - <div>In ripple or in shade.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek</div> - <div>Like a meadow-gale of spring—</div> - <div>It mingled strangely with my fears,</div> - <div>Yet it felt like a welcoming.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,</div> - <div>Yet she sailed softly too:</div> - <div>Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—</div> - <div>On me alone it blew.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed</div> - <div>The light-house top I see?</div> - <div>Is this the hill? is this the kirk?</div> - <div>Is this mine own countree?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,</div> - <div>And I with sobs did pray—</div> - <div>O let me be awake, my God!</div> - <div>Or let me sleep alway.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The harbour-bay was clear as glass,</div> - <div>So smoothly it was strewn!</div> - <div>And on the bay the moonlight lay,</div> - <div>And the shadow of the Moon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,</div> - <div>That stands above the rock:</div> - <div>The moonlight steeped in silentness</div> - <div>The steady weathercock.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And the bay was white with silent light,</div> - <div>Till rising from the same,</div> - <div>Full many shapes, that shadows were,</div> - <div>In crimson colours came.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little distance from the prow</div> - <div>Those crimson shadows were:</div> - <div>I turned my eyes upon the deck—</div> - <div>Oh, Christ! what saw I there!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,</div> - <div>And, by the holy rood!</div> - <div>A man all light, a seraph-man,</div> - <div>On every corse there stood.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This seraph-band, each waved his hand:</div> - <div>It was a heavenly sight!</div> - <div>They stood as signals to the land,</div> - <div>Each one a lovely light;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This seraph-band, each waved his hand,</div> - <div>No voice did they impart—</div> - <div>No voice; but oh! the silence sank</div> - <div>Like music on my heart.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But soon I heard the dash of oars,</div> - <div>I heard the Pilot's cheer;</div> - <div>My head was turned perforce away,</div> - <div>And I saw a boat appear.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,</div> - <div>I heard them coming fast:</div> - <div>Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy</div> - <div>The dead men could not blast.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw a third—I heard his voice:</div> - <div>It is the Hermit good!</div> - <div>He singeth loud his godly hymns</div> - <div>That he makes in the wood.</div> - <div>He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away</div> - <div>The Albatross's blood.</div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span></p> - -<p class="smcap center p-left p2">Part VII</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This Hermit good lives in that wood</div> - <div>Which slopes down to the sea.</div> - <div>How loudly his sweet voice he rears!</div> - <div>He loves to talk with marineres</div> - <div>That come from a far countree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve—</div> - <div>He hath a cushion plump:</div> - <div>It is the moss that wholly hides</div> - <div>The rotted old oak-stump.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,</div> - <div>"Why, this is strange, I trow!</div> - <div>Where are those lights so many and fair,</div> - <div>That signal made but now?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said—</div> - <div>"And they answered not our cheer!</div> - <div>The planks looked warped! and see those sails,</div> - <div>How thin they are and sere!</div> - <div>I never saw aught like to them,</div> - <div>Unless perchance it were</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Brown skeletons of leaves that lag</div> - <div>My forest-brook along;</div> - <div>When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,</div> - <div>And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,</div> - <div>That eats the she-wolf's young."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look—</div> - <div>(The Pilot made reply)</div> - <div>I am a-feared"—"Push on, push on!"</div> - <div>Said the Hermit cheerily.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The boat came closer to the ship,</div> - <div>But I nor spake nor stirred;</div> - <div>The boat came close beneath the ship,</div> - <div>And straight a sound was heard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Under the water it rumbled on,</div> - <div>Still louder and more dread:</div> - <div>It reached the ship, it split the bay;</div> - <div>The ship went down like lead.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,</div> - <div>Which sky and ocean smote,</div> - <div>Like one that hath been seven days drowned</div> - <div>My body lay afloat;</div> - <div>But swift as dreams, myself I found</div> - <div>Within the Pilot's boat.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,</div> - <div>The boat spun round and round;</div> - <div>And all was still, save that the hill</div> - <div>Was telling of the sound.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I moved my lips—the Pilot shrieked</div> - <div>And fell down in a fit;</div> - <div>The holy Hermit raised his eyes,</div> - <div>And prayed where he did sit.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,</div> - <div>Who now doth crazy go,</div> - <div>Laughed loud and long, and all the while</div> - <div>His eyes went to and fro.</div> - <div>"Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see,</div> - <div>The Devil knows how to row."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And now, all in my own countree,</div> - <div>I stood on the firm land!</div> - <div>The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,</div> - <div>And scarcely he could stand.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"</div> - <div>The Hermit crossed his brow.</div> - <div>"Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say—</div> - <div>What manner of man art thou?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched</div> - <div>With a woful agony,</div> - <div>Which forced me to begin my tale;</div> - <div>And then it left me free.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Since then, at an uncertain hour,</div> - <div>That agony returns:</div> - <div>And till my ghastly tale is told,</div> - <div>This heart within me burns.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I pass, like night, from land to land;</div> - <div>I have strange power of speech;</div> - <div>That moment that his face I see,</div> - <div>I know the man that must hear me:</div> - <div>To him my tale I teach.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What loud uproar bursts from that door!</div> - <div>The wedding-guests are there:</div> - <div>But in the garden-bower the bride</div> - <div>And bride-maids singing are:</div> - <div>And hark the little vesper bell,</div> - <div>Which biddeth me to prayer!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been</div> - <div>Alone on a wide wide sea:</div> - <div>So lonely 'twas, that God himself</div> - <div>Scarce seemèd there to be.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O sweeter than the marriage-feast,</div> - <div>'Tis sweeter far to me,</div> - <div>To walk together to the kirk</div> - <div>With a goodly company!—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To walk together to the kirk,</div> - <div>And all together pray,</div> - <div>While each to his great Father bends,</div> - <div>Old men, and babes, and loving friends</div> - <div>And youths and maidens gay!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Farewell, farewell! but this I tell</div> - <div>To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span></div> - <div>He prayeth well, who loveth well</div> - <div>Both man and bird and beast.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He prayeth best, who loveth best</div> - <div>All things both great and small;</div> - <div>For the dear God who loveth us,</div> - <div>He made and loveth all."—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Mariner, whose eye is bright,</div> - <div>Whose beard with age is hoar,</div> - <div>Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest</div> - <div>Turned from the bridegroom's door.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He went like one that hath been stunned,</div> - <div>And is of sense forlorn:</div> - <div>A sadder and a wiser man,</div> - <div>He rose the morrow morn.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_399"><a href="#note_399">399</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CHILD AND THE MARINER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This sailor knows of wondrous lands afar,</div> - <div>More rich than Spain, when the Phoenicians shipped</div> - <div>Silver for common ballast, and they saw</div> - <div>Horses at silver mangers eating grain;</div> - <div>This man has seen the wind blow up a mermaid's hair</div> - <div>Which, like a golden serpent, reared and stretched</div> - <div>To feel the air away beyond her head....</div> - <div>He many a tale of wonder told: of where,</div> - <div>At Argostoli, Cephalonia's sea</div> - <div>Ran over the earth's lip in heavy floods;</div> - <div>And then again of how the strange Chinese</div> - <div>Conversed much as our homely Blackbirds sing.</div> - <div>He told us how he sailed in one old ship</div> - <div>Near that volcano Martinique, whose power</div> - <div>Shook like dry leaves the whole Caribbean seas;</div> - <div>And made the sun set in a sea of fire</div> - <div>Which only half was his; and dust was thick</div> - <div>On deck, and stones were pelted at the mast....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span></div> - <div>He told how isles sprang up and sank again,</div> - <div>Between short voyages, to his amaze;</div> - <div>How they did come and go, and cheated charts;</div> - <div>Told how a crew was cursed when one man killed</div> - <div>A bird that perched upon a moving barque;</div> - <div>And how the sea's sharp needles, firm and strong,</div> - <div>Ripped open the bellies of big, iron ships;</div> - <div>Of mighty icebergs in the Northern seas,</div> - <div>That haunt the far horizon like white ghosts.</div> - <div>He told of waves that lift a ship so high.</div> - <div>That birds could pass from starboard unto port</div> - <div>Under her dripping keel.</div> - <div class="i10">Oh, it was sweet</div> - <div>To hear that seaman tell such wondrous tales....</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William H. Davies</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_400"><a href="#note_400">400</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE PARROTS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Somewhere, somewhen I've seen,</div> - <div>But where or when I'll never know,</div> - <div>Parrots of shrilly green</div> - <div>With crests of shriller scarlet flying</div> - <div>Out of black cedars as the sun was dying</div> - <div>Against cold peaks of snow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>From what forgotten life</div> - <div>Of other worlds I cannot tell</div> - <div>Flashes that screeching strife:</div> - <div>Yet the shrill colour and shrill crying</div> - <div>Sing through my blood and set my heart replying</div> - <div>And jangling like a bell.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Wilfrid Gibson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_401">401</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I met a traveller from an antique land</div> - <div>Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone</div> - <div>Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,</div> - <div>Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown</div> - <div>And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command</div> - <div>Tell that its sculptor well those passions read</div> - <div>Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,</div> - <div>The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:</div> - <div>And on the pedestal these words appear:</div> - <div>"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:</div> - <div>Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"</div> - <div>Nothing beside remains. Round the decay</div> - <div>Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare</div> - <div>The lone and level sands stretch far away.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_402"><a href="#note_402">402</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ST. ANTHONY'S TOWNSHIP</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The trees of the elder lands,</div> - <div>Give ear to the march of Time,</div> - <div>To his steps that are heavy and slow</div> - <div>In the streets of ruined cities</div> - <div>That were great awhile ago—</div> - <div>Skeletons bare to the skies</div> - <div>Or mummies hid in the sands,</div> - <div>Wasting to rubble and lime.</div> - <div>Ancient are they and wise;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But the gum-trees down by the creek,</div> - <div>Gnarled, archaic and grey,</div> - <div>Are even as wise as they.</div> - <div>They have learned in a score of years</div> - <div>The lore that their brethren know;</div> - <div>For they saw a town arise,</div> - <div>Arise and pass.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There are pits by the dry, dead river,</div> - <div>Whence the diggers won their gold,</div> - <div>A circle traced in the grass,</div> - <div>A hearthstone long a-cold,</div> - <div>A path none come to seek—</div> - <div>The trail of the pioneers—</div> - <div>Where the sheep wind to and fro;</div> - <div>And the rest is a tale that is told</div> - <div>By voices quavering and weak</div> - <div>Of men grown old.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Gilbert Sheldon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_403"><a href="#note_403">403</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SILENCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There is a silence where hath been no sound,</div> - <div class="i1">There is a silence where no sound may be,</div> - <div class="i1">In the cold grave—under the deep—deep sea,</div> - <div>Or in wide desert where no life is found,</div> - <div>Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound;</div> - <div class="i1">No voice is hushed—no life treads silently,</div> - <div class="i1">But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free,</div> - <div>That never spoke, over the idle ground:</div> - <div>But in green ruins, in the desolate walls</div> - <div class="i1">Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,</div> - <div>Though the dun fox, or wild hyaena, calls,</div> - <div class="i1">And owls, that flit continually between,</div> - <div>Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan,</div> - <div>There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Thomas Hood</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_404"><a href="#note_404">404</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>KUBLA KHAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In Xanadu did Kubla Khan</div> - <div>A stately pleasure-dome decree:</div> - <div>Where Alph, the sacred river, ran</div> - <div>Through caverns measureless to man</div> - <div class="i1">Down to a sunless sea.</div> - <div>So twice five miles of fertile ground</div> - <div>With walls and towers were girdled round:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span></div> - <div>And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills</div> - <div>Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;</div> - <div>And here were forests ancient as the hills,</div> - <div>Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted</div> - <div>Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!</div> - <div>A savage place! as holy and enchanted</div> - <div>As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted</div> - <div>By woman wailing for her demon-lover!</div> - <div>And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,</div> - <div>As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,</div> - <div>A mighty fountain momently was forced:</div> - <div>Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst</div> - <div>Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,</div> - <div>Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:</div> - <div>And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever</div> - <div>It flung up momently the sacred river.</div> - <div>Five miles meandering with a mazy motion</div> - <div>Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,</div> - <div>Then reached the caverns measureless to man,</div> - <div>And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:</div> - <div>And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far</div> - <div>Ancestral voices prophesying war!</div> - <div class="i2">The shadow of the dome of pleasure</div> - <div class="i2">Floated midway on the waves;</div> - <div class="i2">Where was heard the mingled measure</div> - <div class="i2">From the fountain and the caves.</div> - <div class="i1">It was a miracle of rare device,</div> - <div class="i1">A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">A damsel with a dulcimer</div> - <div class="i2">In a vision once I saw:</div> - <div class="i2">It was an Abyssinian maid,</div> - <div class="i2">And on her dulcimer she played,</div> - <div class="i2">Singing of Mount Abora.</div> - <div class="i2">Could I revive within me</div> - <div class="i2">Her symphony and song,</div> - <div class="i1">To such a deep delight 'twould win me,</div> - <div class="i1">That with music loud and long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span></div> - <div>I would build that dome in air,</div> - <div>That sunny dome! those caves of ice!</div> - <div>And all who heard should see them there,</div> - <div>And all should cry, Beware! Beware!</div> - <div>His flashing eyes, his floating hair!</div> - <div>Weave a circle round him thrice,</div> - <div>And close your eyes with holy dread,</div> - <div>For he on honey-dew hath fed,</div> - <div>And drunk the milk of Paradise....</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_405">405</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LOST LOVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His eyes are quickened so with grief,</div> - <div>He can watch a grass or leaf</div> - <div>Every instant grow; he can</div> - <div>Clearly through a flint wall see,</div> - <div>Or watch the startled spirit flee</div> - <div>From the throat of a dead man.</div> - <div class="i1">Across two counties he can hear,</div> - <div>And catch your words before you speak.</div> - <div>The woodlouse, or the maggot's weak</div> - <div>Clamour rings in his sad ear;</div> - <div>And noise so slight it would surpass</div> - <div>Credence:—drinking sound of grass,</div> - <div>Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth</div> - <div>Chumbling holes in cloth:</div> - <div>The groan of ants who undertake</div> - <div>Gigantic loads for honour's sake,</div> - <div>Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin:</div> - <div>Whir of spiders when they spin,</div> - <div>And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs</div> - <div>Of idle grubs and flies.</div> - <div class="i1">This man is quickened so with grief,</div> - <div>He wanders god-like or like thief</div> - <div>Inside and out, below, above,</div> - <div>Without relief seeking lost love.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Graves</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_406"><a href="#note_406">406</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ECSTASY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw a frieze on whitest marble drawn</div> - <div>Of boys who sought for shells along the shore,</div> - <div>Their white feet shedding pallor in the sea,</div> - <div>The shallow sea, the spring-time sea of green</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That faintly creamed against the cold, smooth pebbles....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>One held a shell unto his shell-like ear</div> - <div>And there was music carven in his face,</div> - <div>His eyes half-closed, his lips just breaking open</div> - <div>To catch the lulling, mazy, coralline roar</div> - <div>Of numberless caverns filled with singing seas.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And all of them were hearkening as to singing</div> - <div>Of far-off voices thin and delicate,</div> - <div>Voices too fine for any mortal wind</div> - <div>To blow into the whorls of mortal ears—</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And yet those sounds flowed from their grave, sweet faces.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And as I looked I heard that delicate music,</div> - <div>And I became as grave, as calm, as still</div> - <div>As those carved boys. I stood upon that shore,</div> - <div>I felt the cool sea dream around my feet,</div> - <div>My eyes were staring at the far horizon....</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Walter J. Turner</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_407"><a href="#note_407">407</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SEA OF DEATH</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... And there were spring-faced cherubs that did sleep</div> - <div>Like water-lilies on that motionless deep,</div> - <div>How beautiful! with bright unruffled hair</div> - <div>On sleek unfretted brows, and eyes that were</div> - <div>Buried in marble tombs, a pale eclipse!</div> - <div>And smile-bedimpled cheeks, and pleasant lips,</div> - <div>Meekly apart, as if the soul intense</div> - <div>Spake out in dreams of its own innocence....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span></div> - <div>So lay they garmented in torpid light,</div> - <div>Under the pall of a transparent night,</div> - <div>Like solemn apparitions lulled sublime</div> - <div>To everlasting rest,—and with them Time</div> - <div>Slept, as he sleeps upon the silent face</div> - <div>Of a dark dial in a sunless place.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_408">408</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE FROZEN OCEAN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The sea would flow no longer,</div> - <div class="i1">It wearied after change,</div> - <div>It called its tides and breakers in,</div> - <div class="i1">From where they might range.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It sent an icy message</div> - <div class="i1">To every wave and rill;</div> - <div>They lagged, they paused, they stiffened,</div> - <div class="i1">They froze, and were still.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It summoned in its currents,</div> - <div class="i1">They reached not where they led;</div> - <div>It bound its foaming whirlpools.</div> - <div class="i1">"Not the old life," it said,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Not fishes for the fishermen,</div> - <div class="i1">Not bold ships as before,</div> - <div>Not beating loud for ever</div> - <div class="i1">Upon the seashore,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But cold white foxes stepping</div> - <div class="i1">On to my hard proud breast,</div> - <div>And a bird coming sweetly</div> - <div class="i1">And building a nest.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My icebergs shall be mountains,</div> - <div class="i1">My silent fields of snow</div> - <div>Unmarked shall join the lands' snowfields—</div> - <div class="i1">Where, no man shall know."</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Viola Meynell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_409">409</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE END OF THE WORLD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The snow had fallen many nights and days;</div> - <div>The sky was come upon the earth at last,</div> - <div>Sifting thinly down as endlessly</div> - <div>As though within the system of blind planets</div> - <div>Something had been forgot or overdriven.</div> - <div>The dawn now seemed neglected in the grey</div> - <div>Where mountains were unbuilt and shadowless trees</div> - <div>Rootlessly paused or hung upon the air.</div> - <div>There was no wind, but now and then a sigh</div> - <div>Crossed that dry falling dust and rifted it</div> - <div>Through crevices of slate and door and casement.</div> - <div>Perhaps the new moon's time was even past.</div> - <div>Outside, the first white twilights were too void</div> - <div>Until a sheep called once, as to a lamb,</div> - <div>And tenderness crept everywhere from it;</div> - <div>But now the flock must have strayed far away.</div> - <div>The lights across the valley must be veiled,</div> - <div>The smoke lost in the greyness or the dusk.</div> - <div>For more than three days now the snow had thatched</div> - <div>That cow-house roof where it had ever melted</div> - <div>With yellow stains from the beasts' breath inside;</div> - <div>But yet a dog howled there, though not quite lately.</div> - <div>Someone passed down the valley swift and singing,</div> - <div>Yes, with locks spreaded like a son of morning;</div> - <div>But if he seemed too tall to be a man</div> - <div>It was that men had been so long unseen,</div> - <div>Or shapes loom larger through a moving snow.</div> - <div>And he was gone and food had not been given him.</div> - <div>When snow slid from an overweighted leaf,</div> - <div>Shaking the tree, it might have been a bird</div> - <div>Slipping in sleep or shelter, whirring wings;</div> - <div>Yet never bird fell out, save once a dead one—</div> - <div>And in two days the snow had covered it.</div> - <div>The dog had howled again—or thus it seemed</div> - <div>Until a lean fox passed and cried no more.</div> - <div>All was so safe indoors where life went on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span></div> - <div>Glad of the close enfolding snow—O glad</div> - <div>To be so safe and secret at its heart,</div> - <div>Watching the strangeness of familiar things.</div> - <div>They knew not what dim hours went on, went by,</div> - <div>For while they slept the clock stopt newly wound</div> - <div>As the cold hardened. Once they watched the road,</div> - <div>Thinking to be remembered. Once they doubted</div> - <div>If they had kept the sequence of the days,</div> - <div>Because they heard not any sound of bells.</div> - <div>A butterfly, that hid until the Spring</div> - <div>Under a ceiling's shadow, dropt, was dead.</div> - <div>The coldness seemed more nigh, the coldness deepened</div> - <div>As a sound deepens into silences;</div> - <div>It was of earth and came not by the air;</div> - <div>The earth was cooling and drew down the sky.</div> - <div>The air was crumbling. There was no more sky.</div> - <div>Rails of a broken bed charred in the grate,</div> - <div>And when he touched the bars he thought the sting</div> - <div>Came from their heat—he could not feel such cold...</div> - <div>She said, "O do not sleep,</div> - <div>Heart, heart of mine, keep near me. No, no; sleep.</div> - <div>I will not lift his fallen, quiet eyelids,</div> - <div>Although I know he would awaken then—</div> - <div>He closed them thus but now of his own will.</div> - <div>He can stay with me while I do not lift them."</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Gordon Bottomley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_413" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_413.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>OLD TALES AND BALLADRY</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_410">410</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FLANNAN ISLE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Though three men dwell on Flannan Isle</div> - <div>To keep the lamp alight,</div> - <div>As we steered under the lee, we caught</div> - <div>No glimmer through the night."—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A passing ship at dawn had brought</div> - <div>The news; and quickly we set sail,</div> - <div>To find out what strange thing might ail</div> - <div>The keepers of the deep-sea light.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Winter day broke blue and bright,</div> - <div>With glancing sun and glancing spray,</div> - <div>While o'er the swell our boat made way,</div> - <div>As gallant as a gull in flight.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But as we neared the lonely Isle,</div> - <div>And looked up at the naked height,</div> - <div>And saw the lighthouse towering white,</div> - <div>With blinded lantern, that all night</div> - <div>Had never shot a spark</div> - <div>Of comfort through the dark,</div> - <div>So ghostly in the cold sunlight</div> - <div>It seemed, that we were struck the while</div> - <div>With wonder all too dread for words.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And as into the tiny creek</div> - <div>We stole beneath the hanging crag,</div> - <div>We saw three queer, black, ugly birds—</div> - <div>Too big, by far, in my belief,</div> - <div>For cormorant or shag—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span></div> - <div>Like seamen sitting bolt-upright</div> - <div>Upon a half-tide reef:</div> - <div>But, as we neared, they plunged from sight,</div> - <div>Without a sound, or spurt of white.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And still too mazed to speak,</div> - <div>We landed; and made fast the boat;</div> - <div>And climbed the track in single file,</div> - <div>Each wishing he were safe afloat,</div> - <div>On any sea, however far,</div> - <div>So it be far from Flannan Isle:</div> - <div>And still we seemed to climb, and climb,</div> - <div>As though we'd lost all count of time,</div> - <div>And so must climb for evermore.</div> - <div>Yet, all too soon, we reached the door</div> - <div>The black, sun-blistered lighthouse-door,</div> - <div>That gaped for us ajar.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As, on the threshold, for a spell,</div> - <div>We paused, we seemed to breathe the smell</div> - <div>Of limewash and of tar,</div> - <div>Familiar as our daily breath,</div> - <div>As though 'twere some strange scent of death:</div> - <div>And so, yet wondering, side by side,</div> - <div>We stood a moment, still tongue-tied:</div> - <div>And each with black foreboding eyed</div> - <div>The door, ere we should fling it wide,</div> - <div>To leave the sunlight for the gloom:</div> - <div>Till, plucking courage up, at last,</div> - <div>Hard on each other's heels we passed,</div> - <div>Into the living-room.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet, as we crowded through the door,</div> - <div>We only saw a table, spread</div> - <div>For dinner, meat and cheese and bread;</div> - <div>But, all untouched; and no one there:</div> - <div>As though, when they sat down to eat,</div> - <div>Ere they could even taste,</div> - <div>Alarm had come; and they in haste</div> - <div>Had risen and left the bread and meat:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span></div> - <div>For at the table-head a chair</div> - <div>Lay tumbled on the floor.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We listened; but we only heard</div> - <div>The feeble cheeping of a bird</div> - <div>That starved upon its perch:</div> - <div>And, listening still, without a word,</div> - <div>We set about our hopeless search.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We hunted high, we hunted low;</div> - <div>And soon ransacked the empty house;</div> - <div>Then o'er the Island, to and fro,</div> - <div>We ranged, to listen and to look</div> - <div>In every cranny, cleft or nook</div> - <div>That might have hid a bird or mouse:</div> - <div>But, though we searched from shore to shore</div> - <div>We found no sign in any place:</div> - <div>And soon again stood face to face</div> - <div>Before the gaping door:</div> - <div>And stole into the room once more</div> - <div>As frightened children steal.</div> - <div>Ay: though we hunted high and low,</div> - <div>And hunted everywhere,</div> - <div>Of the three men's fate we found no trace</div> - <div>Of any kind in any place,</div> - <div>But a door ajar, and an untouched meal,</div> - <div>And an overtoppled chair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And as we listened in the gloom</div> - <div>Of that forsaken living-room—</div> - <div>A chill clutch on our breath—</div> - <div>We thought how ill-chance came to all</div> - <div>Who kept the Flannan Light:</div> - <div>And how the rock had been the death</div> - <div>Of many a likely lad:</div> - <div>How six had come to a sudden end,</div> - <div>And three had gone stark mad:</div> - <div>And one whom we'd all known as friend</div> - <div>Had leapt from the lantern one still night,</div> - <div>And fallen dead by the lighthouse wall:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span></div> - <div>And long we thought</div> - <div>On the three we sought,</div> - <div>And of what might yet befall.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Like curs a glance has brought to heel,</div> - <div>We listened, flinching there:</div> - <div>And looked, and looked, on the untouched meal,</div> - <div>And the overtoppled chair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>We seemed to stand for an endless while,</div> - <div>Though still no word was said,</div> - <div>Three men alive on Flannan Isle,</div> - <div>Who thought on three men dead.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Wilfrid Gibson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_411"><a href="#note_411">411</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE GOLDEN VANITY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was a gallant ship, and a gallant ship was she,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Eck iddle du, and the Lowlands low</i>;</div> - <div>And she was called The Goulden Vanitie.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As she sailed to the Lowlands low</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She had not sailed a league, a league but only three,</div> - <div>When she came up with a French gallee.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As she sailed to the Lowlands low</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he;</div> - <div>"What will you give me if I sink that French gallee?</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As ye sail to the Lowlands low</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I'll give thee gold, and I'll give thee fee,</div> - <div>And my eldest daughter thy wife shall be</div> - <div class="i1"><i>If you sink her off the Lowlands low</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Then row me up ticht in a black bull's skin,</div> - <div>And throw me oer deck-buird, sink I or swim.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As ye sail to the Lowlands low</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So they've rowed him up ticht in a black bull's skin,</div> - <div>And have thrown him oer deck-buird, sink he or swim.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As they sail to the Lowlands low</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>About, and about, and about went he,</div> - <div>Until he cam up with the French gallee.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As they sailed to the Lowlands low</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O some were playing cards, and some were playing dice,</div> - <div>The boy he had an auger bored holes two at twice;</div> - <div>He let the water in, and it dazzled in their eyes,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As they sailed to the Lowlands low</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then some they ran with cloaks, and some they ran with caps,</div> - <div>To try if they could stap the saut-water draps.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As they sailed to the Lowlands low</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>About, and about, and about went he,</div> - <div>Until he cam back to The Goulden Vanitie.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As they sailed to the Lowlands low</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Now throw me oer a rope and pu me up on buird,</div> - <div>And prove unto me as guid as your word.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As ye sail to the Lowlands low</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"We'll no throw ye oer a rope, nor pu you up on buird,</div> - <div>Nor prove unto you as guid as our word.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As we sail to the Lowlands low</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"You promised me gold, and you promised me fee,</div> - <div>Your eldest daughter my wife she should be.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As ye sail to the Lowlands low</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"You shall have gold, and you shall have fee,</div> - <div>But my eldest daughter your wife shall never be.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As we sail to the Lowlands low</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he;</div> - <div>"Then hang me, I'll sink ye as I sunk the French gallee.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>As ye sail to the Lowlands low</i>."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The boy he swam round all by the starboard side,</div> - <div>When they pu'd him up on buird it's there he soon died;</div> - <div>They threw him o'er deck-buird to go down with the tide,</div> - <div class="i1"><i>And sink off the Lowlands low</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_412"><a href="#note_412">412</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BROWN ROBYN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It fell upon a Wodensday</div> - <div class="i1">Brown Robyn's men went to sea,</div> - <div>But they saw neither moon nor sun,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor starlight with their ee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"We'll cast kevels us amang,</div> - <div class="i1">See wha the unhappy man may be:"</div> - <div>The kevel fell on Brown Robyn,</div> - <div class="i1">The master-man was hee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"It is nae wonder," said Brown Robyn,</div> - <div class="i1">"Altho I dinna thrive;</div> - <div>[For if the deidly sins be seven,</div> - <div class="i1">Befallen me hae five.]</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But tie me to a plank o wude,</div> - <div class="i1">And throw me in the sea;</div> - <div>And if I sink, ye may bid me sink,</div> - <div class="i1">But if I swim, lat me bee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They've tyed him to a plank o wude,</div> - <div class="i1">And thrown him in the sea;</div> - <div>He didna sink, tho they bade him sink;</div> - <div class="i1">He swimd, and they lat him be.—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He hadna been into the sea</div> - <div class="i1">An hour but barely three,</div> - <div>Till by and came Our Blessed Lady,</div> - <div class="i1">Her dear young son her wi.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Will ye gang to your men again?</div> - <div class="i1">Or will ye gang wi me?</div> - <div>Will ye gang to the high heavens,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi my dear son and me?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I winna gang to my men again,</div> - <div class="i1">For they woud be feared at mee;</div> - <div>But I woud gang to the high heavens,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi thy dear son and thee."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"It's for nae honour ye did to me, Brown Robyn,</div> - <div class="i1">It's for nae guid ye did to mee;</div> - <div>But a' is for your fair confession</div> - <div class="i1">You've made upon the sea."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_413">413</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ONE FRIDAY MORN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>One Friday morn when we set sail,</div> - <div class="i1">Not very far from land,</div> - <div>We there did espy a fair pretty maid</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand,</div> - <div class="i1">With a comb and a glass in her hand.</div> - <div class="i2"><i>While the raging seas did roar,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>And the stormy winds did blow,</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>While we jolly sailor-boys were up into the top,</i></div> - <div class="i3 hangingindent"><i>And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>And the land-lubbers lying down below.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then up starts the captain of our gallant ship,</div> - <div class="i1">And a brave young man was he:</div> - <div>"I've a wife and a child in fair Bristol town,</div> - <div class="i1">But a widow I fear she will be."</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And the raging seas did roar,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>And the stormy winds did blow.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then up starts the mate of our gallant ship,</div> - <div class="i1">And a bold young man was he:</div> - <div>"Oh! I have a wife in fair Portsmouth town,</div> - <div class="i1">But a widow I fear she will be."</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And the raging seas did roar,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>And the stormy winds did blow.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then up starts the cook of our gallant ship,</div> - <div class="i1">And a gruff old soul was he:</div> - <div>"Oh! I have a wife in fair Plymouth town,</div> - <div class="i1">But a widow I fear she will be."</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And the raging seas did roar,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>And the stormy winds did blow.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And then up spoke the little cabin-boy,</div> - <div class="i1">And a pretty little boy was he;</div> - <div>"Oh! I am more grieved for my daddy and my mammy</div> - <div class="i1">Than you for your wives all three."</div> - <div class="i2"><i>And the raging seas did roar,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>And the stormy winds did blow.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then three times round went our gallant ship,</div> - <div class="i1">And three times round went she;</div> - <div>And three times round went our gallant ship,</div> - <div class="i1">And she sank to the bottom of the sea....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2"><i>And the raging seas did roar,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>And the stormy winds did blow.</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>While we jolly sailor-boys were up into the top,</i></div> - <div class="i3 hangingindent"><i>And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,</i></div> - <div class="i3"><i>And the land-lubbers lying down below.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_414">414</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SHIP</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was no song nor shout of joy</div> - <div class="i1">Nor beam of moon or sun,</div> - <div>When she came back from the voyage</div> - <div class="i1">Long ago begun;</div> - <div>But twilight on the waters</div> - <div class="i1">Was quiet and grey,</div> - <div>And she glided steady, steady and pensive,</div> - <div class="i1">Over the open bay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her sails were brown and ragged,</div> - <div class="i1">And her crew hollow-eyed,</div> - <div>But their silent lips spoke content</div> - <div class="i1">And their shoulders pride;</div> - <div>Though she had no captives on her deck,</div> - <div class="i1">And in her hold</div> - <div>There were no heaps of corn or timber</div> - <div class="i1">Or silks or gold.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">J. C. Squire</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_415"><a href="#note_415">415</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MOON-CHILD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little lonely child am I</div> - <div class="i1">That have not any soul:</div> - <div>God made me as the homeless wave,</div> - <div class="i1">That has no goal.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A seal my father was, a seal</div> - <div class="i1">That once was man;</div> - <div>My mother loved him tho' he was</div> - <div class="i1">'Neath mortal ban.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He took a wave and drownèd her,</div> - <div class="i1">She took a wave and lifted him:</div> - <div>And I was born where shadows are</div> - <div class="i1">In sea-depths dim.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All through the sunny blue-sweet hours</div> - <div class="i1">I swim and glide in waters green:</div> - <div>Never by day the mournful shores</div> - <div class="i1">By me are seen.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But when the gloom is on the wave</div> - <div class="i1">A shell unto the shore I bring:</div> - <div>And then upon the rocks I sit</div> - <div class="i1">And plaintive sing.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I have no playmate but the tide</div> - <div class="i1">The seaweed loves with dark brown eyes:</div> - <div>The night-waves have the stars for play,</div> - <div class="i1">For me but sighs.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">"Fiona Macleod" (William Sharp)</div> - </div> - - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_416">416</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE MERMAID</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To yon fause stream that, by the sea,</div> - <div class="i1">Hides mony an elf and plum,<a name="FNanchor_162_162" id="FNanchor_162_162"></a><a href="#Footnote_162_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a></div> - <div>And rives wi' fearful din the stanes,</div> - <div class="i1">A witless knicht did come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The day shines clear. Far in he's gane,</div> - <div class="i1">Whar shells are silver bright;</div> - <div>Fishes war loupin'<a name="FNanchor_163_163" id="FNanchor_163_163"></a><a href="#Footnote_163_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a> a' aroun'</div> - <div class="i1">An' sparklin' to the light.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When, as he laved, sounds came sae sweet</div> - <div class="i1">Frae ilka rock ajee;<a name="FNanchor_164_164" id="FNanchor_164_164"></a><a href="#Footnote_164_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a></div> - <div>The brief<a name="FNanchor_165_165" id="FNanchor_165_165"></a><a href="#Footnote_165_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a> was out; 'twas him it doomed</div> - <div class="i1">The mermaid's face to see.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Frae 'neath a rock sune, sune she rose,</div> - <div class="i1">An' stately on she swam,</div> - <div>Stopped i' the midst, and becked and sang</div> - <div class="i1">For him to stretch his han';</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Gowden glist the yellow links</div> - <div class="i1">That roun' her neck she'd twine;</div> - <div>Her een war o' the skyie blue,</div> - <div class="i1">Her lips did mock the wine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The smile upon her bonnie cheek</div> - <div class="i1">Was sweeter than the bee;</div> - <div>Her voice excelled the birdie's sang</div> - <div class="i1">Upon the birchen tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sae couthie, couthie did she look,</div> - <div class="i1">And meikle had she fleeched;<a name="FNanchor_166_166" id="FNanchor_166_166"></a><a href="#Footnote_166_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a></div> - <div>Out shot his hand—alas! alas!</div> - <div class="i1">Fast in the swirl he screeched.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The mermaid leuched;<a name="FNanchor_167_167" id="FNanchor_167_167"></a><a href="#Footnote_167_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a> her brief was dane;</div> - <div class="i1">The kelpie's blast was blawin':</div> - <div>Fu' low she dived, ne'er cam' again;</div> - <div class="i1">For deep, deep was the fawin'.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Aboon the stream his wraith was seen:</div> - <div class="i1">Warlocks tirled lang at gloamin':</div> - <div>That e'en was coarse;<a name="FNanchor_168_168" id="FNanchor_168_168"></a><a href="#Footnote_168_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a> the blast blew hoarse</div> - <div class="i1">Ere lang the waves war foamin'.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_417">417</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>QUO' THE TWEED</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Quo' the Tweed to the Till,</div> - <div class="i1">"What gars ye gang sae still?"</div> - <div>Quo' the Till to the Tweed,</div> - <div class="i1">"Though ye rin wi' speed,</div> - <div>And I rin slaw,</div> - <div>For ilka are that ye droon,</div> - <div class="i4">I droon twa."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_418"><a href="#note_418">418</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SIR PATRICK SPENCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The king sits in Dumferling toune,</div> - <div class="i1">Drinking the blude-reid wine:</div> - <div>"O whar will I get ae guid sailor,</div> - <div class="i1">To sail this schip of mine?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Up and spak an eldern knicht,</div> - <div class="i1">Sat at the king's richt kne;</div> - <div>"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor</div> - <div class="i1">That sails upon the se."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The king has written a braid letter,</div> - <div class="i1">And signd it wi his hand,</div> - <div>And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,</div> - <div class="i1">Was walking on the sand.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The first line that Sir Patrick red,</div> - <div class="i1">A loud lauch lauched he;</div> - <div>The next line that Sir Patrick red,</div> - <div class="i1">The teir blinded his ee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O wha is this has done this deid,</div> - <div class="i1">This ill deid don to me,</div> - <div>To send me out this time o' the yeir,</div> - <div class="i1">To sail upon the se!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all,</div> - <div class="i1">Our guid schip sails the morne."</div> - <div>"O say na sae, my master deir,</div> - <div class="i1">Fir I feir a deadlie storme.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' the auld moone in hir arme,</div> - <div>And I feir, I feir, my deir master,</div> - <div class="i1">That we will cum to harme."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O our Scots nobles wer richt laith<a name="FNanchor_169_169" id="FNanchor_169_169"></a><a href="#Footnote_169_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a></div> - <div class="i1">To weet<a name="FNanchor_170_170" id="FNanchor_170_170"></a><a href="#Footnote_170_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a> their cork-heil'd schoone;</div> - <div>Bot lang owre<a name="FNanchor_171_171" id="FNanchor_171_171"></a><a href="#Footnote_171_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a> a' the play wer playd,</div> - <div class="i1">Thair hats they swam aboone.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O lang, lang may their ladies sit</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' thair fans into their hand</div> - <div>Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence</div> - <div class="i1">Cum sailing to the land.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O lang, lang may the ladies stand,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' thair gold kems in their hair,</div> - <div>Waiting for thair ain deir lords,</div> - <div class="i1">For they'll se thame no mair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,</div> - <div class="i1">It's fiftie fadom deip,</div> - <div>And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' the Scots lords at his feit.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_419"><a href="#note_419">419</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ALLISON GROSS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O Allison Gross, that lives in yon towr,</div> - <div class="i1">The ugliest witch i the north country,</div> - <div>Has trysted me ae day up till her bowr,</div> - <div class="i1">An monny fair speech she made to me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair,</div> - <div class="i1">An she set me down saftly on her knee;</div> - <div>Says, Gin<a name="FNanchor_172_172" id="FNanchor_172_172"></a><a href="#Footnote_172_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a> ye will be my luver so true,</div> - <div class="i1">Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi'e.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She showd me a mantle o red scarlet,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine;</div> - <div>Says, Gin ye will be my luver so true,</div> - <div class="i1">This goodly gift it sal be thine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,</div> - <div class="i1">Haud far awa, an lat me be;</div> - <div>I never will be your luver sae true,</div> - <div class="i1">An I wish I were out o your company."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk,</div> - <div class="i1">Well wrought wi pearles about the ban;</div> - <div>Says, Gin you will be my ain true love,</div> - <div class="i1">This goodly gift you sal comman.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She showd me a cup of the good red gold,</div> - <div class="i1">Well set wi jewls sae fair to see;</div> - <div>Says, Gin you will be my luver sae true,</div> - <div class="i1">This goodly gift I will you gi'e.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,</div> - <div class="i1">Haud far awa, and lat me be;</div> - <div>For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth</div> - <div class="i1">For a' the gifts that ye could gi'e."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's turnd her right and roun about,</div> - <div class="i1">An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn,</div> - <div>An she sware by the moon and the stars aboon,</div> - <div class="i1">That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then out has she taen a silver wand,</div> - <div class="i1">An she's turnd her three times roun an roun;</div> - <div>She's mutterd sich words till my strength it faild,</div> - <div class="i1">An I fell down senceless upon the groun.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's turnd me into an ugly worm,</div> - <div class="i1">And gard me writhle about the tree;</div> - <div>An ay, on ilka Saturdays night,</div> - <div class="i1">My sister Maisry came to me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wi silver bason an silver kemb,</div> - <div class="i1">To kemb my heady upon her knee;</div> - <div>But or I had kissd her ugly mouth,</div> - <div class="i1">I'd rather a writhled about the tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But as it fell out on last Hallow-even,</div> - <div class="i1">When the seely court was ridin by,</div> - <div>The queen lighted down on a gowany bank,</div> - <div class="i1">Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She took me up in her milk-white han,</div> - <div class="i1">An she's stroakd me three times oer her knee;</div> - <div>She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape,</div> - <div class="i1">An I nae mair maun writhle about the tree.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_420"><a href="#note_420">420</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SIR HUGH, OR, THE JEW'S DAUGHTER</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Four and twenty bonny boys</div> - <div class="i1">Were playing at the ba',</div> - <div>And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh,</div> - <div class="i1">And he playd o'er them a'.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He kicked the ba' with his right foot,</div> - <div class="i1">And catchd it wi' his knee,</div> - <div>And throuch-and-thro the Jew's window</div> - <div class="i1">He gard the bonny ba' flee.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's doen him to the Jew's castell,</div> - <div class="i1">And walkd it round about;</div> - <div>And there he saw the Jew's daughter,</div> - <div class="i1">At the window looking out.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Throw down the ba', ye Jew's daughter,</div> - <div class="i1">Throw down the ba' to me!"</div> - <div>"Never a bit," says the Jew's daughter,</div> - <div class="i1">"Till up to me come ye."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"How will I come up? How can I come up?</div> - <div class="i1">How can I come to thee?</div> - <div>For as ye did to my auld father</div> - <div class="i1">The same ye'll do to me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's gane till her father's garden,</div> - <div class="i1">And pu'd an apple red and green;</div> - <div>'T was a' to wyle him—sweet Sir Hugh,</div> - <div class="i1">And to entice him in.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's led him in through ae dark door,</div> - <div class="i1">And sae has she thro nine;</div> - <div>She's laid him on a dressing-table,</div> - <div class="i1">And stickit him like a swine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And first came out the thick, thick blood,</div> - <div class="i1">And syne came out the thin,</div> - <div>And syne came out the bonny heart's blood;</div> - <div class="i1">There was nae mair within.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's rowd him in a cake o' lead,</div> - <div class="i1">Bade him lie still and sleep;</div> - <div>She's thrown him in Our Lady's draw-well,</div> - <div class="i1">Was fifty fathom deep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When bells were rung, and mass was sung,</div> - <div class="i1">And a' the bairns came hame,</div> - <div>When every lady gat hame her son,</div> - <div class="i1">The Lady Maisry gat nane.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's ta'en her mantle her about,</div> - <div class="i1">Her coffer<a name="FNanchor_173_173" id="FNanchor_173_173"></a><a href="#Footnote_173_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a> by the hand,</div> - <div>And she's gane out to seek her son,</div> - <div class="i1">And wanderd o'er the land.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's doen her to the Jew's castell,</div> - <div class="i1">Where a' were fast asleep:</div> - <div>"Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,</div> - <div class="i1">I pray you to me speak."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's doen her to the Jew's garden,</div> - <div class="i1">Thought he had been gathering fruit:</div> - <div>"Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,</div> - <div class="i1">I pray you to me speak!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She neard Our Lady's deep draw-well,</div> - <div class="i1">Was fifty fathom deep:</div> - <div>"Whareer ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh,</div> - <div class="i1">I pray you to me speak."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Prepare my winding sheet,</div> - <div>And at the birks<a name="FNanchor_174_174" id="FNanchor_174_174"></a><a href="#Footnote_174_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a> o' merry Lincoln</div> - <div class="i1">The morn I will you meet."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now Lady Maisry is gane hame,</div> - <div class="i1">Made him a winding sheet,</div> - <div>And at the birks o' merry Lincoln</div> - <div class="i1">The dead corpse did her meet.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And a' the bells o' merry Lincoln</div> - <div class="i1">Without men's hands were rung,</div> - <div>And a' the books o' merry Lincoln</div> - <div class="i1">Were read without man's tongue,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When bells war rung, and mass was sung</div> - <div class="i1">And a' men bound for bed,</div> - <div>Every mither had her son,</div> - <div class="i1">But sweet Sir Hugh was dead.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_421"><a href="#note_421">421</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>EDWARD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Why does your brand so drop wi' blood,</div> - <div class="i9">Edward, Edward,</div> - <div>Why does your brand so drop wi' blood,</div> - <div class="i1">And why so sad go ye O?"</div> - <div>"O I have killed my hawk so good,</div> - <div class="i9">Mother, mother,</div> - <div>O I have killed my hawk so good,</div> - <div class="i1">And I had no more but he O."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Your hawk's blood was never so red,</div> - <div class="i9">Edward, Edward,</div> - <div>Your hawk's blood was never so red,</div> - <div class="i1">My dear son I tell thee O."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span></div> - <div>"O I have killed my red-roan steed,</div> - <div class="i9">Mother, mother,</div> - <div>O I have killed my red-roan steed,</div> - <div class="i1">That erst was so fair and free O."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Your steed was old, and ye have got more,</div> - <div class="i9">Edward, Edward,</div> - <div>Your steed was old, and ye have got more,</div> - <div class="i1">Some other grief you bear O."</div> - <div>"O I have killed my father dear,</div> - <div class="i9">Mother, mother,</div> - <div>O I have killed my father dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Alas, and woe is me O!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And what penance will ye do for that,</div> - <div class="i9">Edward, Edward?</div> - <div>And what penance will ye do for that?</div> - <div class="i1">My dear son, now tell me O."</div> - <div>"I'll set my foot in yonder boat,</div> - <div class="i9">Mother, mother,</div> - <div>I'll set my foot in yonder boat,</div> - <div class="i1">And I'll fare over the sea O."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And what will ye do wi' your towers and your hall,</div> - <div class="i9">Edward, Edward?</div> - <div>And what will ye do wi' your towers and your hall,</div> - <div class="i1">That were so fair to see O?"</div> - <div>"I'll let them stand till they down fall,</div> - <div class="i9">Mother, mother,</div> - <div>I'll let them stand till they down fall,</div> - <div class="i1">For here never more may I be O."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,</div> - <div class="i9">Edward, Edward?</div> - <div>And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,</div> - <div class="i1">When ye go over the sea O?"</div> - <div>"The world's wide, let them beg their life,</div> - <div class="i9">Mother, mother,</div> - <div>The world's wide, let them beg their life,</div> - <div class="i1">For them never more will I see O."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And what will ye leave to your own mother dear,</div> - <div class="i9">Edward, Edward?</div> - <div>And what will ye leave to your own mother dear?</div> - <div class="i1">My dear son, now tell me O."</div> - <div>"The curse of hell from me shall ye bear,</div> - <div class="i9">Mother, mother,</div> - <div>The curse of hell from me shall ye bear,</div> - <div class="i1">Such counsels ye gave to me O."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_422"><a href="#note_422">422</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LAIRD O' LOGIE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I will sing, if ye will hearken,</div> - <div class="i1">If ye will hearken unto me;</div> - <div>The King has ta'en a poor prisoner,</div> - <div class="i1">The wanton laird of Young Logie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Young Logie's laid in Edinburgh chapel,</div> - <div class="i1">Carmichael's the keeper o' the key;</div> - <div>I heard a may<a name="FNanchor_175_175" id="FNanchor_175_175"></a><a href="#Footnote_175_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a> lamenting sair</div> - <div class="i1">A' for the laird of Young Logie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Lament, lament na, May Margaret,</div> - <div class="i1">And o' your weeping let me be;</div> - <div>For ye maun to the king your sell,</div> - <div class="i1">And ask the life of Young Logie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,<a name="FNanchor_176_176" id="FNanchor_176_176"></a><a href="#Footnote_176_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a></div> - <div class="i1">And she's currlld back her yellow hair;</div> - <div>"If I canna get young Logie's life,</div> - <div class="i1">Farewell to Scotland for ever mair!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When she came before the king,</div> - <div class="i1">She knelit low doon on her knee:</div> - <div>"It's what's your will wi' me, May Margaret,</div> - <div class="i1">And what needs a' this courtesie?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"A boon, a boon, my noble liege,</div> - <div class="i1">A boon, a boon, I beg o' thee!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span></div> - <div>And the first boon that I come to crave,</div> - <div class="i1">It's to grant me the life o' Young Logie."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O na, O na, May Margaret,</div> - <div class="i1">Na, in sooth it mauna<a name="FNanchor_177_177" id="FNanchor_177_177"></a><a href="#Footnote_177_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a> be;</div> - <div>For the<a name="FNanchor_178_178" id="FNanchor_178_178"></a><a href="#Footnote_178_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a> morn, ere I taste meat or drink,</div> - <div class="i1">Hee<a name="FNanchor_179_179" id="FNanchor_179_179"></a><a href="#Footnote_179_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a> hangèd shall Young Logie be."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She has stolen the king's redding-kaim,<a name="FNanchor_180_180" id="FNanchor_180_180"></a><a href="#Footnote_180_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a></div> - <div class="i1">Likewise the queen her wedding-knife;</div> - <div>And sent the tokens to Carmichael,</div> - <div class="i1">To cause Young Logie get<a name="FNanchor_181_181" id="FNanchor_181_181"></a><a href="#Footnote_181_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a> his life.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She sent him a purse o' the red gowd,</div> - <div class="i1">Another o' the white monie;</div> - <div>And sent him a pistol into each hand,</div> - <div class="i1">And bade him shoot when he gat free.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When he came to the Tolbooth stair,</div> - <div class="i1">There he let his volley flee,</div> - <div>It made the king in his chamber start,</div> - <div class="i1">E'en in the bed where he might be.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Gae out, gae out, my merrie men a',</div> - <div class="i1">And gar Carmichael come speak wi' me,</div> - <div>For I'll lay my life the pledge o' that,</div> - <div class="i1">That yon's the volley of Young Logie."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When Carmichael came before the king,</div> - <div class="i1">He fell low down upon his knee;</div> - <div>The very first word that the king spake,</div> - <div class="i1">Was, "Where's the laird o' Young Logie?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Carmichael turn'd him round about,</div> - <div class="i1">I wat the salt tear blinded his ee,</div> - <div>"There came a token frae your grace,</div> - <div class="i1">Has ta'en the laird awa frae me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Mast thou played me that Carmichael?—</div> - <div class="i1">Hast thou played me that?" quoth he;</div> - <div>"The morn the Justice Court's to stand,</div> - <div class="i1">And Logie's place ye maun supplie."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Carmichael's awa to May Margaret's bower,</div> - <div class="i1">Even as fast as he may dree;</div> - <div>"O if Young Logie be within,</div> - <div class="i1">Tell him to come and speak with me."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>May Margaret's turn'd her round about,</div> - <div class="i1">I wat a loud laughter gae she:</div> - <div>"The egg is chipp'd, the bird is flown,</div> - <div class="i1">Ye'll see nae mair o' Young Logie."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tane<a name="FNanchor_182_182" id="FNanchor_182_182"></a><a href="#Footnote_182_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a> is shipped at the pier o' Leith,</div> - <div class="i1">T'other at the Queen's Ferrie,</div> - <div>And she's gotten a father to her bairn,</div> - <div class="i1">The wanton laird of Young Logie.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_423"><a href="#note_423">423</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FAIR ANNIE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The reivers<a name="FNanchor_183_183" id="FNanchor_183_183"></a><a href="#Footnote_183_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a> they stole Fair Annie,</div> - <div class="i1">As she walked by the sea;</div> - <div>But a noble knight was her ransom soon,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' gowd and white monie.<a name="FNanchor_184_184" id="FNanchor_184_184"></a><a href="#Footnote_184_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She bided in strangers' land wi' him,</div> - <div class="i1">And none knew whence she cam;</div> - <div>She lived in the castle wi' her love,</div> - <div class="i1">But never told her name.—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"It's narrow, narrow, mak your bed,</div> - <div class="i1">And learn to lie your lane;<a name="FNanchor_185_185" id="FNanchor_185_185"></a><a href="#Footnote_185_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a></div> - <div>For I'm gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie,</div> - <div class="i1">A braw Bride to bring hame.</div> - <div>Wi' her I will get, gowd and gear,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' you I ne'er gat nane.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But wha will bake my bridal bread,</div> - <div class="i1">Or brew my bridal ale?</div> - <div>And wha will welcome my bright Bride,</div> - <div class="i1">That I bring owre the dale?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"It's I will bake your bridal bread,</div> - <div class="i1">And brew your bridal ale;</div> - <div>And I will welcome your bright Bride,</div> - <div class="i1">That you bring owre the dale."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But she that welcomes my bright Bride</div> - <div class="i1">Maun gang like maiden fair;</div> - <div>She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,</div> - <div class="i1">And comely braid her hair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,</div> - <div class="i1">And tie it on your neck;</div> - <div>And see you look as maiden-like</div> - <div class="i1">As the day that first we met."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O how can I gang maiden-like,</div> - <div class="i1">When maiden I am nane?</div> - <div>Have I not borne six sons to thee,</div> - <div class="i1">And am wi' child again?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I'll put cooks into my kitchen,</div> - <div class="i1">And stewards in my hall,</div> - <div>And I'll have bakers for my bread,</div> - <div class="i1">And brewers for my ale;</div> - <div>But you're to welcome my bright Bride,</div> - <div class="i1">That I bring owre the dale."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Three months and a day were gane and past,</div> - <div class="i1">Fair Annie she gat word</div> - <div>That her love's ship was come at last,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' his bright young Bride aboard.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's ta'en her young son in her arms,</div> - <div class="i1">Anither in her hand;</div> - <div>And she's gane up to the highest tower,</div> - <div class="i1">Looks over sea and land.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Come doun, come doun, my mother dear,</div> - <div class="i1">Come aff the castle wa'!</div> - <div>I fear if langer ye stand there,</div> - <div class="i1">Ye'll let yoursell doun fa'."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's ta'en a cake o' the best bread,</div> - <div class="i1">A stoup o' the best wine,</div> - <div>And a' the keys upon her arm,</div> - <div class="i1">And to the yett is gane.<a name="FNanchor_186_186" id="FNanchor_186_186"></a><a href="#Footnote_186_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O ye're welcome hame, my ain gude lord,</div> - <div class="i1">To your castles and your towers;</div> - <div>Ye're welcome hame, my ain gude lord,</div> - <div class="i1">To your ha's,<a name="FNanchor_187_187" id="FNanchor_187_187"></a><a href="#Footnote_187_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a> but and your bowers.</div> - <div>And welcome to your hame, fair lady!</div> - <div class="i1">For a' that's here is yours."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O whatna lady's that, my lord,</div> - <div class="i1">That welcomes you and me?</div> - <div>Gin<a name="FNanchor_188_188" id="FNanchor_188_188"></a><a href="#Footnote_188_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a> I be lang about this place,</div> - <div class="i1">Her friend I mean to be."—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fair Annie served the lang tables</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' the white bread and the wine;</div> - <div>But ay she drank the wan water</div> - <div class="i1">To keep her colour fine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And she gaed by the first table,</div> - <div class="i1">And smiled upon them a';</div> - <div>But ere she reached the second table,</div> - <div class="i1">The tears began to fa'.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She took a napkin lang and white,</div> - <div class="i1">And hung it on a pin;</div> - <div>It was to wipe away the tears,</div> - <div class="i1">As she gaed out and in.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When bells were rung and mass was sung,</div> - <div class="i1">And a' men bound for bed,</div> - <div>The bridegroom and the bonny Bride</div> - <div class="i1">In ae<a name="FNanchor_189_189" id="FNanchor_189_189"></a><a href="#Footnote_189_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a> chamber were laid.—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Fair Annie's ta'en a harp in her hand,</div> - <div class="i1">To harp thir twa<a name="FNanchor_190_190" id="FNanchor_190_190"></a><a href="#Footnote_190_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a> asleep;</div> - <div>But ay, as she harpit and she sang,</div> - <div class="i1">Fu' sairly did she weep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O gin my sons were seven rats,</div> - <div class="i1">Rinnin' on the castle wa',</div> - <div>And I mysell a grey grey cat,</div> - <div class="i1">I soon wad worry them a'!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O gin my sons were seven hares,</div> - <div class="i1">Rinnin' owre yon lily lea,</div> - <div>And I mysell a good greyhound,</div> - <div class="i1">Soon worried they a' should be!"—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then out and spak the bonny young Bride,</div> - <div class="i1">In bride-bed where she lay:</div> - <div>"That's like my sister Annie," she says;</div> - <div class="i1">"Wha is it doth sing and play?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I'll put on my gown," said the new-come Bride</div> - <div class="i1">"And my shoes upon my feet;</div> - <div>I will see wha doth sae sadly sing,</div> - <div class="i1">And what is it gars her greet.<a name="FNanchor_191_191" id="FNanchor_191_191"></a><a href="#Footnote_191_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper,</div> - <div class="i1">That ye mak sic a mane?<a name="FNanchor_192_192" id="FNanchor_192_192"></a><a href="#Footnote_192_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a></div> - <div>Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds,</div> - <div class="i1">Or is a' your white bread gane?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"It isna because my wine is spilt,</div> - <div class="i1">Or that my white bread's gane;</div> - <div>But because I've lost my true love's love,</div> - <div class="i1">And he's wed to anither are."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Noo tell me wha was your father?" she says,</div> - <div class="i1">"Noo tell me wha was your mother?</div> - <div>And had ye ony sister?" she says,</div> - <div class="i1">"And had ye ever a brother?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The Earl of Wemyss was my father,</div> - <div class="i1">The Countess of Wemyss my mother,</div> - <div>Young Elinor she was my sister dear,</div> - <div class="i1">And Lord John he was my brother."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,</div> - <div class="i1">I wot sae was he mine;</div> - <div>And it's O my sister Annie!</div> - <div class="i1">Your love ye sallna tyne.<a name="FNanchor_193_193" id="FNanchor_193_193"></a><a href="#Footnote_193_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Tak your husband, my sister dear;</div> - <div class="i1">You ne'er were wrangd for me,</div> - <div>Beyond a kiss o' his merry mouth</div> - <div class="i1">As we cam owre the sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Seven ships, loaded weel,</div> - <div class="i1">Cam owre the sea wi' me;</div> - <div>Ane o' them will tak me hame,</div> - <div class="i1">And six I'll gie to thee."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_424">424</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HELEN OF KIRCONNELL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... I wish I were where Helen lies,</div> - <div>Night and day on me she cries;</div> - <div>O that I were where Helen lies</div> - <div class="i4">On fair Kirconnell lea!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Curst be the heart that thought the thought,</div> - <div>And curst the hand that fired the shot,</div> - <div>When in my arms burd Helen dropt,</div> - <div class="i4">And died for sake o' me!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O think na but my heart was sair</div> - <div>When my love dropt down and spak nae mair;</div> - <div>I laid her down wi' meikle care</div> - <div class="i4">On fair Kirconnell lea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I went down the water-side,</div> - <div>None but my foe to be my guide,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span></div> - <div>None but my foe to be my guide,</div> - <div class="i4">On fair Kirconnell lea;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I lighted down, my sword to draw,</div> - <div>I hackèd him in pieces sma',</div> - <div>I hackèd him in pieces sma',</div> - <div class="i4">For her that died for me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O Helen fair, beyond compare,</div> - <div>I'll make a garland of thy hair</div> - <div>Shall bind my heart for evermair,</div> - <div class="i4">Until the day I die.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O that I were where Helen lies,</div> - <div>Night and day on me she cries;</div> - <div>Out of my bed she bids me rise,</div> - <div class="i4">Says, "Haste and come to me!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!</div> - <div>If I were with thee, I were blest,</div> - <div>Where thou lies low and takes thy rest</div> - <div class="i4">On fair Kirconnell lea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I wish my grave were growing green,</div> - <div>A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,</div> - <div>And I in Helen's arms lying,</div> - <div class="i4">On fair Kirconnell lea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I wish I were where Helen lies,</div> - <div>Night and day on me she cries;</div> - <div>And I am weary of the skies,</div> - <div class="i4">Since my love died for me.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_425"><a href="#note_425">425</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE BONNIE BOWER</h4> -<p class="smcap center p-left">The Lament of the Border Widow</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My love he built me a bonnie bower,</div> - <div>And clad it a' wi' lily flower;</div> - <div>A brawer bower ye ne'er did see,</div> - <div>Than my true-love he built for me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There came a man, by middle day,</div> - <div>He spied his sport, and went away;</div> - <div>And brought the king that very night,</div> - <div>Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He slew my knight, to me sae dear;</div> - <div>He slew my knight, and poin'd his gear:<a name="FNanchor_194_194" id="FNanchor_194_194"></a><a href="#Footnote_194_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a></div> - <div>My servants all for life did flee,</div> - <div>And left me in extremitie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I sewed his sheet, making my mane;</div> - <div>I watched the corpse, mysel alane;</div> - <div>I watched his body night and day;</div> - <div>No living creature came that way.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I took his body on my back,</div> - <div>And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;</div> - <div>I digged a grave, and laid him in,</div> - <div>And happed him with the sod sae green.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But think na' ye my heart was sair,</div> - <div>When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair?</div> - <div>O, think na' ye my heart was wae,</div> - <div>When I turned about, away to gae?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Nae living man I'll love again,</div> - <div>Since that my lovely knight is slain;</div> - <div>Wi' ae lock o' his yellow hair</div> - <div>I'll chain my heart for evermair.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_426">426</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WEEP NO MORE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Weep no more, nor sigh nor groan,</div> - <div>Sorrow calls no time that's gone:</div> - <div>Violets plucked, the sweetest rain</div> - <div>Makes not fresh nor grow again;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span></div> - <div>Trim thy locks, look chearfully,</div> - <div>Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see.</div> - <div>Joys as wingèd dreams fly fast,</div> - <div>Why should sadness longer last?</div> - <div>Grief is but a wound to woe;</div> - <div>Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.<a name="FNanchor_195_195" id="FNanchor_195_195"></a><a href="#Footnote_195_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a></div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Fletcher</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_427"><a href="#note_427">427</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE TWA SISTERS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There were twa sisters sat in a bowr;</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Binnorie, O Binnorie</i>:</div> - <div>There came a knight to be their wooer</div> - <div class="i1"><i>By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He courted the eldest wi' glove an ring,</div> - <div>But he lov'd the youngest above a' thing.<a name="FNanchor_196_196" id="FNanchor_196_196"></a><a href="#Footnote_196_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He courted the eldest wi' brotch an knife,</div> - <div>But lov'd the youngest as his life.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The eldest she was vexed sair,</div> - <div>An' much envi'd her sister fair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Into<a name="FNanchor_197_197" id="FNanchor_197_197"></a><a href="#Footnote_197_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a> her bow'r she could not rest,</div> - <div>Wi' grief an spite she almos brast.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Upon a morning fair an' clear,</div> - <div>She cried upon her sister dear:—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O sister, come to yon sea stran,</div> - <div>An see our father's ships come to lan."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She's ta'en her by the milk-white han,</div> - <div>An led her down to yon sea stran.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The youngest stood upon a stane,</div> - <div>The eldest came an threw her in.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She tooke her by the middle sma,'</div> - <div>An dashed her bonny back to the jaw.<a name="FNanchor_198_198" id="FNanchor_198_198"></a><a href="#Footnote_198_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O sister, sister, tak my han,</div> - <div>And Ise mack<a name="FNanchor_199_199" id="FNanchor_199_199"></a><a href="#Footnote_199_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a> you heir to a' my lan.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O sister, sister, tak my middle,</div> - <div>An yes get<a name="FNanchor_200_200" id="FNanchor_200_200"></a><a href="#Footnote_200_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a> my goud and my gouden girdle.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O sister, sister, save my life,</div> - <div>An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Foul fa' the han that I should tacke,</div> - <div>It twin'd me an my wardles make.<a name="FNanchor_201_201" id="FNanchor_201_201"></a><a href="#Footnote_201_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair</div> - <div>Gars me gae maiden for evermair."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,</div> - <div>Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O out it came the miller's son,</div> - <div>An' saw the fair maid swimmin in.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O father, father, draw your dam,</div> - <div>Here's either a mermaid or a swan."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The miller quickly drew the dam,</div> - <div>An there he found a drown'd woman.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>You coudna see her yallow hair</div> - <div>For gold and pearle that were so rare.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>You coudna see her middle sma'</div> - <div>For gouden girdle that was sae braw.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>You coudna see her fingers white,</div> - <div>For gouden rings that was sae gryte.<a name="FNanchor_202_202" id="FNanchor_202_202"></a><a href="#Footnote_202_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>An by there came a harper fine,</div> - <div>That harped to the king at dine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When he did look that lady upon,</div> - <div>He sigh'd and made a heavy moan.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's taen three locks o' her yallow hair,</div> - <div>An wi' them strung his harp sae fair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The first tune he did play and sing,</div> - <div>Was, "Farewell to my father the king."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The nextin tune that he play'd syne,</div> - <div>Was, "Farewell to my mother the queen."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The lastin tune that he play'd then,</div> - <div>Was, "Wae to my sister, fair Ellen."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_428"><a href="#note_428">428</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SWEET WILLIAM AND MAY MARGARET</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There came a ghost to Margret's door,</div> - <div class="i1">With many a grievous groan;</div> - <div>And aye he tirlèd at the pin,</div> - <div class="i1">But answer made she none....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Is that my father Philip?</div> - <div class="i1">Or is't my brother John?</div> - <div>Or is't my true-love Willie,</div> - <div class="i1">From Scotland new come home?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>'Tis not thy father Philip,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor yet thy brother John,</div> - <div>But' tis thy true-love Willie,</div> - <div class="i1">From Scotland new come home.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,</div> - <div class="i1">I pray thee speak to me;</div> - <div>Give me my faith and troth, Margret,</div> - <div class="i1">As I gave it to thee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Thy faith and troth thou's never get,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor yet will I thee lend,</div> - <div>Till that thou come within my bower</div> - <div class="i1">And kiss me cheek and chin."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"If I shou'd come within thy bower,</div> - <div class="i1">I am no earthly man;</div> - <div>And shou'd I kiss thy ruby lips,</div> - <div class="i1">Thy days would not be lang.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,</div> - <div class="i1">I pray thee speak to me;</div> - <div>Give me my faith and troth, Margret,</div> - <div class="i1">As I gave it to thee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Thy faith and troth thou's never get,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor yet will I thee lend,</div> - <div>Till thou take me to yon kirk-yard,</div> - <div class="i1">And wed me with a ring."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard</div> - <div class="i1">Afar beyond the sea;</div> - <div>And it is but my spirit, Margret,</div> - <div class="i1">That's now speaking to thee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She stretched out her lily-white hand,</div> - <div class="i1">And, for to do her best:</div> - <div>"Hae, there's your faith and troth, Willie;</div> - <div class="i1">God send your soul good rest."...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now she has kilted her robes o' green</div> - <div class="i1">A piece below her knee,</div> - <div>And a' the live-lang winter night</div> - <div class="i1">The dead corp followed she.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Is there any room at your head, Willie,</div> - <div class="i1">Or any room at your feet?</div> - <div>Or any room at your side, Willie,</div> - <div class="i1">Wherein that I may creep?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"There's nae room at my head, Margret,</div> - <div class="i1">There's nae room at my feet;</div> - <div>There's nae room at my side, Margret,</div> - <div class="i1">My coffin's made so meet."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then up and crew the red, red cock,</div> - <div class="i1">And up and crew the grey;</div> - <div>"'Tis time, 'tis time, my dear Margret,</div> - <div class="i1">That you were gane awa'."</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_429"><a href="#note_429">429</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There lived a wife at Usher's Well</div> - <div class="i1">And a wealthy wife was she;</div> - <div>She had three stout and stalwart sons,</div> - <div class="i1">And sent them o'er the sea.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They hadna been a week from her,</div> - <div class="i1">A week but barely ane,</div> - <div>Whan word came to the carline wife</div> - <div class="i1">That her three sons were gane.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They hadna been a week from her,</div> - <div class="i1">A week but barely three,</div> - <div>Whan word came to the carline wife</div> - <div class="i1">That her sons she'd never see.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I wish the wind may never cease,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor fashes in the flood,</div> - <div>Till my three sons come hame to me,</div> - <div class="i1">In earthly flesh and blood."—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It fell about the Martinmass,</div> - <div class="i1">When nights are lang and mirk,</div> - <div>The carline wife's three sons came hame,</div> - <div class="i1">And their hats were o the birk.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It neither grew in syke nor ditch,</div> - <div class="i1">Nor yet in ony sheugh;</div> - <div>But at the gates o' Paradise</div> - <div class="i1">That birk grew fair eneugh....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Blow up the fire, my maidens,</div> - <div class="i1">Bring water from the well;</div> - <div>For a' my house shall feast this night</div> - <div class="i1">Since my three sons are well."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And she has made to them a bed,</div> - <div class="i1">She's made it large and wide;</div> - <div>And she's ta'en her mantle her about,</div> - <div class="i1">Sat down at the bedside.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Lie still, lie still but a little wee while,</div> - <div class="i1">Lie still but if we may;</div> - <div>Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes</div> - <div class="i1">She'll go mad ere it be day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Our mother has nae mair but us;</div> - <div class="i1">See where she leans asleep;</div> - <div>The mantle that was on herself,</div> - <div class="i1">She has happ'd it round our feet."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Up then crew the red, red cock,</div> - <div class="i1">And up and crew the grey;</div> - <div>The eldest to the youngest said,</div> - <div class="i1">"'Tis time we were away!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The cock he hadna crawed but once,</div> - <div class="i1">And clapped his wings at a',</div> - <div>When the youngest to the eldest said,</div> - <div class="i1">"Brother, we must awa'.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,</div> - <div class="i1">The channerin worm doth chide;</div> - <div>Gin we be mist out o' our place,</div> - <div class="i1">A sair pain we maun bide.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Fare ye weel, my mother dear!</div> - <div class="i1">Fareweel to barn and byre!</div> - <div>And fare ye weel, the bonny lass</div> - <div class="i1">That kindles my mother's fire!"</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_447" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_447.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>EVENING AND DREAM</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_430">430</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>DREAM-PEDLARY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If there were dreams to sell,</div> - <div class="i2">What would you buy?</div> - <div>Some cost a passing bell;</div> - <div class="i2">Some a light sigh,</div> - <div>That shakes from Life's fresh crown</div> - <div>Only a rose-leaf down.</div> - <div>If there were dreams to sell,</div> - <div>Merry and sad to tell,</div> - <div>And the crier rang the bell,</div> - <div class="i2">What would you buy?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A cottage lone and still,</div> - <div class="i2">With bowers nigh,</div> - <div>Shadowy, my woes to still,</div> - <div class="i2">Until I die.</div> - <div>Such peace from Life's fresh crown</div> - <div>Fain would I shake me down.</div> - <div>Were dreams to have at will,</div> - <div>This would best heal my ill,</div> - <div class="i2">This would I buy.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Thomas Lovell Beddoes</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_431">431</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE EVENING SUN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The evening sun was sinking down</div> - <div class="i1">On low green hills and clustered trees;</div> - <div>It was a scene as fair and lone</div> - <div class="i1">As ever felt the soothing breeze<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>That cools the grass when day is gone,</div> - <div class="i1">And gives the waves a brighter blue,</div> - <div>And makes the soft white clouds sail on—</div> - <div class="i1">Like spirits of ethereal dew</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Which all the morn had hovered o'er</div> - <div class="i1">The azure flowers, where they were nursed,</div> - <div>And now return to Heaven once more,</div> - <div class="i1">Where their bright glories shone at first.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Emily Brontë</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_432">432</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TO THE EVENING STAR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thou Fair-haired Angel of the Evening,</div> - <div>Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light</div> - <div>Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown</div> - <div>Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!</div> - <div>Smile on our loves; and while thou drawest the</div> - <div>Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew</div> - <div>On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes</div> - <div>In timely sleep. Let thy West Wind sleep on</div> - <div>The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,</div> - <div>And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,</div> - <div>Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,</div> - <div>And the lion glares through the dun forest:</div> - <div>The fleeces of the flocks are covered with</div> - <div>Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_433"><a href="#note_433">433</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night</div> - <div class="i1">Hath not as yet begun</div> - <div>To make a seisure on the light,</div> - <div class="i1">Or to seale up the Sun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No Marigolds yet closèd are;</div> - <div class="i1">No shadowes great appeare:</div> - <div>Nor doth the early Shepheard's Starre</div> - <div class="i1">Shine like a spangle here.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Stay but till my <i>Julia</i> close</div> - <div class="i1">Her life-begetting eye;</div> - <div>And let the whole world then dispose</div> - <div class="i1">It selfe to live or dye.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Robert Herrick</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_434"><a href="#note_434">434</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OF THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">What, hast thou run thy Race? Art going down?</div> - <div>Thou seemest angry, why dost on us frown?</div> - <div>Yea wrap thy head with Clouds, and hide thy face,</div> - <div>As threatning to withdraw from us thy Grace?</div> - <div>Oh leave us not! When once thou hid'st thy head,</div> - <div>Our Hórizon with darkness will be spread.</div> - <div>Tell's, who hath thee offended? Turn again:</div> - <div>Alas! too late—Entreaties are in vain!...</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Bunyan</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_435">435</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>VIRTUE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright</div> - <div class="i1">The bridal of the earth and skie:</div> - <div>The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,</div> - <div class="i8">For thou must die.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave</div> - <div class="i1">Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,</div> - <div>Thy root is ever in its grave,</div> - <div class="i8">And thou must die.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,</div> - <div class="i1">A box where sweets compacted lie,</div> - <div>My music shows ye have your closes,</div> - <div class="i8">And all must die.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Only a sweet and vertuous soul,</div> - <div class="i1">Like seasoned timber, never gives;</div> - <div>But though the whole world turn to coal,</div> - <div class="i8">Then chiefly lives.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">George Herbert</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_436">436</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>NIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The sun descending in the west,</div> - <div>The evening star does shine;</div> - <div>The birds are silent in their nest,</div> - <div>And I must seek for mine.</div> - <div class="i1">The moon, like a flower,</div> - <div class="i1">In heaven's high bower,</div> - <div class="i1">With silent delight</div> - <div class="i1">Sits and smiles on the night.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Farewell green fields and happy groves,</div> - <div>Where flocks have took delight.</div> - <div>Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves</div> - <div>The feet of angels bright;</div> - <div class="i1">Unseen they pour blessing,</div> - <div class="i1">And joy without ceasing,</div> - <div class="i1">On each bud and blossom,</div> - <div class="i1">And each sleeping bosom.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They look in every thoughtless nest,</div> - <div>Where birds are covered warm;</div> - <div>They visit caves of every beast,</div> - <div>To keep them all from harm.</div> - <div class="i1">If they see any weeping,</div> - <div class="i1">That should have been sleeping,</div> - <div class="i1">They pour sleep on their head,</div> - <div class="i1">And sit down by their bed.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When wolves and tygers howl for prey,</div> - <div>They pitying stand and weep;</div> - <div>Seeking to drive their thirst away,</div> - <div>And keep them from the sheep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">But if they rush dreadful,</div> - <div class="i1">The angels, most heedful,</div> - <div class="i1">Receive each mild spirit,</div> - <div class="i1">New worlds to inherit.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And there the lion's ruddy eyes</div> - <div>Shall flow with tears of gold,</div> - <div>And pitying the tender cries,</div> - <div>And walking round the fold,</div> - <div class="i1">Saying, "Wrath, by his meekness,</div> - <div class="i1">And, by his health, sickness</div> - <div class="i1">Is driven away</div> - <div class="i1">From our immortal day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"And now beside thee, bleating lamb,</div> - <div>I can lie down and sleep;</div> - <div>Or think on Him who bore thy name,</div> - <div>Graze after thee and weep.</div> - <div class="i1">For, washed in life's river,</div> - <div class="i1">My bright mane for ever</div> - <div class="i1">Shall shine like the gold,</div> - <div class="i1">As I guard o'er the fold."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_437"><a href="#note_437">437</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>NURSE'S SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the voices of children are heard on the green,</div> - <div>And laughing is heard on the hill,</div> - <div>My heart is at rest within my breast,</div> - <div>And everything else is still.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,</div> - <div>And the dews of night arise;</div> - <div>Come, come, leave off play, and let us away</div> - <div>Till the morning appears in the skies."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,</div> - <div>And we cannot go to sleep;</div> - <div>Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,</div> - <div>And the hills are all covered with sheep."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,</div> - <div>And then go home to bed."</div> - <div>The little ones leapèd and shouted and laughed</div> - <div>And all the hills echoèd.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_438">438</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE EVENING PRIMROSE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When once the sun sinks in the west,</div> - <div>And dew-drops pearl the evening's breast;</div> - <div>Almost as pale as moonbeams are,</div> - <div>Or its companionable star,</div> - <div>The evening primrose opes anew</div> - <div>Its delicate blossoms to the dew;</div> - <div>And, shunning hermit of the light,</div> - <div>Wastes its fair bloom upon the night;</div> - <div>Who, blindfold to its fond caresses,</div> - <div>Knows not the beauty he possesses.</div> - <div>Thus it blooms on till night is bye</div> - <div>And day looks out with open eye,</div> - <div>Abashed at the gaze it cannot shun,</div> - <div>It faints and withers, and is done.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Emily Brontë</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_439">439</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"TIME, YOU OLD GIPSY MAN"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Time, you old gipsy man,</div> - <div>Will you not stay,</div> - <div>Put up your caravan</div> - <div>Just for one day?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All things I'll give you</div> - <div>Will you be my guest,</div> - <div>Bells for your jennet</div> - <div>Of silver the best,</div> - <div>Goldsmiths shall beat you</div> - <div>A great golden ring</div> - <div>Peacocks shall bow to you,</div> - <div>Little boys sing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</a></span></div> - <div>Oh, and sweet girls will</div> - <div>Festoon you with may.</div> - <div>Time, you old gipsy,</div> - <div>Why hasten away?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Last week in Babylon,</div> - <div>Last night in Rome,</div> - <div>Morning, and in the crush</div> - <div>Under Paul's dome;</div> - <div>Under Paul's dial</div> - <div>You tighten your rein—</div> - <div>Only a moment,</div> - <div>And off once again;</div> - <div>Off to some city</div> - <div>Now blind in the womb,</div> - <div>Off to another</div> - <div>Ere that's in the tomb.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Time, you old gipsy man,</div> - <div>Will you not stay,</div> - <div>Put up your caravan</div> - <div>Just for one day?</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Ralph Hodgson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_440"><a href="#note_440">440</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AFTERWARDS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">"He was a man who used to notice such things"?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">"To him this must have been a familiar sight."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</a></span></div> - <div class="hangingindent">One may say, "He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">But he could do little for them; and now he is gone."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">"He was one who had an eye for such mysteries"?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom,</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">"He hears it not now, but used to notice such things"?</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">Thomas Hardy</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_441"><a href="#note_441">441</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>STEPPING WESTWARD</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"What, you are stepping westward?"—"Yea."</div> - <div>—'Twould be a wildish destiny,</div> - <div>If we, who thus together roam</div> - <div>In a strange land, and far from home,</div> - <div>Were in this place the guests of chance;</div> - <div>Yet who would stop, or fear to advance,</div> - <div>Though home or shelter he had none,</div> - <div>With such a sky to lead him on?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The dewy ground was dark and cold;</div> - <div>Behind, all gloomy to behold;</div> - <div>And stepping westward seemed to be</div> - <div>A kind of heavenly destiny;</div> - <div>I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound</div> - <div>Of something without place or bound;</div> - <div>And seemed to give me spiritual right</div> - <div>To travel through that region bright.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The voice was soft, and she who spake</div> - <div>Was walking by her native lake;</div> - <div>The salutation had to me</div> - <div>The very sound of courtesy;</div> - <div>Its power was felt; and while my eye</div> - <div>Was fixed upon the glowing sky,</div> - <div>The echo of the voice enwrought</div> - <div>A human sweetness with the thought</div> - <div>Of travelling through the world that lay</div> - <div>Before me in my endless way.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Wordsworth</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_442"><a href="#note_442">442</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FOLDING THE FLOCKS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Shepherds all, and Maidens fair,</div> - <div>Fold your Flocks up; for the Air</div> - <div>'Gins to thicken, and the Sun</div> - <div>Already his great course hath run.</div> - <div>See the Dew-drops how they kiss</div> - <div>Every little Flower that is:</div> - <div>Hanging on their Velvet Heads,</div> - <div>Like a Rope of Cristal Beads.</div> - <div>See the heavy Clouds low falling,</div> - <div>And bright <i>Hesperus</i> down calling</div> - <div>The dead Night from under Ground,</div> - <div>At whose rising, Mists unsound,</div> - <div>Damps and Vapours fly apace,</div> - <div>Hov'ring o'er the smiling Face</div> - <div>Of these Pastures, where they come,</div> - <div>Striking dead both Bud and Bloom;</div> - <div>Therefore, from such Danger, lock</div> - <div>Ev'ry one of his lovèd Flock;</div> - <div>And let your Dogs lie loose without,</div> - <div>Lest the Wolf come as a scout</div> - <div>From the Mountain, and, ere day,</div> - <div>Bear a Lamb or Kid away;</div> - <div>Or the crafty, thievish Fox</div> - <div>Break upon your simple Flocks:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To secure yourself from these</div> - <div>Be not too secure in ease;</div> - <div>Let one Eye his watches keep,</div> - <div>While the other Eye doth sleep;</div> - <div>So shall you good Shepherds prove,</div> - <div>And deserve your Master's love.</div> - <div>Now, good night! may Sweetest Slumbers</div> - <div>And soft Silence fall in numbers</div> - <div>On your Eye-lids: So, farewell;</div> - <div>Thus I end my Evening knell.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">John Fletcher</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_443">443</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>TO THE NIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,</div> - <div>Spirit of Night!</div> - <div>Out of the misty eastern cave,</div> - <div>Where, all the long and lone daylight,</div> - <div>Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,</div> - <div>Which make thee terrible and dear,—</div> - <div>Swift be thy flight!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wrap thy form in a mantle grey</div> - <div>Star-inwrought;</div> - <div>Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day,</div> - <div>Kiss her until she be wearied out:</div> - <div>Then wander o'er city and sea and land,</div> - <div>Touching all with thine opiate wand—</div> - <div>Come, long-sought!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When I arose and saw the dawn</div> - <div>I sighed for thee;</div> - <div>When light rode high, and the dew was gone,</div> - <div>And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,</div> - <div>And the weary Day turned to his rest,</div> - <div>Lingering like an unloved guest,</div> - <div>I sighed for thee.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[459]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thy brother Death came, and cried</div> - <div>Wouldst thou me?</div> - <div>Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,</div> - <div>Murmured like a noon-tide bee,</div> - <div>Shall I nestle near thy side?</div> - <div>Wouldst thou me?—And I replied</div> - <div>No, not thee!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Death will come when thou art dead,</div> - <div>Soon, too soon—</div> - <div>Sleep will come when thou art fled;</div> - <div>Of neither would I ask the boon</div> - <div>I ask of thee, belovèd Night—</div> - <div>Swift be thine approaching flight,</div> - <div>Come soon, soon!</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_444"><a href="#note_444">444</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LIGHT THE LAMPS UP, LAMPLIGHTER!</h4> -<p class="smcap center p-left">(For a Lamplighter, a Grandmother, the Angel Gabriel, and Any -Number of Others)</p> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Light the lamps up, Lamplighter,</div> - <div>The people are in the street—</div> - <div class="i4">Without a light</div> - <div class="i4">They have no sight,</div> - <div>And where will they plant their feet?</div> - <div>Some will tread in the gutter,</div> - <div>And some in the mud—oh dear!</div> - <div>Light the lamps up, Lamplighter,</div> - <div>Because the night is here.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Light the candles, Grandmother,</div> - <div>The children are going to bed—</div> - <div class="i4">Without a wick</div> - <div class="i4">They'll stumble and stick,</div> - <div>And where will they lay their head?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</a></span></div> - <div>Some will lie on the staircase,</div> - <div>And some in the hearth—oh dear!</div> - <div>Light the candles, Grandmother,</div> - <div>Because the night is here.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Light the stars up, Gabriel,</div> - <div>The cherubs are out to fly—</div> - <div class="i4">If heaven is blind</div> - <div class="i4">How will they find</div> - <div>Their way across the sky?</div> - <div>Some will splash in the Milky Way,</div> - <div>Or bump on the moon—oh dear!</div> - <div>Light the stars up, Gabriel,</div> - <div>Because the night is here.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Eleanor Farjeon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_445">445</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WILL YOU COME?</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Will you come?</div> - <div>Will you come?</div> - <div>Will you ride</div> - <div>So late</div> - <div>At my side?</div> - <div>O, will you come?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Will you come?</div> - <div>Will you come</div> - <div>If the night</div> - <div>Has a moon,</div> - <div>Full and bright?</div> - <div>O, will you come?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Would you come?</div> - <div>Would you come</div> - <div>If the noon</div> - <div>Gave light,</div> - <div>Not the moon?</div> - <div>Beautiful, would you come?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Would you have come?</div> - <div>Would you have come</div> - <div>Without scorning,</div> - <div>Had it been</div> - <div>Still morning?</div> - <div>Beloved, would you have come?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If you come</div> - <div>Haste and come.</div> - <div>Owls have cried;</div> - <div>It grows dark</div> - <div>To ride.</div> - <div>Beloved, beautiful, come!</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Edward Thomas</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_446">446</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>COME!</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wull ye come in eärly Spring,</div> - <div>Come at Easter, or in Mäy?</div> - <div>Or when Whitsuntide mid bring</div> - <div>Longer light to show your wäy?</div> - <div>Wull ye come, if you be true,</div> - <div>Vor to quicken love anew?</div> - <div>Wull ye call in Spring or Fall?</div> - <div>Come now soon by zun or moon?</div> - <div class="i6">Wull ye come?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Come wi' väice to väice the while</div> - <div>All their words be sweet to hear;</div> - <div>Come that feäce to feäce mid smile,</div> - <div>While their smiles do seem so dear;</div> - <div>Come within the year to seek</div> - <div>Woone you have sought woonce a week?</div> - <div>Come while flow'rs be on the bow'rs,</div> - <div>And the bird o' songs a-heärd.</div> - <div class="i6">Wull ye come?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ees come <i>to</i> ye, an' come <i>vor</i> ye, is my word,</div> - <div class="i6">I wull come.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Barnes</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_447">447</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>HYMN TO DIANA</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,</div> - <div class="i1">Now the sun is laid to sleep,</div> - <div>Seated in thy silver chair,</div> - <div class="i1">State in wonted manner keep;</div> - <div class="i2">Hesperus entreats thy light,</div> - <div class="i2">Goddess excellently bright.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Earth, let not thy envious shade</div> - <div class="i1">Dare itself to interpose;</div> - <div>Cynthia's shining orb was made</div> - <div class="i1">Heaven to clear when day did close:</div> - <div class="i2">Bless us then with wishèd sight,</div> - <div class="i2">Goddess excellently bright.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lay thy bow of pearl apart,</div> - <div class="i1">And thy crystal shining quiver;</div> - <div>Give unto the flying hart</div> - <div class="i1">Space to breathe, how short soever:</div> - <div class="i2">Thou that mak'st a day of night,</div> - <div class="i2">Goddess excellently bright.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Ben Jonson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_448">448</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE CLOUDS HAVE LEFT THE SKY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The clouds have left the sky,</div> - <div>The wind hath left the sea,</div> - <div>The half-moon up on high</div> - <div>Shrinketh her face of dree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She lightens on the comb</div> - <div>Of leaden waves, that roar</div> - <div>And thrust their hurried foam</div> - <div>Up on the dusky shore.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Behind the western bars</div> - <div>The shrouded day retreats,</div> - <div>And unperceived the stars</div> - <div>Steal to their sovran seats.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And whiter grows the foam,</div> - <div>The small moon lightens more;</div> - <div>And as I turn me home,</div> - <div>My shadow walks before.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Robert Bridges</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_449"><a href="#note_449">449</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WITH HOW SAD STEPS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!</div> - <div>How silently, and with how wan a face!</div> - <div>What! may it be that even in heavenly place</div> - <div>That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?</div> - <div>Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes</div> - <div>Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:</div> - <div>I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace</div> - <div>To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,</div> - <div>Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?</div> - <div>Are beauties there as proud as here they be?</div> - <div>Do they above love to be loved, and yet</div> - <div>Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?</div> - <div>Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Sir Philip Sidney</div> - </div> - - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_450"><a href="#note_450">450</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>IN DISPRAISE OF THE MOON</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I would not be the Moon, the sickly thing,</div> - <div>To summon owls and bats upon the wing;</div> - <div>For when the noble Sun is gone away,</div> - <div>She turns his night into a pallid day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She hath no air, no radiance of her own,</div> - <div>That world unmusical of earth and stone.</div> - <div>She wakes her dim, uncoloured, voiceless hosts,</div> - <div>Ghost of the Sun, herself the sun of ghosts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[464]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The mortal eyes that gaze too long on her</div> - <div>Of Reason's piercing ray defrauded are.</div> - <div>Light in itself doth feed the living brain;</div> - <div>That light, reflected, but makes darkness plain.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Mary Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_451">451</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE WANING MOON</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And like a dying lady, lean and pale,</div> - <div>Who totters forth, wrapt in a gauzy veil,</div> - <div>Out of her chamber, led by the insane</div> - <div>And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,</div> - <div>The moon arose up in the murky east,</div> - <div>A white and shapeless mass.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_452">452</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>WE'LL GO NO MORE A-ROVING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So, we'll go no more a-roving</div> - <div class="i1">So late into the night,</div> - <div>Though the heart be still as loving,</div> - <div class="i1">And the moon be still as bright.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For the sword outwears its sheath,</div> - <div class="i1">And the soul wears out the breast,</div> - <div>And the heart must pause to breathe,</div> - <div class="i1">And love itself have rest.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though the night was made for loving,</div> - <div class="i1">And the day returns too soon,</div> - <div>Yet we'll go no more a-roving</div> - <div class="i1">By the light of the moon.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">George Gordon, Lord Byron</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_453">453</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG OF THE NIGHT AT DAYBREAK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All my stars forsake me,</div> - <div>And the dawn-winds shake me.</div> - <div>Where shall I betake me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Whither shall I run</div> - <div>Till the set of sun,</div> - <div>Till the day be done?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To the mountain-mine,</div> - <div>To the boughs o' the pine,</div> - <div>To the blind man's eyne,</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To a brow that is</div> - <div>Bowed upon the knees,</div> - <div>Sick with memories.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Alice Meynell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_454">454</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE NIGHT WILL NEVER STAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The night will never stay,</div> - <div>The night will still go by,</div> - <div>Though with a million stars</div> - <div>You pin it to the sky;</div> - <div>Though you bind it with the blowing wind</div> - <div>And buckle it with the moon,</div> - <div>The night will slip away</div> - <div>Like sorrow or a tune.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Eleanor Farjeon</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_455"><a href="#note_455">455</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LINES FOR A BED AT KELMSCOTT MANOR</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The wind's on the wold</div> - <div>And the night is a-cold,</div> - <div>And Thames runs chill</div> - <div>Twixt mead and hill,</div> - <div>But kind and dear</div> - <div>Is the old house here,</div> - <div>And my heart is warm</div> - <div>Midst winter's harm.</div> - <div>Rest then and rest,</div> - <div>And think of the best</div> - <div>Twixt summer and spring</div> - <div>When all birds sing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</a></span></div> - <div>In the town of the tree,</div> - <div>And ye lie in me</div> - <div>And scarce dare move</div> - <div>Lest earth and its love</div> - <div>Should fade away</div> - <div>Ere the full of the day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I am old and have seen</div> - <div>Many things that have been,</div> - <div>Both grief and peace,</div> - <div>And wane and increase.</div> - <div>No tale I tell</div> - <div>Of ill or well,</div> - <div>But this I say,</div> - <div>Night treadeth on day,</div> - <div>And for worst and best</div> - <div>Right good is rest."</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">William Morris</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_456">456</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ROCK, BALL, FIDDLE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He that lies at the stock,</div> - <div>Shall have the gold rock;</div> - <div>He that lies at the wall,</div> - <div>Shall have the gold ball;</div> - <div>He that lies in the middle,</div> - <div>Shall have the gold fiddle.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_457"><a href="#note_457">457</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BEFORE SLEEPING</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,</div> - <div>Bless the bed that I lie on.</div> - <div>Before I lay me down to sleep</div> - <div>I give my soul to Christ to keep.</div> - <div>Four corners to my bed,</div> - <div>Four angels there aspread,</div> - <div>Two to foot, and two to head,</div> - <div>And four to carry me when I'm dead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I go by sea, I go by land,</div> - <div>The Lord made me with His right hand.</div> - <div>If any danger come to me,</div> - <div>Sweet Jesus Christ deliver me.</div> - <div>He's the branch and I'm the flower,</div> - <div>Pray God send me a happy hour,</div> - <div>And if I die before I wake,</div> - <div>I pray that Christ my soul will take.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_458">458</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ON A QUIET CONSCIENCE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Close thine eyes, and sleep secure;</div> - <div class="i2">Thy soul is safe, thy body sure.</div> - <div class="i2">He that guards thee, he that keeps,</div> - <div class="i2">Never slumbers, never sleeps.</div> - <div class="i2">A quiet conscience in the breast</div> - <div class="i2">Has only peace, has only rest.</div> - <div class="i2">The wisest and the mirth of kings</div> - <div class="i2">Are out of tune unless she sings:</div> - <div>Then close thine eyes in peace and sleep secure,</div> - <div>No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Charles I.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_459"><a href="#note_459">459</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>SONG</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>While Morpheus thus does gently lay</div> - <div class="i1">His powerful charge upon each part</div> - <div>Making thy spirits even obey</div> - <div class="i1">The silver charms of his dull art;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I, thy Good Angel, from thy side,—</div> - <div class="i1">As smoke doth from the altar rise,</div> - <div>Making no noise as it doth glide,—</div> - <div class="i1">Will leave thee in this soft surprise;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And from the clouds will fetch thee down</div> - <div class="i1">A holy vision, to express</div> - <div>Thy right unto an earthly crown;</div> - <div class="i1">No power can make this kingdom less.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But gently, gently, lest I bring</div> - <div class="i1">A start in sleep by sudden flight,</div> - <div>Playing aloof, and hovering,</div> - <div class="i1">Till I am lost unto the sight.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This is a motion still and soft;</div> - <div class="i1">So free from noise and cry,</div> - <div>That Jove himself, who hears a thought,</div> - <div class="i1">Knows not when we pass by.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Henry Killigrew</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_460"><a href="#note_460">460</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE EVE OF SAINT MARK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Upon a Sabbath-day it fell;</div> - <div>Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell,</div> - <div>That called the folk to evening prayer;</div> - <div>The city streets were clean and fair</div> - <div>From wholesome drench of April rains;</div> - <div>And, on the western window panes,</div> - <div>The chilly sunset faintly told</div> - <div>Of unmatured green vallies cold,</div> - <div>Of the green thorny bloomless hedge,</div> - <div>Of rivers new with spring-tide sedge,</div> - <div>Of primroses by sheltered rills,</div> - <div>And daisies on the aguish hills.</div> - <div>Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell:</div> - <div>The silent streets were crowded well</div> - <div>With staid and pious companies,</div> - <div>Warm from their fire-side oratories;</div> - <div>And moving, with demurest air,</div> - <div>To even-song, and vesper-prayer.</div> - <div>Each archèd porch, and entry low,</div> - <div>Was filled with patient folk and slow,</div> - <div>With whispers hush, and shuffling feet,</div> - <div>While played the organ loud and sweet.</div> - <div>The bells had ceased, the prayers begun,</div> - <div>And Bertha had not yet half done<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A curious volume, patched and torn,</div> - <div>That all day long, from earliest morn,</div> - <div>Had taken captive her two eyes,</div> - <div>Among its golden broideries;</div> - <div>Perplexed her with a thousand things,—</div> - <div>The stars of Heaven, and angels' wings,</div> - <div>Martyrs in a fiery blaze,</div> - <div>Azure saints in silver rays,</div> - <div>Moses' breastplate, and the seven</div> - <div>Candlesticks John saw in Heaven,</div> - <div>The winged Lion of Saint Mark,</div> - <div>And the Covenantal Ark,</div> - <div>With its many mysteries,</div> - <div>Cherubim and golden mice.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bertha was a maiden fair,</div> - <div>Dwelling in the old Minster-square;</div> - <div>From her fire-side she could see,</div> - <div>Sidelong, its rich antiquity,</div> - <div>Far as the Bishop's garden-wall;</div> - <div>Where sycamores and elm-trees tall,</div> - <div>Full-leaved, the forest had outstript,</div> - <div>By no sharp north-wind ever nipt,</div> - <div>So sheltered by the mighty pile,</div> - <div>Bertha arose, and read awhile,</div> - <div>With forehead 'gainst the window-pane,</div> - <div>Again she tryed, and then again,</div> - <div>Until the dusk eve left her dark</div> - <div>Upon the legend of St. Mark.</div> - <div>From plaited lawn-frill, fine and thin,</div> - <div>She lifted up her soft warm chin,</div> - <div>With aching neck and swimming eyes,</div> - <div>And dazed with saintly imageries.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All was gloom, and silent all,</div> - <div>Save now and then the still foot-fall</div> - <div>Of one returning homewards late,</div> - <div>Past the echoing minster-gate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[470]</a></span></div> - <div>The clamorous daws, that all the day</div> - <div>Above tree-tops and towers play,</div> - <div>Pair by pair had gone to rest,</div> - <div>Each in its ancient belfry-nest,</div> - <div>Where asleep they fall betimes,</div> - <div>To music of the drowsy chimes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All was silent, all was gloom,</div> - <div>Abroad and in the homely room:</div> - <div>Down she sat, poor cheated soul!</div> - <div>And struck a lamp from the dismal coal;</div> - <div>Leaned forward, with bright drooping hair</div> - <div>And slant book, full against the glare.</div> - <div>Her shadow, in uneasy guise,</div> - <div>Hovered about, a giant size,</div> - <div>On ceiling-beam and old oak chair,</div> - <div>The parrot's cage, and panel square;</div> - <div>And the warm angled winter screen,</div> - <div>On which were many monsters seen,</div> - <div>Called doves of Siam, Lima mice,</div> - <div>And legless birds of Paradise,</div> - <div>Macaw, and tender Avadavat,</div> - <div>And silken-furred Angora cat.</div> - <div>Untired she read, her shadow still</div> - <div>Glowered about, as it would fill</div> - <div>The room with wildest forms and shades,</div> - <div>As though some ghostly queen of spades</div> - <div>Had come to mock behind her back,</div> - <div>And dance, and ruffle her garments black.</div> - <div>Untired she read the legend page,</div> - <div>Of holy Mark, from youth to age,</div> - <div>On land, on sea, in pagan chains,</div> - <div>Rejoicing for his many pains.</div> - <div>Sometimes the learned eremite,</div> - <div>With golden star, or dagger bright,</div> - <div>Referred to pious poesies</div> - <div>Written in smallest crow-quill size</div> - <div>Beneath the text; and thus the rhyme</div> - <div>Was parcelled out from time to time:—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[471]</a></span></div> - <div>"'Gif ye wol stonden<a name="FNanchor_203_203" id="FNanchor_203_203"></a><a href="#Footnote_203_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a> hardie wight—</div> - <div>Amiddės of the blackė night—</div> - <div>Righte in the churchė porch, pardie</div> - <div>Ye wol behold a companie</div> - <div>Approchen thee full dolourouse:</div> - <div>For sooth to sain from everich house</div> - <div>Be it in city or villàge</div> - <div>Wol come the Phantom and imàge</div> - <div>Of ilka<a name="FNanchor_204_204" id="FNanchor_204_204"></a><a href="#Footnote_204_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a> gent and ilka carle</div> - <div>Whom coldė Deathė hath in parle</div> - <div>And wol some day that very year</div> - <div>Touchen with foulė venime spear</div> - <div>And sadly do them all to die.—</div> - <div>Hem all shalt thou see verilie—</div> - <div>And everichon shall by thee pass</div> - <div>All who must die that year, Alas.'</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Als<a name="FNanchor_205_205" id="FNanchor_205_205"></a><a href="#Footnote_205_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a> writith he of swevenis,<a name="FNanchor_206_206" id="FNanchor_206_206"></a><a href="#Footnote_206_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a></div> - <div>Men han beforne they wake in bliss,</div> - <div>Whanne that hir friendės thinke hem bound</div> - <div>In crimpèd shroude farre under grounde;</div> - <div>And how a litling child mote be</div> - <div>A saint er its nativitie,</div> - <div>Gif that the modre—God her blesse!—</div> - <div>Kepen in solitarinesse,</div> - <div>And kissen devoute the holy croce—</div> - <div>Of Goddės love, and Sathan's force,—</div> - <div>He writith; and thinges many mo,</div> - <div>Of swichė thinges I may not show.</div> - <div>Bot I must tellen verilie</div> - <div>Somdel of Saintė Cicilie,</div> - <div>And chieflie what he auctoriethe</div> - <div>Of Saintė Markis life and dethe:"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At length her constant eyelids come</div> - <div>Upon the fervent martyrdom;</div> - <div>Then lastly to his holy shrine,</div> - <div>Exalt amid the tapers' shine</div> - <div>At Venice....</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[472]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_461">461</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LAID IN MY QUIET BED</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I were,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I saw within my troubled head a heap of thoughts appear;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And every thought did shew so lively in mine eyes,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">That now I sighed, and then I smiled, as cause of thought did rise.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I saw the little boy in thought how oft that he</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Did wish of God, to scape the rod, a tall young man to be.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The young man eke that feels his bones with pains opprest,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">How he would be a rich old man, to live and lie at rest.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The rich old man that sees his end draw on so sore,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">How he would be a boy again, to live so much the more.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Whereat full oft I smiled, to see how all these three,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">From boy to man, from man to boy, would chop and change degree....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_462">462</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>AT NIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Home, home from the horizon far and clear,</div> - <div class="i1">Hither the soft wings sweep;</div> - <div>Flocks of the memories of the day draw near</div> - <div class="i1">The dovecote doors of sleep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh, which are they that come through sweetest light</div> - <div class="i1">Of all these homing birds?</div> - <div>Which with the straightest and the swiftest flight?</div> - <div class="i1">Your words to me, your words!</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Alice Meynell</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_463">463</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ECHO</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Come to me in the silence of the night;</div> - <div class="i1">Come in the speaking silence of a dream;</div> - <div>Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright</div> - <div class="i1">As sunlight on a stream;</div> - <div class="i3">Come back in tears,</div> - <div>O memory, hope, love of finished years.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[473]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,</div> - <div>Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;</div> - <div class="i1">Where thirsting longing eyes</div> - <div class="i3">Watch the slow door</div> - <div>That opening, letting in, lets out no more.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live</div> - <div class="i1">My very life again though cold in death:</div> - <div>Come back to me in dreams, that I may give</div> - <div class="i1">Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:</div> - <div class="i3">Speak low, lean low,</div> - <div>As long ago, my love, how long ago.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Christina Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_464">464</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SHADOW OF NIGHT</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How strange it is to wake</div> - <div class="i1">And watch while others sleep,</div> - <div>Till sight and hearing ache</div> - <div class="i1">For objects that may keep</div> - <div>The awful inner sense</div> - <div class="i1">Unroused, lest it should mark</div> - <div>The life that haunts the emptiness</div> - <div class="i1">And horror of the dark.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How strange the distant bay</div> - <div class="i1">Of dogs; how wild the note</div> - <div>Of cocks that scream for day,</div> - <div class="i1">In homesteads far remote;</div> - <div>How strange and wild to hear</div> - <div class="i1">The old and crumbling tower,</div> - <div>Amidst the darkness, suddenly</div> - <div class="i1">Take life and speak the hour....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The nightingale is gay,</div> - <div class="i1">For she can vanquish night;</div> - <div>Dreaming, she sings of day,</div> - <div class="i1">Notes that make darkness bright:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[474]</a></span></div> - <div>But when the refluent gloom</div> - <div class="i1">Saddens the gaps of song,</div> - <div>We charge on her the dolefulness,</div> - <div class="i1">And call her crazed with wrong.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Coventry Patmore</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_465">465</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>OUT IN THE DARK</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Out in the dark over the snow</div> - <div>The fallow fawns invisible go</div> - <div>With the fallow doe;</div> - <div>And the winds blow</div> - <div>Fast as the stars are slow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Stealthily the dark haunts round</div> - <div>And, when the lamp goes, without sound</div> - <div>At a swifter bound</div> - <div>Than the swiftest hound,</div> - <div>Arrives, and all else is drowned;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And I and star and wind and deer,</div> - <div>Are in the dark together,—near,</div> - <div>Yet far,—and fear</div> - <div>Drums on my ear</div> - <div>In that sage company drear.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How weak and little is the light,</div> - <div>All the universe of sight,</div> - <div>Love and delight,</div> - <div>Before the might,</div> - <div>If you love it not, of night.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Edward Thomas</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_466"><a href="#note_466">466</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>NOCTURNE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The red flame flowers bloom and die,</div> - <div class="i1">The embers puff a golden spark.</div> - <div>Now and again a horse's eye</div> - <div class="i1">Shines like a topaz in the dark.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[475]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A prowling jackal jars the hush,</div> - <div class="i1">The drowsy oxen chump and sigh—</div> - <div>The ghost moon lifts above the bush</div> - <div class="i1">And creeps across the starry sky.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Low in the south the "Cross" is bright,</div> - <div class="i1">And sleep comes dreamless, undefiled,</div> - <div>Here in the blue and silver night,</div> - <div class="i1">In the star-chamber of the Wild.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Crosbie Garstin</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_467">467</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE ANGEL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I dreamt a Dream! what can it mean?</div> - <div>And that I was a maiden Queen</div> - <div>Guarded by an Angel mild:</div> - <div>Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And I wept both night and day,</div> - <div>And he wiped my tears away;</div> - <div>And I wept both day and night,</div> - <div>And hid from him my heart's delight.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So he took his wings and fled;</div> - <div>Then the morn blushed rosy red;</div> - <div>I dried my tears, and armed my fears</div> - <div>With ten thousand shields and spears.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Soon my Angel came again;</div> - <div>I was armed, he came in vain;</div> - <div>For the time of youth was fled,</div> - <div>And grey hairs were on my head.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_468">468</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>"ANGEL SPIRITS OF SLEEP"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Angel spirits of sleep,</div> - <div>White-robed, with silver hair,</div> - <div>In your meadows fair,</div> - <div>Where the willows weep,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[476]</a></span></div> - <div>And the sad moonbeam</div> - <div>On the gliding stream</div> - <div>Writes her scattered dream:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Angel spirits of sleep,</div> - <div>Dancing to the weir</div> - <div>In the hollow roar</div> - <div>Of its waters deep;</div> - <div>Know ye how men say</div> - <div>That ye haunt no more</div> - <div>Isle and grassy shore</div> - <div>With your moonlit play;</div> - <div>That ye dance not here,</div> - <div>White-robed spirits of sleep,</div> - <div>All the summer night</div> - <div>Threading dances light?</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Robert Bridges</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_469"><a href="#note_469">469</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A DREAM</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Once a dream did weave a shade</div> - <div>O'er my Angel-guarded bed,</div> - <div>That an Emmet lost its way</div> - <div>Where on grass methought I lay.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Troubled, 'wildered, and forlorn,</div> - <div>Dark, benighted, travel-worn,</div> - <div>Over many a tangled spray,</div> - <div>All heart-broke I heard her say:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O my children! do they cry?</div> - <div>Do they hear their father sigh?</div> - <div>Now they look abroad to see:</div> - <div>Now return and weep for me."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Pitying, I dropped a tear;</div> - <div>But I saw a glow-worm near,</div> - <div>Who replied: "What wailing wight</div> - <div>Calls the watchman of the night?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[477]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I am set to light the ground,</div> - <div>While the beetle goes his round:</div> - <div>Follow now the beetle's hum;</div> - <div>Little wanderer, hie thee home."</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_470"><a href="#note_470">470</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE LAND OF DREAMS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Awake, awake, my little Boy!</div> - <div>Thou wast thy Mother's only joy:</div> - <div>Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?</div> - <div>Awake! thy Father does thee keep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O, what land is the Land of Dreams,</div> - <div>What are its mountains, and what are its streams?</div> - <div>O Father! I saw my Mother there,</div> - <div>Among the Lillies by waters fair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Among the lambs clothèd in white,</div> - <div>She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.</div> - <div>I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn;</div> - <div>O! when shall I again return?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dear Child, I also by pleasant streams</div> - <div>Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams,</div> - <div>But tho' calm and warm the waters wide,</div> - <div>I could not get to the other side.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Father, O Father! what do we here,</div> - <div>In this Land of unbelief and fear?</div> - <div>The Land of Dreams is better far</div> - <div>Above the light of the Morning Star."</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[479]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_479" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_479.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>THE GARDEN</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[481]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_471">471</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>I KNOW A LITTLE GARDEN-CLOSE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I know a little garden-close</div> - <div>Set thick with lily and red rose,</div> - <div>Where I would wander if I might</div> - <div>From dewy dawn to dewy night,</div> - <div>And have one with me wandering.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And though within it no birds sing,</div> - <div>And though no pillared house is there,</div> - <div>And though the apple boughs are bare</div> - <div>Of fruit and blossom, would to God,</div> - <div>Her feet upon the green grass trod,</div> - <div>And I beheld them as before.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There comes a murmur from the shore,</div> - <div>And in the close two fair streams are,</div> - <div>Drawn from the purple hills afar,</div> - <div>Drawn down unto the restless sea;</div> - <div>Dark hills whose heath-bloom feeds no bee,</div> - <div>Dark shores no ship has ever seen,</div> - <div>Tormented by the billows green</div> - <div>Whose murmur comes unceasingly</div> - <div>Unto the place for which I cry.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For which I cry both day and night,</div> - <div>For which I let slip all delight,</div> - <div>Whereby I grow both deaf and blind,</div> - <div>Careless to win, unskilled to find,</div> - <div>And quick to lose what all men seek.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[482]</a></span></div> - <div>Yet tottering as I am, and weak,</div> - <div>Still have I left a little breath</div> - <div>To seek within the jaws of death</div> - <div>An entrance to that happy place,</div> - <div>To seek the unforgotten face,</div> - <div>Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me</div> - <div>Anigh the murmuring of the sea.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Morris</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_472">472</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>FOLLOW</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow,</div> - <div>Though thou be black as night,</div> - <div>And she made all of light,</div> - <div>Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Follow her whose light thy light depriveth,</div> - <div>Though here thou liv'st disgraced,</div> - <div>And she in heaven is placed,</div> - <div>Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Follow those pure beams whose beauty burneth,</div> - <div>That so have scorchèd thee,</div> - <div>As thou still black must be,</div> - <div>Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Follow her while yet her glory shineth:</div> - <div>There comes a luckless night,</div> - <div>That will dim all her light;</div> - <div>And this the black unhappy shade divineth.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Follow still since so thy fates ordainèd;</div> - <div>The Sun must have his shade,</div> - <div>Till both at once do fade—</div> - <div>The Sun still proud, the shadow still disdainèd.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Thomas Campion</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[483]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_473"><a href="#note_473">473</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>UP-HILL</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Does the road wind up-hill all the way?</div> - <div class="i1">Yes, to the very end.</div> - <div>Will the day's journey take the whole long day?</div> - <div class="i1">From morn to night, my friend.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But is there for the night a resting-place?</div> - <div class="i1">A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.</div> - <div>May not the darkness hide it from my face?</div> - <div class="i1">You cannot miss that inn.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?</div> - <div class="i1">Those who have gone before.</div> - <div>Then must I knock or call when just in sight?</div> - <div class="i1">They will not keep you standing at the door.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?</div> - <div class="i1">Of labour you shall find the sum.</div> - <div>Will there be beds for me and all who seek?</div> - <div class="i1">Yea, beds for all who come.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Christina Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_474">474</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LOVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,</div> - <div class="i3">Guilty of dust and sin.</div> - <div>But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack</div> - <div class="i3">From my first entrance in,</div> - <div>Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning</div> - <div class="i3">If I lacked anything.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"A guest," I answered, "worthy to be here":</div> - <div class="i3">Love said, "You shall be he."</div> - <div>"I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear!</div> - <div class="i3">I cannot look on Thee."</div> - <div>Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,</div> - <div class="i3">"Who made the eyes but I?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[484]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame</div> - <div class="i3">Go where it doth deserve."</div> - <div>"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"</div> - <div class="i3">"My dear, then I will serve."</div> - <div>"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."</div> - <div class="i3">So I did sit and eat.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">George Herbert</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_475">475</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>A ROYAL GUEST</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Yet if His Majesty our sovereign lord</div> - <div class="i2">Should of his own accord</div> - <div class="i2">Friendly himself invite,</div> - <div>And say, "I'll be your guest to-morrow night,"</div> - <div>How should we stir ourselves, call and command</div> - <div>All hands to work! "Let no man idle stand!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall,</div> - <div class="i2">See they be fitted all</div> - <div class="i2">Let there be room to eat,</div> - <div>And order taken that there want no meat.</div> - <div>See every sconce and candlestick made bright,</div> - <div>That without tapers they may give a light.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Look to the presence: are the carpets spread,</div> - <div class="i2">The dazie<a name="FNanchor_207_207" id="FNanchor_207_207"></a><a href="#Footnote_207_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a> o'er the head,</div> - <div class="i2">The cushions in the chairs,</div> - <div>And all the candles lighted on the stairs?</div> - <div>Perfume the chambers, and in any case</div> - <div>Let each man give attendance in his place!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thus, if the king were coming, would we do,</div> - <div class="i2">And 't were good reason too;</div> - <div class="i2">For 'tis a duteous thing</div> - <div>To show all honour to an earthly king,</div> - <div>And after all our travail and our cost,</div> - <div>So he be pleased, to think no labour lost.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[485]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But at the coming of the King of Heaven</div> - <div class="i2">All's set at six and seven:</div> - <div class="i2">We wallow in our sin,</div> - <div>Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn.</div> - <div>We entertain Him always like a stranger,</div> - <div>And, as at first, still lodge Him in a manger.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_476">476</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>EVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Eve, with her basket, was</div> - <div>Deep in the bells and grass,</div> - <div>Wading in bells and grass</div> - <div>Up to her knees,</div> - <div>Picking a dish of sweet</div> - <div>Berries and plums to eat,</div> - <div>Down in the bells and grass</div> - <div>Under the trees.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Mute as a mouse in a</div> - <div>Corner the cobra lay,</div> - <div>Curled round a bough of the</div> - <div>Cinnamon tall....</div> - <div>Now to get even and</div> - <div>Humble proud heaven and—</div> - <div>Now was the moment or</div> - <div>Never at all.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Eva!" Each syllable</div> - <div>Light as a flower fell,</div> - <div>"Eva!" he whispered the</div> - <div>Wondering maid,</div> - <div>Soft as a bubble sung</div> - <div>Out of a linnet's lung,</div> - <div>Soft and most silverly</div> - <div>"Eva!" he said.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Picture that orchard sprite,</div> - <div>Eve, with her body white,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[486]</a></span></div> - <div>Supple and smooth to her</div> - <div>Slim finger tips,</div> - <div>Wondering, listening,</div> - <div>Listening, wondering,</div> - <div>Eve with a berry</div> - <div>Half-way to her lips.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh, had our simple Eve</div> - <div>Seen through the make-believe!</div> - <div>Had she but known the</div> - <div>Pretender he was!</div> - <div>Out of the boughs he came,</div> - <div>Whispering still her name,</div> - <div>Tumbling in twenty rings</div> - <div>Into the grass.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here was the strangest pair</div> - <div>In the world anywhere,</div> - <div>Eve in the bells and grass</div> - <div>Kneeling, and he</div> - <div>Telling his story low....</div> - <div>Singing birds saw them go</div> - <div>Down the dark path to</div> - <div>The Blasphemous Tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh, what a clatter when</div> - <div>Titmouse and Jenny Wren</div> - <div>Saw him successful and</div> - <div>Taking his leave!</div> - <div>How the birds rated him,</div> - <div>How they all hated him!</div> - <div>How they all pitied</div> - <div>Poor motherless Eve!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Picture her crying,</div> - <div>Outside in the lane,</div> - <div>Eve, with no dish of sweet</div> - <div>Berries and plums to eat,</div> - <div>Haunting the gate of the</div> - <div>Orchard in vain....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[487]</a></span></div> - <div>Picture the lewd delight</div> - <div>Under the hill to-night—</div> - <div>"Eva!" the toast goes round,</div> - <div>"Eva!" again.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Ralph Hodgson</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_477"><a href="#note_477">477</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>EVE</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"While I sit at the door,</div> - <div>Sick to gaze within,</div> - <div>Mine eye weepeth sore</div> - <div>For sorrow and sin:</div> - <div>As a tree my sin stands</div> - <div>To darken all lands;</div> - <div>Death is the fruit it bore.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"How have Eden bowers grown</div> - <div>Without Adam to bend them!</div> - <div>How have Eden flowers blown,</div> - <div>Squandering their sweet breath,</div> - <div>Without me to tend them!</div> - <div>The Tree of Life was ours,</div> - <div>Tree twelvefold-fruited,</div> - <div>Most lofty tree that flowers,</div> - <div>Most deeply rooted:</div> - <div>I chose the Tree of Death.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Hadst thou but said me nay,</div> - <div>Adam, my brother,</div> - <div>I might have pined away;</div> - <div>I, but none other:</div> - <div>God might have let thee stay</div> - <div>Safe in our garden</div> - <div>By putting me away</div> - <div>Beyond all pardon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I, Eve, sad mother</div> - <div>Of all who must live,</div> - <div>I, not another,</div> - <div>Plucked bitterest fruit to give</div> - <div>My friend, husband, lover.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[488]</a></span></div> - <div>O wanton eyes run over;</div> - <div>Who but I should grieve?—</div> - <div>Cain hath slain his brother:</div> - <div>Of all who must die mother,</div> - <div>Miserable Eve!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thus she sat weeping,</div> - <div>Thus Eve our mother,</div> - <div>Where one lay sleeping</div> - <div>Slain by his brother.</div> - <div>Greatest and least</div> - <div>Each piteous beast</div> - <div>To hear her voice</div> - <div>Forgot his joys</div> - <div>And set aside his feast.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The mouse paused in his walk</div> - <div>And dropped his wheaten stalk;</div> - <div>Grave cattle wagged their heads</div> - <div>In rumination;</div> - <div>The eagle gave a cry</div> - <div>From his cloud station:</div> - <div>Larks on thyme beds</div> - <div>Forbore to mount or sing;</div> - <div>Bees drooped upon the wing;</div> - <div>The raven perched on high</div> - <div>Forgot his ration;</div> - <div>The conies in their rock,</div> - <div>A feeble nation,</div> - <div>Quaked sympathetical;</div> - <div>The mocking-bird left off to mock;</div> - <div>Huge camels knelt as if</div> - <div>In deprecation;</div> - <div>The kind hart's tears were falling;</div> - <div>Chattered the wistful stork;</div> - <div>Dove-voices with a dying fall</div> - <div>Cooed desolation</div> - <div>Answering grief by grief.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[489]</a></span></div> - <div>Only the serpent in the dust,</div> - <div>Wriggling and crawling,</div> - <div>Grinned an evil grin and thrust</div> - <div>His tongue out with its fork.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Christina Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_478">478</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>ADAM</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Adam lay i-bowndyn,</div> - <div class="i1">bowndyn in a bond,</div> - <div>Fowre thowsand wynter</div> - <div class="i1">thowt he not to long;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And al was for an appil,</div> - <div class="i1">an appil that he tok,</div> - <div>As clerkes fyndyn wretyn</div> - <div class="i1">in here Book.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ne hadde the appil takė ben,</div> - <div class="i1">the appil taken ben,</div> - <div>Ne hadde never our lady</div> - <div class="i1">a ben hevene qwen.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Blyssid be the tyme</div> - <div class="i1">that appil takė was!</div> - <div>Therefore we mown syngyn</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Deo gracias</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_479">479</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THE SEVEN VIRGINS</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>All under the leaves and the leaves of life</div> - <div class="i1">I met with virgins seven,</div> - <div>And one of them was Mary mild,</div> - <div class="i1">Our Lord's mother of Heaven.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O what are you seeking, you seven fair maids</div> - <div class="i1">All under the leaves of life?</div> - <div>Come tell, come tell, what seek you</div> - <div class="i1">All under the leaves of life?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[490]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"We're seeking for no leaves, Thomas,</div> - <div class="i1">But for a friend of thine;</div> - <div>We're seeking for sweet Jesus Christ,</div> - <div class="i1">To be our guide and thine."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Go down, go down, to yonder town,</div> - <div class="i1">And sit in the gallery,</div> - <div>And there you'll see sweet Jesus Christ</div> - <div class="i1">Nailed to a big yew-tree."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>So down they went to yonder town</div> - <div class="i1">As fast as foot could fall,</div> - <div>And many a grievous bitter tear</div> - <div class="i1">From the virgins' eyes did fall.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O peace, Mother, O peace, Mother,</div> - <div class="i1">Your weeping doth me grieve:</div> - <div>I must suffer this," He said,</div> - <div class="i1">"For Adam and for Eve."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O Mother, take you John Evangelist</div> - <div class="i1">All for to be your son,</div> - <div>And he will comfort you sometimes,</div> - <div class="i1">Mother, as I have done."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O come, thou John Evangelist,</div> - <div class="i1">Thou'rt welcome unto me;</div> - <div>But more welcome my own dear Son,</div> - <div class="i1">Whom I nursèd on my knee."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then he laid his head on His right shoulder,</div> - <div class="i1">Seeing death it struck Him nigh—</div> - <div>"The Holy Ghost be with your soul,</div> - <div class="i1">I die, Mother dear, I die."...</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[491]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_480">480</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>LULLY, LULLAY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lully, lullay, lully, lullay;</div> - <div>The fawcon hath born my make<a name="FNanchor_208_208" id="FNanchor_208_208"></a><a href="#Footnote_208_208" class="fnanchor">[208]</a> away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He bare hym up, he bare hym down,</div> - <div>He bare hym in to an orchard browne.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In that orchard there was an halle</div> - <div>That was hangid with purpill and pall.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And in that hall there was a bede,<a name="FNanchor_209_209" id="FNanchor_209_209"></a><a href="#Footnote_209_209" class="fnanchor">[209]</a></div> - <div>Hit was hangid with gold so rede.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And yn that bede there lythe a knyght,</div> - <div>His woundis bledying day and nyght.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>By that bede side kneleth a may,</div> - <div>And she wepeth both nyght and day.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And by that bedde side there stondith a ston,</div> - <div><i>Corpus Christi</i> wretyn ther'on.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_481">481</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>BALME</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... There grew a goodly tree him faire beside,</div> - <div class="i1">Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red,</div> - <div class="i1">As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,</div> - <div class="i1">Whereof great vertues over all were red:<a name="FNanchor_210_210" id="FNanchor_210_210"></a><a href="#Footnote_210_210" class="fnanchor">[210]</a></div> - <div class="i1">For happie life to all, which thereon fed,</div> - <div class="i1">And life eke everlasting did befall:</div> - <div class="i1">Great God it planted in that blessed sted</div> - <div class="i1">With his almightie hand, and did it call</div> - <div><i>The tree of life</i>, the crime of our first father's fall.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In all the world like was not to be found,</div> - <div class="i1">Save in that soile, where all good things did grow,</div> - <div class="i1">And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground,</div> - <div class="i1">As incorrupted Nature did them sow,</div> - <div class="i1">Till that dread Dragon all did overthrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[492]</a></span></div> - <div class="i1">Another like faire tree eke grew thereby,</div> - <div class="i1">Whereof who so did eat, eftsoones did know</div> - <div class="i1">Both good and ill: O mornefull memory:</div> - <div>That tree through one man's fault hath doen us all to dy.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well,</div> - <div class="i1">A trickling streame of Balme, most soveraine</div> - <div class="i1">And daintie deare, which on the ground still fell,</div> - <div class="i1">And overflowèd all the fertill plaine,</div> - <div class="i1">And it had deawèd bene with timely raine:</div> - <div class="i1">Life and long health that gratious ointment gave,</div> - <div class="i1">And deadly woundes could heale, and reare againe</div> - <div class="i1">The senselesse corse appointed for the grave.</div> - <div>Into that same he fell: which did from death him save....</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Edmund Spenser</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_482">482</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>MY MASTER HATH A GARDEN</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">My master hath a garden, full-filled with divers flowers,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Where thou may'st gather posies gay, all times and hours,</div> - <div class="i7">Here nought is heard</div> - <div class="i7">But paradise-bird,</div> - <div class="i7">Harp, dulcimer, and lute,</div> - <div class="i9">With cymbal,</div> - <div class="i9">And timbrel,</div> - <div class="i7">And the gentle sounding flute.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Oh! Jesus, Lord, my heal and weal, my bliss complete,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Make thou my heart thy garden-plot, true, fair and neat</div> - <div class="i7">That I may hear</div> - <div class="i7">This music clear,</div> - <div class="i7">Harp, dulcimer, and lute,</div> - <div class="i9">With cymbal,</div> - <div class="i9">And timbrel,</div> - <div class="i7">And the gentle sounding flute.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[493]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote" id="sn_483"><a href="#note_483">483</a></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<h4>THIS IS THE KEY</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This is the Key of the Kingdom:</div> - <div>In that Kingdom is a city;</div> - <div>In that city is a town;</div> - <div>In that town there is a street;</div> - <div>In that street there winds a lane;</div> - <div>In that lane there is a yard;</div> - <div>In that yard there is a house;</div> - <div>In that house there waits a room;</div> - <div>In that room an empty bed;</div> - <div>And on that bed a basket—</div> - <div>A Basket of Sweet Flowers:</div> - <div class="i2"><i>Of Flowers, of Flowers;</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i>A Basket of Sweet Flowers</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Flowers in a Basket;</div> - <div>Basket on the bed;</div> - <div>Bed in the chamber;</div> - <div>Chamber in the house;</div> - <div>House in the weedy yard;</div> - <div>Yard in the winding lane;</div> - <div>Lane in the broad street;</div> - <div>Street in the high town;</div> - <div>Town in the city;</div> - <div>City in the Kingdom—</div> - <div>This is the Key of the Kingdom;</div> - <div><i>Of the Kingdom this is the Key</i>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[495]</a></span></p> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_495" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_495.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>ABOUT AND ROUND ABOUT</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[497]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>ABOUT AND ROUNDABOUT</h3> - -<p><i>In Mr. Nahum's</i> The Other Worlde, <i>as I have said on page xxx, there -were many passages written about and roundabout the poems contained in -it. Some of these I copied out. With others that I have added since, -they appear in the following pages. If the reader prefer poems and -poems</i> only <i>in such a collection as this, would he of his kindness and -courtesy ignore everything else? Otherwise, will he please forgive any -blunders he may discover?</i></p> - - -<h4 id="note_1"><a href="#sn_1">1</a>. "<span class="smcap">This is the Key.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This jingle (like Nos. 15, 16 and others) is one of hundreds of nursery -and dandling rhymes which I found in Mr. Nahum's book. Compared with -more formal poems they are like wild flowers—pimpernel, eyebright, -thyme, woodruff, and others even tinier, even quieter, but having their -own private and complete little beauty if looked at closely. Who made -them, how old they are; nobody knows. But when Noah's Ark stranded on -the slopes of Mount Ararat, maybe a blossoming weed or two was nodding -at the open third-storey window out of which over the waters of the -flood the dove had followed the raven, and there, rejoicing in the -sunshine and the green, sat Japheth's wife dandling little Magog on her -lap, and crooning him some such lullaby.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_3"><a href="#sn_3">3</a>.</h4> - -<p>On the one side is printed the old Scots, and on the other the best -I can do to put it into the English of our own time. According to -the dictionary the thistle-cock that cries shame on the sleepers -still drowsing in their beds is the corn-bunting—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[498]</a></span> a cousin of the -yellow-hammer. He has a small harsh monotonous voice as if for the very -purpose. Whereas the nightingale might seem to cry, "Nay, nay: it is in -dreams you wander. Happy ones! Sleep on; sleep on."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_4"><a href="#sn_4">4</a>. "<span class="smcap">I passed by his Garden.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Whatever fate befell the Sluggard, I should like to have taken a walk -in his garden, among those branching thistles, green thorns and briers. -Maybe he sailed off at last to the Isle of Nightmare, or to the land -where it is always afternoon, or was wrecked in Yawning Gap. He must, -at any rate, have had an even heavier head than Dr. Watts supposed if -he never so much as lifted it from his pillow to brood awhile on that -still, verdurous scene. And the birds!</p> - -<p>Indeed, to lie, between sleep and wake, when daybreak is brightening -of an April or a May morning, and so listen to the far-away singing -of a thrush or to the whistling of a robin or a wren is to seem to -be transported back into the garden of Eden. Dreamers, too, may call -themselves travellers.</p> - -<p>Mr. Nahum's picture to this rhyme was of a man in rags looking into a -small round mirror or looking-glass, but at what you couldn't see.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_6"><a href="#sn_6">6</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Merchant bows</span>" (line 7)</h4> - -<p>—(as do the happy to the New Moon, for luck), for his merchandise is -being wafted over the sea under the guidance of the Seaman's, or Ship, -or Lode, or Pole Star. It shines in the constellation of the Little -Bear, and "is the cheefe marke whereby mariners governe their course in -saylings by nyghte." To find the "marke," look towards the north some -cloudless night for the constellation of Seven Stars called the Plough -or the Dipper or Charles's Wain (or Waggon), which "enclyneth his -ravisshinge courses abouten the soverein heighte of the worlde" day and -night throughout the year. Its hinder stars (Dubhe and Merak) are named -"the pointers," because if you follow the line of them with the eye -into the empty skies, the next brightish star it will alight on is the -Seaman's Star. Close beside the second of the seven is a mere speck of -a star. And that is called by country people Jack-by-the-middle-horse. -On this same star looked Shakespeare—as did the 1st Carrier in his -<i>Henry IV</i>.: "Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, He be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[499]</a></span> hanged. -Charles' waine is over the near Chimney, and yet our horse not packt"; -and as did his 2nd Gentleman in <i>Othello</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent3"><i>Montano.</i><span class="i2">What from the Cape can you discerne at Sea?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent3"><i>1st Gentleman.</i>Nothing at all, it is a high-wrought Flood:</div> - <div class="i6q">I cannot 'twixt the Heaven, and the Maine</div> - <div class="i6q">Descry a Saile....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>2nd Gentleman.</i>... Do but stand upon the Foaming Shore,</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">The chidden Billow seemes to pelt the Clowds,</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">The wind-shaked-Surge, with high and monstrous Maine,</div> - <div class="i6q">Seemes to cast water on the burning Beare,</div> - <div class="i6q hangingindent">And quench the Guards of the ever-fixèd Pole.</div> - <div class="i6q">I never did like mollestation view</div> - <div class="i6q">On the enchafèd Flood....</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Faintly shimmering, too, in the northern heavens is that other numerous -starry cluster, known the world over as <i>Seven</i>—to us as the Seven -Sisters or the Pleiades. A strange seven; for only six stars are -now clearly visible to the naked eye, one having vanished, it would -seem, within human memory. When? where?—none can tell. They play in -light as close together as dewdrops in a cobweb hung from thorn to -thorn. Nearby, on winter's cold breast burns the most marvellous of -the constellations—the huntsman Orion, with his Rigel and Bellatrix -and Betelgeuse; his dog Sirius at his heels. "Seek him that maketh -the Seven Stars and Orion, and turneth the shadow of death into the -morning, and maketh the day dark with night...."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_9"><a href="#sn_9">9</a>. "<span class="smcap">Like a Child, Half in Tenderness and Mirth.</span>"</h4> - -<p>At a first reading, perhaps, this line will not appear to flow so -smoothly as the rest. But linger an instant on the word <i>child</i>, and -you will have revealed to yourself one of Shelley's, and indeed one -of every poet's loveliest devices with words—to let the music of his -verse accord with its meaning, and at the same time to please and charm -the ear with a slight variation from the regular beat and accent of the -metre. So, too, in the middle lines of the next stanza. This variation, -which is called rhythm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[500]</a></span> is the very proof of its writer's sincerity. -For if the sound of his verse (or of his voice) rings false, he cannot -have completely realised what he was writing or saying. When a man says -what he means, he says it as <i>if he meant it</i>. The <i>tune</i> of what he -says sounds right. When a man does <i>not</i> mean what he says, he finds it -all but impossible to say it as if he did. The <i>tune</i> goes wrong.</p> - -<p>Just so with reading. So from a gay and tiny <i>Compendious English -Grammar</i> of 1780 I have borrowed these four brief wholesome rules for -reading:</p> - -<p>(1) ... Observe well the pauses, accents and emphases; and never stop -but where the sense will admit of it.</p> - -<p>(2) Humour your voice a little, according to the subject....</p> - -<p>(3) Do not read too fast, lest [in lip or mind] you get a habit -of stammering; adding or omitting words; and be sure that your -understanding keep pace with your tongue.</p> - -<p>(4) In reading Verse, pronounce every word just as if it were prose, -observing the stops with great exactness, and giving each word its -proper accent; and if it be not harmonious, the Poet, and not the -Reader, is to blame."</p> - -<p>Better, perhaps, be sure of your ear before you blame the poet. But in -general, if these rules are followed, there can be little danger of -reading like a parrot, or like a small boy in his first breeches at a -Dame's school. To <i>think</i> while one reads; that is the main thing: so -as not to be, as Sidney says,—just</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... like a child that some fair book doth find,</div> - <div>With gilded leaves or coloured vellum plays,</div> - <div>Or, at the most, on some fair pictures stays,</div> - <div>But never heeds the fruit of writer's mind.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h4 id="note_13"><a href="#sn_13">13</a>. "<span class="smcap">Comes dancing from the East.</span>"</h4> - -<p>I found a story about this dancing in Mrs. Wright's <i>Rustic Speech and -Folklore</i>. It is the story of a woman who lived in a district called -Hockley, in the parish of Broseley. She said that she had heard of such -"dancing" but did not believe it to be true, "till on Easter morning -last, I got up early, and then I saw the sun dance, and dance, and -dance, three times, and I called to my husband and said, '<i>Rowland, -Rowland, get up and see the sun dance!</i>' I used," she said, "not to -believe it, but now I can never doubt more." The neighbours agreed with -her that the sun did dance on Easter morning, and that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[501]</a></span> some of them -had seen it. "Seeing," goes the old proverb, "is believing"—which is -true no less of the "inward eye." I once tried to comfort a very little -boy who was unhappy because there was a Bear under his bed. Candle in -hand, I talked and talked, and proved that there wasn't a real bear for -miles and miles around, not at any rate until we reached the Zoo, and -there—black, brown, sloth, spectacled, grizzly and polar alike—all -of them, poor creatures, were cabined, cribbed and shut up in barred -cages. He listened, tears still shining in his eyes, his small face -sharp and clear. "Why certainly, certainly <i>not</i>," I ended, "there -can't be a real bear for miles around!" He smiled as if pitying me. "Ah -yes, Daddie," he answered with a die-away sob, "but, you see, you's -talking of <i>real</i> bears, and mine <i>wasn't</i> real."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_14"><a href="#sn_14">14</a>. "<span class="smcap">Us Idle Wenches.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It was a jolly bed in sooth,</div> - <div class="i1">Of oak as strong as Babel.</div> - <div>And there slept Kit and Sall and Ruth</div> - <div class="i1">As sound as maids are able.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ay—three in one—and there they dreamed,</div> - <div class="i1">Their bright young eyes hid under;</div> - <div>Nor hearkened when the tempest streamed</div> - <div class="i1">Nor recked the rumbling thunder.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For marvellous regions strayed they in,</div> - <div class="i1">Each moon-far from the other—</div> - <div>Ruth in her childhood, Kit in heaven,</div> - <div class="i1">And Sall with ghost for lover.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But soon as ever sun shone sweet,</div> - <div class="i1">And birds sang, Praise for rain, O—</div> - <div>Leapt out of bed three pair of feet</div> - <div class="i1">And danced on earth again, O!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_17"><a href="#sn_17">17.</a> <span class="smcap">Old May Song</span>.</h4> - -<p>This, like No. 2, and the next song must be as old as the dew-ponds -on the Downs. They were wont to be sung, I have read, by five or six -men, with a fiddle, or flute, or clarionet accompaniment. When I was -a boy I can remember one First of May seeing a Jack-in-the-Green in -the street—a man in a kind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[502]</a></span> of wicker cage hung about with flowers -and leaves—with Maid Marian. Friar Tuck and the rest, dancing and -singing beside him. A great friend of mine, when she was a little girl -of eight, was so frightened at sight of this leafy prancing creature -on her way to school that she turned about and ran for a mile without -stopping.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_19"><a href="#sn_19">19.</a></h4> - -<p>There is far too little of Geoffrey Chaucer's—that most lovable, -shrewd, compassionate, and natural of poets—in this book. There was -much more of him, I noticed, in Mr. Nahum's Tome II. At first sight -his words look a little strange; but not for long; and if every dotted -letter is made a syllable of, his rhythm will flow like water over -bright green waterweed.</p> - -<p>It is a curious, though little thing, that while, among the one hundred -and seventy varieties of flowers Shakespeare mentions, he has no less -than fifty-seven several references to the rose, twenty-one to the -green grass, eighteen to violets, and even to the serviceable but rank -nettle a round dozen, he has but a scant five to Chaucer's beloved -daisy. Flowers, it is true, as says Canon Ellacombe (who collected -all such references into his delight-full book, <i>Plant-lore and -Garden-craft of Shakespeare</i>), never sweeten the Plays for their own -sake alone, and there are no foxgloves, snowdrops or forget-me-nots -in them at all. Still, had he loved daisies as children do, he could -hardly have resisted them even for "their own sake alone." Is not -bairnwort another name for the daisy?</p> - -<p>"A yellow cup, it hath," says Pliny, "and the same is crowned, as it -were with a garland, consisting of five and fifty little leaves, set -round about it in manner of fine pales. These be flowers of the meadow, -and most of such are of no use at all." No use at all, none—except -only to make skylark of every heart whose owner has eyes in his head -for a daisy's simple looks, its marvellous making, and the sheer -happiness of their multitudes wide open in the sun or round-headed and -adrowse in the evening twilight.</p> - -<p>Chaucer's picture portrait is well known. So is that in his own words -in the <i>Canterbury Tales</i>. But here is another, less familiar, by -Robert Greene—of "Sir Jeffery Chaucer," as he calls him. Water chamlet -is a rich coloured silken plush, and a whittell is a knife:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[503]</a></span></p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>His stature was not very tall,</div> - <div>Leane he was, his legs were small,</div> - <div>Hosed within a stock of red</div> - <div>A buttoned bonnet on his head,</div> - <div>From under which did hang, I weene,</div> - <div>Silver haires both bright and sheene,</div> - <div>His beard was white, trimmèd round,</div> - <div>His count'nance blithe and merry found,</div> - <div>A Sleevelesse Iacket large and wide,</div> - <div>With many pleights and skirts Side,</div> - <div>Of water Chamlet did he weare,</div> - <div>A whittell by his belt he beare,</div> - <div>His shooes were cornèd broad before,</div> - <div>His Inkhorne at his side he wore,</div> - <div>And in his hand he bore a booke,</div> - <div>Thus did this auntient Poet looke.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_20"><a href="#sn_20">20</a>. "<span class="smcap">Brave Prick-Song</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—which means, I gather, that while the nightingale was—even into the -dusk of dawn—yet singing her "<i>air</i>" or "<i>descant</i>," the lark joined -in as if reading her notes from the daybreak stars <i>pricking</i> the sky.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_21"><a href="#sn_21">21</a>. "<span class="smcap">Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo!</span>"</h4> - -<p>Four birds, I suppose, have part in this: cuckoo, nightingale (<i>yoog, -yoog</i>), green-finch (?) and owl.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I rose anon, and thought I wouldė gone</div> - <div>Into the woods, to hear the birdis sing,</div> - <div>When that the misty vapour was agone,</div> - <div>And cleare and fairė was the morrowing;</div> - <div>The dew, also, like silver in shining,</div> - <div>Upon the leaves, as any baumė sweet.</div> - </div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And in I went to hear the birdis song,</div> - <div>Which on the branches, both in plain and vale,</div> - <div>So loudly y-sang, that all the wood y-rang,</div> - <div>Like as it should shiver in pieces smale;</div> - <div>And as me thoughten that the nightingale</div> - <div>With so great might her voice began out-wrest,</div> - <div>Right as her heart for love would all to-brest.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">John Lydgate</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[504]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="note_22"><a href="#sn_22">22</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Jealous Trout.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thou that desir'st to fish with line and hook,</div> - <div>Be it in pool, in river, or in brook,</div> - <div>To bless thy bait and make the fish to bite,</div> - <div>Lo, here's a means! if thou canst hit it right:</div> - <div>Take Gum of Life, fine beat, and laid in soak</div> - <div>In oil well drawn from that which kills the oak,</div> - <div>Fish where thou wilt, thou shalt have sport thy fill;</div> - <div>When twenty fail, thou shalt be sure to kill.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It's perfect and good,</div> - <div>If well understood;</div> - <div>Else not to be told</div> - <div>For silver or gold.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>So advises Master Will. Lauson in the <i>Secrets of Angling</i>, which was -published in 1653; the ingredients (or <i>ingrediments</i> as I used to -say when I was a child) of his "gum of life" being <i>Cocculus Juliæ</i>, -<i>Assafoetida</i>, Honey, and Wheat-flour. The "that which kills the oak," -I suppose, is ivy. But it looks as if there may have been a wink in his -eye—to welcome the green in his reader's.</p> - -<p>Here, on the same theme, are a few lines from a poem by Mr. Robert -Bridges:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ilefth">... Sometimes an angler comes, and drops his hook</div> - <div>Within its hidden depths, and 'gainst a tree</div> - <div>Leaning his rod, reads in some pleasant book,</div> - <div>Forgetting soon his pride of fishery,</div> - <div class="i2">And dreams, or falls asleep,</div> - <div class="i2">While curious fishes peep</div> - <div>About his nibbled bait, or scornfully</div> - <div class="i2">Dart off and rise and leap....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And these are by J. Wolcot:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Why flyest thou away with fear?</div> - <div>Trust me there's naught of danger near,</div> - <div class="i1">I have no wicked hooke</div> - <div>All covered with a snaring bait,</div> - <div>Alas, to tempt thee to thy fate,</div> - <div class="i1">And dragge thee from the brooke....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[505]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Enjoy thy stream, O harmless fish;</div> - <div>And when an angler for his dish,</div> - <div class="i1">Through gluttony's vile sin,</div> - <div>Attempts, a wretch, to pull thee out,</div> - <div>God give thee strength, O gentle trout,</div> - <div class="i1">To pull the raskall in!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>A less common and more skilful sport than fly, hook and bait, or even -"tickling" can afford is to share their watery chaos with the fish, -and catch them with the hands. This needs rare skill and cunning -and—a disguise! "For dyeing of your hairs," says Isaac Walton in <i>The -Compleat Angler</i>, "do it thus: Take a pint of strong ale, half a pound -of soot, and a little quantity of the juice of walnut-tree leaves, and -an equal quantity of alum; put these together, into a pot, pan, or -pipkin, and boil them half an hour; and having so done, let it cool; -and being cold, put your hair into it, and there let it lie; it will -turn your hair to be a kind of water or glass-colour or greenish; and -the longer you let it lie, the deeper coloured it will be. You might -be taught to make many other colours, but it is to little purpose; for -doubtless the water-colour or glass-coloured hair is the most choice -and the most useful for an angler, but let it not be too green."</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">And Birds had drawn their Valentines.</span>" (line 4)</h4> - -<p>First thing in the early morning, if you go out on St. Valentine's Day, -which is the 14th day of February, you will meet, if you meet anybody, -your soon-to-be-loved one. So too the birds. In my young days, folks -sent the daintiest pictures to their sweethearts on this day. Mr. Nahum -had a drawer half full of them—with a few locks of hair and some -withered flowers. And one or two of these Valentines were of beaten -gold, with images of lovely things upon them, as if from another planet.</p> - -<p>"This morning came up to my wife's bedside, I being up dressing myself, -little Will Mercer to be her Valentine; and brought her name writ upon -blue paper in gold letters, done by himself, very pretty...." Mr. -Samuel Pepys's <i>Diary</i>.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To-morrow is S. Valentine's day,</div> - <div class="i1">All in the morning betime,</div> - <div>And I a Maid at your Window</div> - <div class="i1">To be your Valentine!</div> - <div class="i12"><i>Ophelia's Song.</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[506]</a></span></p> - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Joan Strokes a Sillabub or Twain.</span>"</h4> - -<p>If you would make a Lemon Sillabub (as advised by Mrs. Charlotte Mason, -"a Professed Housekeeper, who from about 1740 had upwards of Thirty -Years experience in Families of the First Fashion") take "a Pint of -cream, a pint of white wine, the rind of two lemons grated, and the -juice. Sugar to the taste. Let it stand some time; mill or whip it. -Lay the froth on a sieve; put the remainder into glasses. Lay on the -froth." Mr. Nahum must have had a fancy for Cookery Books; there -were dozens of them in his tower room. Indeed, the next best thing -to eating a good dish is to read how it is made; and somehow the old -"cookbook" writers learned to write a most excellent and appetising -English. Here is another recipe from <i>Delightes for Ladies</i>, of -1608—a dainty that would eat uncommonly well with a sillabub:—"<i>To -make a marchpane.</i>—Take two poundes of almonds being blanched, and -dryed in a sieve over the fire, beate them in a stone mortar, and -when they bee small mixe them with two pounde of sugar beeing finely -beaten, adding two or three spoonefuls of rosewater, and that will -keep your almonds from oiling: when your paste is beaten fine, drive -it thin with a rowling pin, and so lay it on a bottom of wafers, then -raise up a little edge on the side, and so bake it, then yce it with -rosewater and sugar, then put it in the oven again, and when you see -your yce is risen up and drie, then take it out of the oven and garnish -it with pretie conceipts, as birdes and beasts being cast out of -standing moldes. Sticke long comfits upright in it, cast biskets and -carrowaies in it, and so serve it; guild it before you serve it: you -may also print of this <i>marchpane</i> paste in your molds for banqueting -dishes. And of this paste our comfit makers at this day make their -letters, knots, armes, escutcheons, beasts, birds, and other fancies." -Also pygmy castles and suchlike, for dessert, which the guests would -demolish with sugar-plums.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Good thou, save mee a piece of Marchpane, and as thou lovest -me, let the Porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell...."</p> - -<p class="r1"><i>Romeo and Juliet</i></p></blockquote> - - -<h4 id="note_23"><a href="#sn_23">23</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Sun arising.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"What other fire could be a better image of the fire which is there, -than the fire which is here? Or what other earth than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[507]</a></span> this, of the -earth which is there?" So said Plotinus, and "I know," said Blake, -"that this world is a world of imagination and vision. I see everything -I paint in this world, but everybody does not see alike. To the eye of -a miser a guinea is far more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn -with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled -with grapes. The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes -of others only a green thing which stands in the way.... Some scarce -see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is -Imagination itself. As a man is, so he sees. As the eye is formed, such -are its powers. You certainly mistake, when you say that the visions -of fancy are not to be found in this world. To me this world is all -one continued vision." ... Indeed, when Blake was a child, he saw on -Peckham Rye a tree, full, not of birds, but of angels; and his poems -show how marvellously clear were the eyes with which he looked at the -things of Nature.</p> - -<p>In the year 1872, an old lady might have been seen driving across the -Rye in her silvery carriage; and she came to where, under a flowering -tree, sat a small boy—the locks of hair upon his head like sheaves -of cowslips, his eyes like speedwells, and he in very bright clothes. -And he was a-laughing up into the tree. She stopped her carriage and -said to him almost as if she were more angry than happy, "What are -you laughing at, child?" And he said, "At the sparrows, ma'am." "Mere -sparrows!" says she, "but why?" "Because they were saying," says he, -"here comes across the Rye a blind old horse, a blind old coachman, -and a blind old woman." "But I am not blind," says she. "Nor are they -not '<i>mere</i> sparrows'," said the child. And at that the old lady was -looking out of her carriage at no child, but at a small bush, in bud, -of gorse.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_24"><a href="#sn_24">24</a>. "<span class="smcap">And Thank Him Then</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—as does Robert Herrick's child, in his "Grace":</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here a little child I stand,</div> - <div>Heaving up my either hand;</div> - <div>Cold as Paddocks though they be,</div> - <div>Here I lift them up to Thee,</div> - <div>For a Benizon to fall</div> - <div>On our meat, and on us all. <span class="smcap">Amen</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[508]</a></span></p> - -<p>A paddock is a frog or a toad, it seems. To either small cold hand -there are four cold fingers and a thumb; and in old times, says -Halliwell, our ancestors had distinct names for each of the five -toes and for each of the five fingers. The fingers were called -thumb, toucher, longman, leche-man, little-man: leche-man being the -ring-finger, because in that "there is a sinew very tender and small -that reaches to the heart." In Essex they used to call them (and still -may)—Tom Thumbkin, Bess Bumpkin, Long Linkin, Bill Wilkin, and Little -Dick. In Scotland: Thumbkin, Lickpot, Langman, Berrybarn and Pirlie -Winkie.</p> - -<p>And here are some more from Dr. Courtenay Dunn's <i>Natural History of -the Child</i>—a book which is graced with as handsome a frontispiece as -ever I've seen:</p> - -<table summary="verse" class="smaller"> - <tr> - <td>Thumb</td> - <td>- Tommy Tomkins</td> - <td>or Bill Milker.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Forefinger</td> - <td>- Billy Wilkins</td> - <td> " Tom Thumper.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Third finger</td> - <td>- Long Larum</td> - <td> " Long lazy.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Fourth finger</td> - <td>- Betsy Bedlam</td> - <td> " Cherry Bumper.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Little finger</td> - <td>- Little Bob</td> - <td> " Tippity, Tippity-Town-end.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>Toes:</p> - -<table summary="verse" class="smaller"> - <tr> - <td>Big toe</td> - <td>- Tom Barker</td> - <td>or Toe Tipe.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Toe 2</td> - <td>- Long Rachel</td> - <td> " Penny Wipe.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Toe 3</td> - <td>- Minnie Wilkin</td> - <td> " Tommy Tistle.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Toe 4</td> - <td>- Milly Larkin</td> - <td> " Billy Whistle.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Little toe</td> - <td>- Little Dick</td> - <td> " Tripping-go.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>So (if you wish) you can secretly name not only your fingers, toes, -rooms, chairs and tables, etc., but also the stars in their courses, -the trees in your orchard, and have your own privy countersign for the -flowers you like best. "Give a dog a bad name, and hang him," says the -old proverb. Give anything a <i>good</i> name, and it is yours for ever. -There is the tale of the unhappy gardener in the Isle of Rumm who -without ill intention called a snapdragon an antirrhinum. And there -arose out of the hillside a Monster named Zobj—but I haven't the space -for the rest. The gardener of course meant well; but when he heard the -Voice counting his last moments, not in common English, but in what -Wensleydale Knitters still remember of the Norse—Yahn, Jyahn, Tether, -Mether, Mumph, Hither, Lither, Auver, Dauver, Die—well, he died before -he was due, so to speak.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[509]</a></span></p> - -<p class="p-left">While we are on this subject, here is a Face Rhyme:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bo Peeper</div> - <div>Nose Dreeper</div> - <div>Chin Chopper</div> - <div>White Lopper</div> - <div>Red Rag</div> - <div>And Little Gap.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>This is another:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here sits the Lord Mayor:</div> - <div>Here sit his men;</div> - <div>Here sits the cockadoodle;</div> - <div>Here sits the hen;</div> - <div>Here sits the little chickens;</div> - <div>Here they run in;</div> - <div>Chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper chin.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>The next three are foot rhymes, very soothing at times to fractious -babies. The first is common in London, etc.:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This little pig went to market;</div> - <div>This little pig stayed at home;</div> - <div>This little pig had roast beef;</div> - <div>This little pig had the bone;</div> - <div>This little pig cried <i>Wee-wee-wee-wee-wee</i>!</div> - <div class="i3"><i>All</i> the way home.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>The second comes from the Isle of Wight:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This gurt pig zays, I wants meat;</div> - <div>T'other one zays, Where'll ye hay et?</div> - <div>This one zays, In gramfer's barn;</div> - <div>T'other one zays, Week! Week! I can't get over the dreshel.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And this is from Scotland:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This ain biggit the baurn,</div> - <div>This ain stealt the corn,</div> - <div>This ain stood and saw,</div> - <div>This ain ran awa',</div> - <div>An' wee Pirlie Winkie paid for a'.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And last; here is a dance-babbie-on-knee (or This-is-the-way) rhyme; -also from Scotland:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The doggies gaed to the mill,</div> - <div class="i2">This way and that way;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[510]</a></span></div> - <div>They took a lick out o' <i>this</i> wife's poke</div> - <div>And they took a lick out o' <i>that</i> wife's poke,</div> - <div>And a loup in the lead, and a dip in the dam,</div> - <div>And gaed walloping, walloping, walloping, <span class="smcap">Hame</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And no doubt came to the conclusion expressed in the sixth stanza of -Robert Herrick's <i>Ternary of Littles, upon a Pipkin of Jelly sent to a -Lady</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little Saint best fits a little Shrine,</div> - <div>A little Prop best fits a little Vine,</div> - <div>As my small Cruse best fits my little Wine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little Seed best fits a little Soyle,</div> - <div>A little Trade best fits a little Toyle,</div> - <div>As my small Jarre best fits my little Oyle.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little Bin best fits a little Bread,</div> - <div>A little Garland fits a little Head,</div> - <div>As my small stuffe best fits my little Shed.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little Hearth best fits a little Fire,</div> - <div>A little Chappell fits a little Quire,</div> - <div>As my small Bell best fits my little Spire.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little streame best fits a little Boat,</div> - <div>A little lead best fits a little Float,</div> - <div>As my small Pipe best fits my little note.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A little meat best fits a little bellie,</div> - <div>As sweetly, Lady, give me leave to tell ye,</div> - <div>This little Pipkin fits this little Jellie.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And the fact that this or any other poem is printed at this end of -the book instead of at the other does not mean that I am any the less -thankful to have it or that Mr. Nahum left it out of his.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_25"><a href="#sn_25">25</a>. "<span class="smcap">I Sing of a Maiden.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Only the spelling of this lovely and ancient little carol has been -slightly changed.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_29"><a href="#sn_29">29</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sleep Stays Not, Though a Monarch Bids.</span>"<br /> -(line 11).</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,</div> - <div>Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[511]</a></span></div> - <div>And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,</div> - <div>Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,</div> - <div>Under the canopies of costly state,</div> - <div>And lulled with sound of sweetest melody?</div> - <div>O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile</div> - <div>In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch</div> - <div>A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?</div> - <div>Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast</div> - <div>Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains</div> - <div>In cradle of the rude imperious surge,</div> - <div>And in the visitation of the winds,</div> - <div>Who take the ruffian billows by the top,</div> - <div>Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them</div> - <div>With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds,</div> - <div>That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?</div> - <div>Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose</div> - <div>To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;</div> - <div>And in the calmest and most stillest night,</div> - <div>With all appliances and means to boot,</div> - <div>Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!</div> - <div>Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.</div> - <div class="i12"><i>Henry IV. Part ii.</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_30"><a href="#sn_30">30</a>.</h4> - -<p>For many years I read this poem as if the accents in the first line -of each stanza fell on the first and third word—the two "I's." It -was stupid of me, for clearly the accent should fall (lightly) on the -second syllable of the "remembers." Apart from the accents or stresses -in a line of verse, there is the rise and fall of the voice, a kind of -tune in the <i>saying</i> of it. If the right tune is not caught, then the -difference is as much as if one sniffed a wallflower and it smelt like -African mimosa. And to me, as to hundreds of thousands of Englishmen, -this poem is as familiar, long-endeared and refreshing as wallflower, -Sweet William, or Old Man. This is the second or third time I have made -remarks about the rhythm, lilt or tune of a poem; and it won't be the -last. May I be forgiven, for as Chaucer wrote to his small son Louis -when he was sharing with him his love of astronomy: "Soothly me seemeth -betre to writen unto a child twice a good sentence, then he forget it -ones." As for his elders, even thrice may be short commons.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[512]</a></span></p> - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Those Flowers made of Light.</span>" (line 12)</h4> - -<p>Hold up a flower between eye and sun, or even candle-flame, and it -seems little but its own waxen hue and colour. Moonlight is too pale; -the petals remain opaque. In the moon's light, indeed, blueness is -scarcely distinguishable from shadowiness; red darkens but yellow -pales, and the fairest flowers of all wake in her beams—jasmine, -convolvulus, evening-primrose—as if they not only shared her radiance -but returned a glowwormlike fuminess of their own.</p> - -<p>Once, long before I came to Thrae, having plucked for my mother a few -convolvulus flowers, I remember when I was just about to give them into -her hand I discovered that the beautiful cups of delight had enwreathed -themselves together, and had returned as it were to the bud, never to -reopen. I was but a child, and this odd little disappointment was so -extreme that I burst out crying.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_32"><a href="#sn_32">32</a>.</h4> - -<p>See just above, No. 30: and for proof of the curious obedience of words -to any bidden rhythm it is interesting to compare this poem with its -next neighbours. Mr. Frost's colt is called "a little Morgan," because -he was of a famous breed of horses of that name which are the pride of -the State of Vermont.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_35"><a href="#sn_35">35</a>.</h4> - -<p>Only a single copy of the old play, <i>Mundus et Infans</i>, from which -this fragment is taken, is known to be in existence. It was printed by -Wynkyn de Worde in 1522; and was written roundabout 1500.</p> - -<p>The lines need a slow reading to get the run and lilt of them: and -even at that they jog and creak like an old farm-cart. But the boy, -Dalyaunce, if one takes a little pains, will come gradually out of them -as clear to the eye as if you had met him in the street to-day, on his -way to "schole" for yet another "docking."</p> - -<p>Clothes, houses, customs, food a little, thoughts a little, knowledge, -too—all change as the years and centuries go by, but Dalyaunce under -a thousand names lives on. It never occurred to me when I was young -to think that the children in Rome talked Latin at their games, and -that Solomon and Caesar, Prester John and the Grand Khan knew in their -young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[513]</a></span> days what it means to be homesick and none too easy to sit down. -Yet there are knucklebones and dolls in London that the infant subjects -of the Pharaohs played with, and at Stratford Grammar School, for all -to see, is Shakespeare's school desk. As for Dalyaunce, "dockings" are -not nowadays so harsh as once they were.</p> - -<p>In proof of this, there is a passage from a book, telling of his own -life as a small boy, written by Guibert de Nogent. He is speaking of -his childhood, about the year when William the Conqueror landed at -Hastings:</p> - -<p>'So, after a few of the evening hours had been passed in that study, -during which I had been beaten even beyond my deserts, I came and sat -at my mother's knees. She, according to her wont, asked whether I had -been beaten that day; and I, unwilling to betray my master, denied it; -whereupon, whether I would or no, she threw back my inner garment (such -as men call shirt), and found my little ribs black with the strokes -of the osier, and rising everywhere into weals. Then, grieving in her -inmost bowels at this punishment so excessive for my tender years, -troubled and boiling with anger, and with brimming eyes, she cried, -"Never now shalt thou become a clerk, nor shalt thou be thus tortured -again to learn thy letters!" Whereupon, gazing upon her with all the -seriousness that I could call to my face, I replied, "Nay, even though -I should die under the rod, I will not desist from learning my letters -and becoming a clerk!"'</p> - -<p>Still, there were more merciful schoolmasters than Guibert de Nogent's, -even in days harsh as his; as this further extract from Mr. G. G. -Coulton's enticing <i>Medieval Garner</i> shows:</p> - -<p>'One day, when a certain Abbot, much reputed for his piety, spake with -Anselm concerning divers points of Monastic Religion, and conversed -among other things of the boys that were brought up in the cloister, -he added: "What, pray, can we do with them? They are perverse and -incorrigible; day and night we cease not to chastise them, yet they -grow daily worse and worse."</p> - -<p>Whereat Anselm marvelled, and said, "Ye cease not to beat them? And -when they are grown to manhood, of what sort are they then?" "They are -dull and brutish," said the other.</p> - -<p>Then said Anselm, "With what good profit do ye expend your substance in -nurturing human beings till they become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[514]</a></span> brute beasts?... But I prithee -tell me, for God's sake, wherefore ye are so set against them? Are they -not human, sharing in the same nature as yourselves? Would ye wish -to be so handled as ye handle them? Ye will say, 'Yes, if we were as -they are.' So be it, then; yet is there no way but that of stripes and -scourges for shaping them to good? Did ye ever see a goldsmith shape -his gold or silver plate into a fair image by blows alone? I trow not. -What then? That he may give the plate its proper shape, he will first -press it gently and tap it with his tools; then again he will more -softly raise it with discreet pressure from below, and caress it into -shape. So ye also, if ye would see your boys adorned with fair manners, -ye should not only beat them down with stripes, but also raise their -spirits and support them with fatherly kindness and pity'...."</p> - -<p>There was an old woodcut, hanging on Mr. Nahum's wall in his tower -room, showing a boy in the middle ages being whipped in a kind of -machine (something like a roasting-jack), and a schoolmaster standing -by, nicely smiling, in a gown. When Coleridge was a bluecoat boy at -Christ's Hospital with Charles Lamb, he seems to have had a headmaster -of this kind: "'Boy!' I remember Bowyer saying to me once when I was -crying the first day after my return after the holidays,—'Boy! the -school is your father! Boy! the school is your mother! Boy! the school -is your brother! the school is your sister! the school is your first -cousin, and your second cousin, and all the rest of your relations! -Let's have no more crying.' ...</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Bowyer was no comforter, either. Val. Le Grice and I were -once going to be flogged for some domestic misdeed, and Bowyer was -thundering away at us, by way of prologue, when Mrs. B. looked in and -said, 'Flog them soundly, sir, I beg!' This saved us. Bowyer was so -nettled at the interruption that he growled out, 'Away, woman, away!' -and we were let off."</p> - -<p>Coleridge tells of yet another schoolmaster, whose name, like Bowyer -and birch, also began with a B.: "Busby was the father of the English -public school system. He was headmaster of Westminster through the -reign of Charles I., the Civil War, the Protectorate, the reign of -Charles II., and the Revolution of 1688. Under him Westminster became -the first school in the kingdom. When Charles II. visited the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[515]</a></span> school, -Busby stalked before the King with his hat upon his head, whilst his -most sacred majesty meekly followed him. In private Busby explained -that his conduct was due to the fact that he could not allow, for -discipline's sake, the boys to imagine there could be a greater man -than himself alive." Quite rightly, of course.</p> - -<p>There is, too, the story of the little Lion that went to school to the -Bear. Being, though of royal blood, a good deal of a dunce, Master Lion -bore many sound cuffings from Dr. Bruin on the road to learning, and -found it hot and dusty. After such administrations, he would sometimes -sit in the sun under a window, learning his task and brooding on a day -when he would return to the school and revenge himself upon the Doctor -for having treated him so sore. But Master Lion was all this time -growing up, and so many were the cares of State when he had left his -books and become a Prince and Heir Apparent, that for a time he had no -thought for his old school. Being, however, in the Royal Gardens one -sunny morning, and seeing bees busy about their hive, he remembered -an old saying on the sweetness of knowledge and wisdom, and this once -more reminded him of his old Master. Bidding his servants sling upon -a rod half a dozen of the hives, he set out to visit Dr. Bruin. The -hives were taken into his study, and the bees, being unused to flitting -within walls out of the sunshine, angrily sang and droned about the -head of the old schoolmaster as he sat at his desk. Their stings were -of little account against his thick hide, but their molestation was a -fret, and he presently cried aloud, "Would that the Prince had kept -his gifts to himself!" The Prince, who was standing outside the door, -listening and smiling to himself, thereupon cried out: "Ah! Dr. Bruin, -when I was under your charge, you often heavily smit and cuffed me with -those long-clawed paws of yours. Now I am older, and have learned how -sweet and worthy is the knowledge they instilled. This too will be your -experience. My bees may fret and buzz and sting a little now, but you -will think of me more kindly when you shall be tasting their rich honey -in the Winter that is soon upon us." And Dr. Bruin, peering out at the -Prince from amid the cloud of the bees, when he heard him thus call Tit -for Tat, he couldn't help but laugh.</p> - -<p>And last—to return to Coleridge once more, who, in the bad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[516]</a></span> old days, -so far as food goes, never "had a belly full" at Christ's Hospital, and -whose appetite was only "damped, never satisfied,"—here is one of his -earliest letters (to his elder brother George), which <i>may</i> have an -(indirect) reference to Dr. Bowyer's birch:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Dear Brother,—You will excuse me for reminding you that, as -our holidays commence next week, and I shall go out a good deal, a good -pair of breeches will be no inconsiderable accession to my appearance. -For though my present pair are excellent for the purpose of drawing -mathematical figures on them, and though a walking thought, sonnet or -epigram would appear in them in very <i>splendid</i> type, yet they are not -altogether so well adapted for a female eye—not to mention that -I should have the charge of vanity brought against me for wearing a -looking-glass. I hope you have got rid of your cold—and I am</p> - -<p class="left8">Your affectionate brother,</p> - -<p class="r1 smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</p> -</blockquote> - - -<h4 id="note_40"><a href="#sn_40">40</a>.</h4> - -<p>This too should go to the lilt of its music, as then the accents would -come clearly. I think, in the reading of it, there should be four -stressed syllables to the first, second and fifth lines in each stanza: -" Whâr hae ye bêen a' day, mŷ boy Tâmmy"; and "The wêe thing gie's -her hând, and says, There, gâng and ask my Mâmmy." A line of verse like -this resembles a piece of elastic; if you leave it very slack you will -get no music out of it at all; stretch it a little too far, it snaps.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_41"><a href="#sn_41">41</a>. "<span class="smcap">Rosy Apple, Lemon, or Pear.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This little jingle and Nos. 15, 16, 68, 75, etc., are Singing Game -Rhymes, of which scores have been collected from the mouths of -children near and far from all over the Kingdom, and are now to be -found in print in Lady Gomme's two stout engrossing volumes entitled -<i>Traditional Games</i>. In these more than seven hundred games are -described, including Rakes and Roans, Rockety Row, Sally Go Round -the Moon, Shuttlefeather, Spannims, Tods and Lambs, Whigmeleerie, -Allicomgreenaie, Bob-Cherry, Oranges and Lemons, Cherry Pit, -Thumble-bones, Lady on Yandor Hill, Hechefragy, and Snail Creep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[517]</a></span></p> - -<p>A good many of these games have singing rhymes to them. And the -words of them vary in different places. For the children in each -of twenty or more villages and towns may have their own particular -version of the same rhyme. As for the original from which all such -versions must once have come—<i>that</i> may be centuries old. Like the -Nursery Rhymes, they were most of them in the world ages before our -great-great-great-grand-dams were babies in their cradles. The noble -game of Hop Scotch, for instance, Lady Gomme tells us, was in favour -before the year I.</p> - -<p>The most mysterious rhymes of all are said to refer to ancient tribal -customs, rites and ceremonies—betrothals, harvest-homes, sowings, -reapings, well-blessings, dirges, divinations, battles, hunting, and -exorcisings—before even London was else than a few hovels by its -river's side. Rhymes such as these having been passed on from age to -age and from one piping throat to another, have grown worn and battered -of course, and become queerly changed in their words.</p> - -<p>These from Mr. Nahum's book have their own differences too. He seems to -have liked best those that make a picture, or sound uncommonly sweet -and so carry the fancy away. Any little fytte or jingle or jargon of -words that manages <i>that</i> is like a charm or a talisman, and to make -new ones is as hard as to spin silk out of straw, or to turn beech -leaves into fairy money. When one thinks, too, of the myriad young -voices that generation after generation have carolled these rhymes -into the evening air, and now are still—well, it's a thought no less -sorrowful for being strange, and no less strange for the fact that our -own voices too will some day be as silent.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Summer's pleasures they are gone like to visions every one,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I tried to call them back, but unbidden they are gone</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Dear heart, and can it be that such raptures meet decay?</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I thought them all eternal when by Langley Bush I lay,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">I thought them joys eternal when I used to shout and play</div> - <div class="hangingindent">On its bank at "clink and bandy," "chock" and "taw" and "ducking stone,"</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Where silence sitteth now on the wild heath as her own</div> - <div>Like a ruin of the past all alone....</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Clare</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[518]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="note_42"><a href="#sn_42">42</a>. "<span class="smcap">In Praise.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The loveliest and gayest song of praise and sweetness to a "young -thing" I have ever seen.</p> - -<p>"Ielofler"—gelofer, gelofre, gillofre, gelevor, gillyvor, gillofer, -jerefloure, gerraflour—all these are ways of spelling Gillyflower, -gelofre coming nearest to its original French: <i>giroflée</i>—meaning -spiced like the clove. There were of old, I find, three kinds of -gillyflowers: the clove, the stock and the wall. It was the first -of these kinds that was meant in the earlier writers by the small -clove carnation (or Coronation, because it was made into chaplets or -garlands). Its Greek name was dianthus (the flower divine); and its -twin-sister is the Pink, so called because its edges are, as it were, -picked out, jagged, notched, scalloped. Country names for it are Sweet -John, Pagiants, Blunket and Sops-in-Wine, for it spices what it floats -in, and used to be candied for a sweetmeat. Blossoming in July, the -Gillyflower suggests July-flower, and if Julia is one's sweetheart, -it may also be a Julie-flower. So one name may carry many echoes. -It has been truly described as a gimp and gallant flower, and, says -Parkinson, who wrote <i>Paradisus Terrestris</i>, it was the chiefest of -account in Tudor gardens. By 1700 indeed there were 360 kinds and four -classes of clove gillyflower—the Flake, the Bizarre, the Piquette or -picotee (<i>picotée</i> or pricketed), and the Painted Lady, the last now -gone. Its ancestor, the dianthus, seems to have crossed the Channel -with the Normans, for it flourishes on the battlements of Falaise, -the Conqueror's birthplace, and crowns the walls of many a Norman -Castle—Dover, Ludlow, Rochester, Deal—to this day.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_43"><a href="#sn_43">43</a>. "<span class="smcap">Pygsnye</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">must be Piggie's eye, or, from an old word, Twinkle-eye, just as we -nowadays call a child or loved-one Goosikins or Pussikins, or Lambkin -Pie, or Bunch-of-Roses, or Chickabiddy, or Come-kiss-me-quick. <i>Minion</i> -means anything small, minikin, delicate, dainty, darling. Look close, -for example, at the brown-green florets of a stalk of mignonette.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_44"><a href="#sn_44">44</a>. "<span class="smcap">A Worm's Light.</span>" (line 10)</h4> - -<p>Many years ago I had the curious pleasure of reading a little book—and -one in small print too (Alice Meynell's lovely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[519]</a></span> <i>Flower of the -Mind</i>)—by <i>English</i> glowworm light. The worm was lifting its green -beam in the grasses of a cliff by the sea, and shone the clearer the -while because it was during an eclipse of the moon. But see No. 93.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_50"><a href="#sn_50">50</a>. "<span class="smcap">But Never Cam' He.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ilefth">... "O wha will shoe my bonny foot?</div> - <div class="i1">And wha will glove my hand?</div> - <div>And wha will lace my middle jimp,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' a lang, lang linen band?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O who will kame my yellow hair,</div> - <div class="i1">With a haw bayberry kame?</div> - <div>And wha will be my babe's father,</div> - <div class="i1">Till Gregory come hame?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Thy father, he will shoe thy foot,</div> - <div class="i1">Thy brother will glove thy hand,</div> - <div>Thy mother will bind thy middle jimp</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' a lang, lang linen band!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair,</div> - <div class="i1">Wi' a haw bayberry kame;</div> - <div>The Almighty will be thy babe's father,</div> - <div class="i1">Till Gregory come hame."...</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>"Haw" is an old English word meaning (?) blue or braw, and bayberry -is the all-spice tree; so this sad one's yellow hair had for comb an -uncommonly charming thing. In another version the comb is of "new -silver," and in a third it is a red river kame, which, thinks Mr. -Child, may be a corruption of red <i>ivory</i>. But give <i>me</i> (for such -hair) the bayberry kind, and let it be haw.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_51"><a href="#sn_51">51</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Orphan.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"The first sense of sorrow I ever knew," wrote Richard Steele, "was -upon the death of my father, at which time I was not quite five -years of age; but was rather amazed at what all the house meant than -possessed with a real understanding why nobody was willing to play with -me. I remember I went into the room where his body lay, and my mother -sat weeping alone by it. I had my battledore in my hand, and fell -a-beating the coffin, and calling, papa; for, I know not how, I had -some slight idea that he was locked up there. My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[520]</a></span> mother catched me in -her arms, and transported beyond all patience of the silent grief she -was before in, she almost smothered me in her embraces; and told me -in a flood of tears, 'Papa could not hear me, and would play with me -no more, for they were going to put him under ground, whence he could -never come to us again.'"</p> - - -<h4 id="note_53"><a href="#sn_53">53</a>.</h4> - -<p>The first and third stanzas of this poem were (and are) my particular -favourites, and especially the second line in each. Such poems are like -wayside pools, or little well-springs of water. It does not matter how -many wayfarers come thither to quench their thirst, there is abundance -for all.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">The Perishing Pleasures of Man.</span>" (line 18)</h4> - -<p>"But you mustn't imagine," said the old old Harper, "that I harp sad -memories on my harp-strings because, being an ancient I am envious of -my youth. Far from it. My only grief is that even if mine were the Harp -that hung in Tara, I could not express the joy it is to be of years an -hundred, and to remember that once I was nought—and all in the same -bar."</p> - -<p>And for yet another look behind, I cannot leave out this little -rhyme from William Allingham, who made one of the happiest of all -anthologies, "Nightingale Valley":</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Four ducks on a pond,</div> - <div>A grass-bank beyond,</div> - <div>A blue sky of spring,</div> - <div>White clouds on the wing;</div> - <div>What a little thing</div> - <div>To remember for years—</div> - <div>To remember with tears.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>Or, last, this lovely scrap from the Scots—all distance and longing -for home:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O Alva hills is bonny,</div> - <div class="i1">Dalycoutry hills is fair,</div> - <div>But to think on the braes of Menstrie</div> - <div class="i1">It maks my heart fu' sair.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[521]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="note_60"><a href="#sn_60">60</a>.</h4> - -<p>Edward Thomas, who wrote this poem, knew by heart most of the villages, -streams, high roads, by-roads, hills, forests, woods and dales of the -southern counties of England, and came so to know them by the best of -all methods. He walked through them on his feet; and, when so inclined, -sat down by the wayside or leaned over a farm or field gate and gazed -and mused and day-dreamed. Here is another poem of his:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If I should ever by chance grow rich</div> - <div>I'll buy Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch,</div> - <div>Roses, Pyrgo, and Lapwater,</div> - <div>And let them all to my elder daughter.</div> - <div>The rent I shall ask of her will be only</div> - <div>Each year's first violets, white and lonely,</div> - <div>The first primroses and orchises—</div> - <div>She must find them before I do, that is.</div> - <div>But if she finds a blossom on furze—</div> - <div>Without rent they shall all for ever be hers,</div> - <div>Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch,</div> - <div>Roses, Pyrgo and Lapwater,—</div> - <div>I shall give them all to my elder daughter.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><i>Not</i>, of course, to find a blossom on furze or gorse as soon as any -sun is in the year's sky, is the rare feat; and if in your wanderings -over the hills and far away you should chance on secret hidden-away -Pyrgo or Childerditch, sweet with its fragrance, then enquire for -the beautiful, happy young Lady of the Manor. As a matter of fact, -the scent of the furze-blossom is not exactly sweet, but nutlike and -aromatic. This is what Edward Thomas's friend, W. H. Hudson, the great -naturalist, wrote about it: "The gorse is most fragrant at noon, when -the sun shines brightest and hottest. At such an hour when I approach -a thicket of furze, the wind blowing from it, I am always tempted to -cast myself down on the grass to lie for an hour drinking in the odour. -The effect is to make me languid; to wish to lie till I sleep and live -again in dreams in another world, in a vast open-air cathedral where a -great festival of ceremony is perpetually in progress, and acolytes, in -scores and hundreds with beautiful bright faces, in flame yellow and -orange surplices, are ever and ever coming toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[522]</a></span> me, swinging their -censers until I am ready to swoon in that heavenly incense!" ...</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">A Stoat.</span>" (stanza 5)</h4> - -<p>It is the gentle custom of gamekeepers to slaughter at sight -(though not for food) the little preying beasts and birds of the -woodlands—owls, hawks, crows, jays, stoats, weasels, and such like. -They then nail up their carcases to a shed side, or to a barn door, or -on a field-gate, leaving them to rot in the wind for a warning to their -live mates—just as in the old days the precarious English kings spiked -the heads of traitors on the turrets of the Tower. Foxes you "hunt" to -death.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_61"><a href="#sn_61">61</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Howes of the Silent Vanished Races</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">are, I suppose, the mounds, barrows, tumuli or Fairie Hills, some of -them round, some of them long, some of them chambered, beneath which -the ancient races of Britain, centuries before the coming of the Saxons -and the Danes, buried their dead. So once slept the mummied Pharaohs -beneath their enormous Pyramids. Age hangs densely over these solitary -mounds, as over the Dolmens and Cromlechs—Stonehenge, the Whispering -Knights—and the single gigantic Menhirs—the Tingle Stone, the Whittle -Stone, the Bair-down-Man and the demoniac Hoar Stone.</p> - -<p>These were utterly ancient and unintelligible marvels even when the -monk Ranulph Higden wrote his <i>Polychronicon</i> in 1352: The second -wonder, he says, is at Stonehenge beside Salisbury. There great stones -marvellously huge, be a-reared up on high, as it were gates, so that -there seemeth gates to be set up upon other gates. Nevertheless it is -not clearly known nor perceived how and to what end they be so a-reared -up, and "so wonderlych yhonged." And yet, they are but as falling -apple-blossom compared with the age of the world and the antiquity of -the Universe:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent3"><i>1st Gravedigger.</i><span class="ih">Come my spade; there is no ancient - Gentlemen but Gardiners, Ditchers and Grave-makers; they hold up - <i>Adam</i>'s profession.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>2nd Gravedigger.</i> Was he a Gentleman?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>1st Gravedigger.</i><span class="ih">He was the first that ever bore Armes.</span></div> - <div class="i20"><i>Hamlet.</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[523]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="note_62"><a href="#sn_62">62</a>. <span class="smcap">The Twa Brothers</span></h4> - -<p class="p-left">—and here is as romantic and tragic a tale of two friends:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,</div> - <div class="i1">They war twa bonnie lasses;</div> - <div>They biggit a bower on yon Burn-brae,</div> - <div class="i1">And theekit it o'er wi' rashes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They theekit it o'er wi' rashes green,</div> - <div class="i1">They theekit it o'er wi' heather;</div> - <div>But the pest cam' frae the burrows-town,</div> - <div class="i1">And slew them baith thegither.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They thought to lye in Methven kirkyard,</div> - <div class="i1">Amang their noble kin;</div> - <div>But they maun lye in Stronach haugh,</div> - <div class="i1">To biek forenent the sin.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,</div> - <div class="i1">They war twa bonnie lasses;</div> - <div>They biggit a bower on yon Burn-brae,</div> - <div class="i1">And theekit it o'er wi' rashes.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><i>Biggit</i> and <i>theekit</i> means builded and thatched; and the twelfth line -is "to bask beneath the sun."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_64"><a href="#sn_64">64</a>.</h4> - -<p>A tragic tale is hidden, rather than told, in this old Scottish ballad. -It resembles a half ruinous house in a desolate country, dense green -with briar and bramble, echoing with wild voices—its memories gone. -Mr. Nahum's picture for it was of a figure in a woman's bright clothes -and scarlet hood, but with what looked to me like the head of his own -skeleton deep within the hood. And on a stone nearby sat a little -winged boy.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_66"><a href="#sn_66">66</a>. "<span class="smcap">Her High-born Kinsman.</span>"</h4> - -<p>... And there was a wind in the night as they fared onward, a wind in -the mid-air, playing from out the clouds. And presently after, the -twain descended into the valley, the one traveller's foot stumbling as -he went, against the writhen roots that jutted from between the stones -of the path they followed. And it seemed that the voice of one unseen -cried, Lo! And the traveller looked up from out of the valley of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[524]</a></span> -journey, and, behold, a wan moon gleamed between the ravelled clouds; -and the face of his companion showed for that instant clear against -the sky in the shadow of its cloak. And it was the face of a nobleman; -renowned for his patience; courteous and cold; whose name is Death....</p> - - -<h4 id="note_68"><a href="#sn_68">68</a>. "<span class="smcap">London Bridge.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This is yet another singing-game rhyme. When London was nothing but -a cluster of beehive huts in the hill clearings of the great Forest -of Middlesex above the marshes and the Thames, there can have been no -bridge. There <i>may</i> have been a bridge, it seems, in <span class="sm">A.D.</span> 44, -eighty-seven years after the death of Caesar; and for centuries there -was certainly a ferry, Audery the Shipwight being one of its ferrymen, -his oars the shape of shovels, and his boat like a young moon on her -back.</p> - -<p>The rhyme appears to refer to the wooden bridge built in 994 at -Southwark, which was destroyed in 1008 by King Olaf, the Saint of -Norway, to whose glory four London churches are dedicated. Olaf had -become the ally of Ethelred (the Unready), and to defeat the Danes -who had captured the city he first screened his fighting ships with -frameworks of osier for the protection of his men, who then rowed them -up to the Bridge against the tide. They wapped and bound huge ropes -or hawsers round its timber piers, swept down with the slack with the -tide, and so brought the Bridge to ruin.</p> - -<p>The first stone bridge, in building from 1196 to 1208, was partially -destroyed by fire four years afterwards. A picture of the entrancing -re-built Bridge of Elizabeth's time, with its chapel, its many-storied -gabled houses, its haberdashers', goldsmiths' and booksellers' shops, -its cut-waters or starlings and many narrow arches, its gate-house -with the spiked heads atop, its drawbridge and pillory, and that -strange timber mansion, with not a nail in its wood, called Nonesuch, -where perhaps lived the Lord Mayor—all this may be gloated over in -any old seventeenth-century map of London. (John Visscher's of 1616 -shows a windmill in the Strand!) So narrow were those high arches, and -so vehemently flowed the tides beneath them, that even at ebb it was -dangerous for a novice to shoot them in a boat. But between Windsor and -Gravesend it is said there were forty thousand watermen and wherrymen -in Shakespeare's day, yelling "Eastward Ho!", or "West<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[525]</a></span>ward Ho!" for -passengers. The Bridge was the glory of London; as the Thames it -spanned was its main thoroughfare. Fire was its chief enemy; the Great -Fire in 1616 and that in 1633, after which it long continued to be used -though dark, dismal and dangerous. The present monster of granite, over -which the people of London stream to and fro throughout the day, like -ants at the flighting, was built thirty yards west of the old one and -began to span the river in 1832.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_70"><a href="#sn_70">70</a>. <span class="smcap">"This City."</span></h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>London, thou art of townes <i>A per se</i><a name="FNanchor_211_211" id="FNanchor_211_211"></a><a href="#Footnote_211_211" class="fnanchor">[211]</a></div> - <div class="i1">Soveraign of cities, seemliest in sight,</div> - <div>Of high renoun, riches and royaltie;</div> - <div class="i1">Of lordis, barons, and many a goodly knyght;</div> - <div class="i1">Of most delectable lusty ladies bright;</div> - <div>Of famous prelatis, in habitis clericall;</div> - <div class="i1">Of merchauntis full of substaunce and of myght:</div> - <div>London, thou art the flow'r of Cities all.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Strong be thy wallis that about thee standis;</div> - <div class="i1">Wise be the people that within thee dwellis;</div> - <div>Fresh is thy ryver with his lusty strandis;</div> - <div class="i1">Blith be thy chirches, wele sownyng be thy bellis;</div> - <div class="i1">Rich be thy merchauntis in substaunce that excellis;</div> - <div>Fair be their wives, right lovesom, white and small;</div> - <div class="i1">Clere be thy virgyns, lusty under kellis<a name="FNanchor_212_212" id="FNanchor_212_212"></a><a href="#Footnote_212_212" class="fnanchor">[212]</a>!</div> - <div>London, thou art the flow'r of Cities all....</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">William Dunbar</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_71"><a href="#sn_71">71</a>. <span class="smcap">"He opened House to All."</span> (line 22)</h4> - -<p>The subject being good victuals, here is the "Bill of Fare at the -Christening of Mr. Constable's Child, Rector of Cockley Cley, in -Norfolk, January 2, 1682."</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"A whole hog's head souc'd with carrots in the mouth, and -pendants in the ears, with guilded oranges thick sett.</p> - -<p>2 Ox<sup>s</sup> cheekes stewed with 6 marrow bones.</p> - -<p>A leg of Veal larded with 6 pullets.</p> - -<p>A leg of Mutton with 6 rabbits.</p> - -<p>A chine of bief, chine of venison, chine of mutton, chine of -veal, chine of pork, supported by 4 men.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[526]</a></span></p> - -<p>A Venison Pasty.</p> - -<p>A great minced pye, with 12 small ones about it.</p> - -<p>A gelt fat turkey with 6 capons.</p> - -<p>A bustard with 6 pluver.</p> - -<p>A pheasant with 6 woodcock.</p> - -<p>A great dish of tarts made all of sweetmeats.</p> - -<p>A Westphalia hamm with 6 tongues.</p> - -<p>A Jowle of Sturgeon.</p> - -<p>A great charg<sup>r</sup> of all sorts of sweetmeats with wine, and all -sorts of liquors answerable."</p></blockquote> - -<p>And here is another from that inexhaustible Tom Tiddler's ground, -<i>Rustic Speech and Folklore</i> for the "funeral meats" of a farmer who -died near Whitby in 1760: "Besides what was distributed to 1,000 poor -people who had 6d. each in money, there was consumed</p> - -<ul> - <li>110 dozen penny loaves,</li> - <li class="i1">9 large hams,</li> - <li class="i1">8 legs of veal,</li> - <li class="ih">20 stone of beef,</li> - <li class="ih">16 stone of mutton,</li> - <li class="ih">15 stone of Cheshire cheese, and</li> - <li class="ih">30 ankers of ale."</li> -</ul> - -<p>For me the "great dish of tarts," the "guilded oranges" and "the -great charger of sweetmeats"! But after all, fine fat feasts such as -these are but a Town Mouse's crumb of Wedding Cake compared to Mac -Conglinnes' Vision in No. 73, which is from the Gaelic of 1100/1200 -<span class="smcap">a.d.</span>, as translated by Kuno Meyer. <i>Bragget</i>, line 33, appears -to have been a concoction or decoction of ale, honey, sugar and spice, -of which last ambrosial ingredients (according to the old rhyme) are -made little girls.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_72"><a href="#sn_72">72</a>. "<span class="smcap">And bring us in Good Ale</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">really <i>good</i> ale, that is, before beer was made "so mortal small," 133 -years before tea-leaves came from China (to be boiled and the decoction -stored in a barrel); 140 before the first coffee-house in London; and -even, one might be tempted to add, before milk came from the cow, for -as late as 1512 the two young sons of the fifth earl of Northumberland, -Lord Percy aged eleven (who afterwards loved Anne Boleyn), and his -younger brother, Maister Thomas Percy, were allowed for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[527]</a></span> "braikfaste" -even on "Fysch," or fast Days: "Half a Loif of houshold Brede, a -Manchet, a Dysch of Butter, a Pece of Saltfish, a Dysch of Sproits or -iii White Herrynge," and a <i>Potell of Bere</i>, <i>i.e.</i> two quarts or Eight -mugfuls.</p> - -<p>"Hores," or heres, means <i>hairs</i>—cow's or dairymaid's. Butter is less -hairy nowadays, though on the other hand we have margarine.</p> - -<p>I thought perhaps "Godes good" referred to a "podinge" for Saturdays—a -hodge-podge of the scraps and pieces left over through the week; but I -find it is really an old phrase for yeast.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_73"><a href="#sn_73">73</a>.</h4> - -<p>"I' sooth a Feast of Fats" (from the Irish of the twelfth century) -like that dream of the rats in the "<i>Pied Piper of Hamelin</i>" as they -scuttled to their doom in the cold Weser. For a feast of <i>sweets</i> there -is Porphyrio's in the "Eve of St. Agnes:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">"And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,</div> - <div class="i1">In blanchèd linen, smooth, and lavendered,</div> - <div class="i1">While he from forth the closet brought a heap</div> - <div class="i1">Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;</div> - <div class="i1">With jellies soother than the creamy curd,</div> - <div class="i1">And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;</div> - <div class="i1">Manna and dates, in argosy transferred</div> - <div class="i1">From Fez; and spicèd dainties, every one,</div> - <div>From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">These delicates he heaped with glowing hand</div> - <div class="i1">On golden dishes and in baskets bright</div> - <div class="i1">Of wreathèd silver: sumptuous they stand</div> - <div class="i1">In the retirèd quiet of the night,</div> - <div class="i1">Filling the chilly room with perfume light...."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>For a banquet of enchantment there is Lamia's, and of magical fruits, -poor Laura's in "<i>Goblin Market</i>"; Romeo too went feasting with the -Capulets—but only his eyes; so too Macbeth, but <i>his</i> eyes betrayed -him. Bottom in his ass's ears asked only for a munch of your good dry -oats, a handfull of pease, and a bottle of hay, then fell asleep before -even Queen Titania could magick them up for him. As for the poor Babes, -blackberries and dewberries were <i>their</i> last supper. These are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[528]</a></span> but a -few of scores of banqueting delights in poetry—but to include them all -would need such a larder as Jack peeped into when he sat supping in the -Giant's kitchen.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_74"><a href="#sn_74">74</a>. "<span class="smcap">Pigeon Holes, Stool-ball, Barley-break.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This fragment is a patchwork of the half-forgotten. "Pigeon holes" -was a ball-game, played on the green, with wooden arches and little -chambers as in a dovecot—a kind of open-air bagatelle. "Stool-ball" -was popular with Nancies and Franceses on Shrove Tuesday. Barley-break -was in Scotland a kind of "I spy," played in a stackyard, and in -England a sort of "French and English," in three marked spaces or -compartments, the middle one of which was called hell. And here—while -we are on the subject of old and gallant pastimes—is a brief -exposition of our noble and National Game of Cricket in its <i>early</i> -days. It comes from a book with the queer title, "A Nosegay for the -Trouble of Culling; or, Sports of Childhood":</p> - -<p>"Cricket is a game universally played in England, not by boys only, -for men of all ranks pique themselves on playing it with skill. -In Mary-le-bone parish there is a celebrated cricket ground much -frequented by noblemen and gentlemen.</p> - -<p>The wicket consists of two pieces of wood fixed upright and kept -together by another piece which is laid across the top and is called a -bail; if either of these pieces of wood be thrown down by the ball the -person so hitting them becomes the winner.</p> - -<p>The ball used in this game is stuffed exceedingly hard. Many windows -and valuable looking-glasses have been broken by playing cricket in a -room."</p> - -<p>It was in a cricket match in the summer of 1775, when no less than -three "balls" had rolled in between a Mr. Small's two stumps without -stirring the bail, that it was decided to add stump iii.</p> - -<p>As for "tansy" (line 5), here is a recipe for it (to go with the -sillabub on p. 506): "Take 15 eggs, and 6 of the whites; beat them very -well; then put in some sugar, and a little sack; beat them again, and -put about a pint or a little more of cream; then beat them again; then -put in the juice of spinage or of primrose leaves to make it green. -Then put in some more sugar, if it be not sweet enough; then beat it -again a little, and so let it stand till you fry it, when the first -course is in. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[529]</a></span> fry it with a little sweet butter. It must be -stirred and fryed very tender. When it is fryed enough, then put it in -a dish, and strew some sugar upon it, and serve it in."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_75"><a href="#sn_75">75</a>. "<span class="smcap">Mary's gone a-milking.</span>"</h4> - -<p>And, according to Sir Thomas Overbury (who dipped his pen in nectar as -well as ink), <i>"A Fair and Happy Milk-maid</i>," is "a country wench, that -is so far from making herself beautiful by art, that one look of hers -is able to put all facephysic out of countenance....</p> - -<p>"She doth not, with lying long abed, spoil both her complexion and -conditions, ... she rises, therefore, with chanticleer, her dame's -cock, and at night makes the lamb her curfew. In milking a cow, and -straining the teats through her fingers, it seems that so sweet a -milk-press makes the milk the whiter or sweeter; for never came almond -glove or aromatic ointment on her palm to taint it. The golden ears of -corn fall and kiss her feet when she reaps them, as if they wish to be -bound and led prisoners by the same hand that felled them. Her breath -is her own which scents all the year long of June, like a new made -haycock. She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with -pity: and when winter evenings fall early (sitting at her merry wheel), -she sings a defiance to the giddy wheel of fortune. She doth all things -with so sweet a grace, it seems ignorance will not suffer her to do -ill, being her mind is to do well.... She dares go alone and unfold -sheep in the night, and fears no manner of ill, because she means none: -yet to say truth, she is never alone, for she is still accompanied with -old songs, honest thoughts, and prayers, but short ones....</p> - -<p>"Thus lives she, and all her care is she may die in the springtime, -to have store of flowers stuck upon her winding-sheet."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_76"><a href="#sn_76">76</a>. "<span class="smcap">Cypresse black as ere was Crow.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Cypresse (according to a memorandum from one of Mr. Nahum's books) -is the fine cobweblike stuff we now call crape. Peaking-stickes, or -poking-sticks, were gophering irons for frilling out linen, flounces, -etc., etc., and not, as one might guess, curling tongs (since a pointed -beard, and the V of hair on the forehead, used to be called peaks). A -quoife or coif is a lady's head-dress, such as is still worn by nuns; -while as for "maskes for faces," fine ladies in Shakespeare's day -customarily wore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[530]</a></span> them (as old pictures show) when they went to see his -plays. Masks were useful too in disguising the faces of his players, -when—as was the custom in the London theatres up to 1629—boys took -women's parts; and in the streets eyes gleamed out of the holes in -them, worn <i>then</i> for keeping the skin fair, untanned, and unfreckled, -as Julia says of herself in Shakespeare's <i>Two Gentlemen of Verona</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But since she did neglect her looking-glasse,</div> - <div>And threw her Sun-expelling masque away,</div> - <div>The ayre hath starved the roses in her cheekes,</div> - <div>And pinched the lily-tincture of her face....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_78"><a href="#sn_78">78</a>. <span class="smcap">Fairing.</span> (line 5)</h4> - -<p>In this—the earliest known letter of Shelley's—he too asks for a -fairing—the kickshaws and gewgaws sold in the booths of a fair—and a -toothsome one; though I haven't yet been able to discover what he meant -by "hunting nuts":</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="r1">(Horsham).</p> - -<p class="p-left">Monday, July 18, 1803.</p> - -<p class="smcap">Dear Kate,</p> - -<p class="i2">We have proposed a day at the pond next Wednesday; and if you -will come to-morrow morning I would be much obliged to you; -and if you could any how bring Tom over to stay all night, -I would thank you. We are to have a cold dinner over at the -pond, and come home to eat a bit of roast chicken and peas at -about nine o'clock. Mama depends upon your bringing Tom over -to-morrow, and if you don't we shall be very much disappointed.</p> - -<p>Tell the bearer not to forget to bring me a fairing—which is -some ginger-bread, sweetmeat, hunting-nuts, and a pocket book. -Now I end.</p> - -<p class="left8">I am <i>not</i>,</p> - -<p class="left10">Your obedient servant,</p> - -<p class="smcap r1">P. B. Shelley</p></blockquote> - -<p>Even before Mr. Nahum's tower-room, I loved the "bonny brown hair" -of this poem. Was it squirrel brown, or chestnut, or hazelnut, or -autumn-beech, or heather-brown, or walnut, or old hay colour, or -undappled-fawn, or dark lichen, or velvet brown, or marigold or pansy -or wallflower-brown—or yet another?—every one of which would look -charming beneath the rim of a round blue-ribanded "little straw hat."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[531]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="note_80"><a href="#sn_80">80</a>. "<span class="smcap">Widdecombe Fair.</span>"</h4> - -<p>To an eye looking down, the steeple of Widdecombe Church rises in the -midst of Dartmoor like a lovely needle of ivory; and hidden beneath the -turf around it lie, waiting, the bones of Tom Pearse, Bill Brewer ... -Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_83"><a href="#sn_83">83</a>. "<span class="smcap">There were Three Gipsies</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—and they were of England (Somerset), though to judge from this old -ballad they may have padded it down from the Highlands:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There cam' Seven Egyptians on a day,</div> - <div class="i1">And wow, but they sang bonny!</div> - <div>And they sang sae sweet, and sae very complete,</div> - <div class="i1">Down cam' Earl Cassilis' lady.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She cam' tripping adown the stair,</div> - <div class="i1">And a' her maids before her;</div> - <div>As soon as they saw her weel-faur'd face</div> - <div class="i1">They cast the glamourie owre her;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They gave to her the nutmeg,</div> - <div class="i1">And they gave to her the ginger;</div> - <div>And she gave to them a far better thing,</div> - <div class="i1">The seven gold rings off her finger.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>There was a small black cobbled-up book entitled <i>Glamourie</i> in a red -leather case in Thrae, but, alas, it was in a writing I could not -easily decipher. On the fly-leaf was scrawled "H.B.", and beneath it -was the following:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>See, with eyes shut.</div> - <div>Look seldom behind thee.</div> - <div>In secret of selfship</div> - <div>Free thee, not bind thee.</div> - <div>Mark but a flower:</div> - <div>'Tis of Eden. A fly</div> - <div>Shall sound thee a horn</div> - <div>Wooing Paradise nigh.</div> - <div>Think close. Unto love</div> - <div>Give thy heart's steed the rein;</div> - <div>So—course the World over:</div> - <div>Then homeward again.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[532]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="note_84"><a href="#sn_84">84</a>. "<span class="smcap">Whatever they find they take it.</span>" (line 21)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was a robber met a robber</div> - <div class="i2">On a rig of beans;</div> - <div>Says a robber to a robber,</div> - <div>"Can a robber tell a robber</div> - <div class="i2">What a robber means?"</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And if not; why not? I had never seen this scrap of jingle until Mr. -Ralph Hodgson gave it me. And the following version of an old game -rhyme (with its rare "wood") first met my eye by the kindness of -another friend, Mrs. Lyon:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"My Mother said that I never should</div> - <div>Play with the gypsies in the wood,</div> - <div>The wood was dark; the grass was green;</div> - <div>In came Sally with a tambourine.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I went to the sea—no ship to get across;</div> - <div>I paid ten shillings for a blind white horse;</div> - <div>I up on his back and was off in a crack,</div> - <div>Sally, tell my Mother I shall never come back."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_86"><a href="#sn_86">86</a>.</h4> - -<p>This lament for matchless Robin Hood, who should shine in a far better -place than between "Beggars" and "Gilderoy," is the only rhyme about -him in this collection. The fact is, try as I might, I could not make -up my mind which I liked best of his old greenwood ballads in Mr. -Nahum's book. The oldest and best were all in formidable spelling, the -most of them were long, and maybe I was at last a little lazy. They are -all to be found in Professor Child. And if leaving out the merry outlaw -will persuade anyone to get and read <i>English and Scottish Ballads</i>, I -shall have omitted him to good purpose.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_87"><a href="#sn_87">87</a>. "<span class="smcap">Gilderoy.</span>"</h4> - -<p>A pretty song about a monstrously ugly scoundrel, though handsome of -feature. Gilderoy was a highwayman, sparing for his prey neither man -nor woman, and if there were "roses" on his shoes, they were blood-red. -At last fifty armed avengers surrounded his house at night and set -on. He killed eight of them before he was captured; which, if true, -was bonnie fighting. Nevertheless, such a villain he was that he was -hanged,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[533]</a></span> without trial, on a gibbet thirty feet high, and the bones of -him (despite the last stanza of the ballad) dangled in chains forty -feet above Leith Walk in Edinburgh for fifty years afterwards.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_88"><a href="#sn_88">88</a>. "<span class="smcap">And his name was Little Bingo.</span>"</h4> - -<p>In bounding health, it is said, a dog's nose and a woman's elbow are -always cold. The reason for which is explained in a legend (referred -to in Mrs. Wright's <i>Rustic Speech and Folk Lore</i>). It seems that in -the midst of its forty days' riding on the Flood, the Ark one black -night sprung a little leak. Father Noah having forgotten to bring -his carpenter's bag on board, was at his wits' end to plug the hole -in its timbers. In the beam of his rushlight he looked and he looked -and he looked; and still the water came rilling in and in. His dog, -Shafet, was of course standing by, head on one side, carefully watching -his master. And Noah, by good chance, at last casting his eye in his -direction, seized the faithful creature and, thrusting his nose into -the leak, for a while stopped the flow. But Noah, a merciful man, -and partial to animals, quickly perceived that in a few minutes poor -Shafet would perish of suffocation, and as, by this time, his wife -had descended into the fo'c'sle to see what he was about, he released -his dog's nose, and, instead of it, stuffed in her charming elbow. -<span class="smcap">Q.E.D.</span></p> - -<p>But not all dogs are as ready—as Launce in <i>The Two Gentlemen of -Verona</i> knew:</p> - -<p>"<i>Launce</i>: 'Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I have done weeping. All -the kinde of the <i>Launces</i>, have this very fault: I have received my -proportion, like the prodigious Sonne, and am going with Sir <i>Protheus</i> -to the Imperialls Court: I thinke <i>Crab</i> my dog, be the sowrest natured -dogge that lives: My Mother weeping: my Father wayling: my Sister -crying: our Maid howling: our Catte wringing her hands, and all our -house in a great perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted <i>Curre</i> -shedde one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no more -pitty in him then a dogge!"</p> - - -<h4 id="note_90"><a href="#sn_90">90</a>. "<span class="smcap">Poor old Horse.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In the furrowed land</div> - <div>The toilsome and patient oxen stand.</div> - <div>Lifting the yoke-encumbered head,</div> - <div>With their dilated nostrils spread,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[534]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They silently inhale</div> - <div>The clover-scented gale,</div> - <div>And the vapours that arise</div> - <div>From the well-watered and smoking soil.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For this rest in the furrow after toil</div> - <div>Their large and lustrous eyes</div> - <div>Seem to thank the Lord,</div> - <div>More than man's spoken word.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">H. W. Longfellow</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_91"><a href="#sn_91">91</a>. "<span class="smcap">Ay me, Alas.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Messalina's monkey was, I should fancy, of the kind called a marmoset, -"blacke and greene." "Their agilitie and manner of doing is admirable, -for that they seeme to have reason and discourse to go upon trees, -wherein they seeme to imitate birds." There are so few of these far -fair cousins of ours in poetry that I cannot forbear adding a note of -Mr. Nahum's from Sir John Maundeville's <i>Travels</i>.</p> - -<p>" ... From that City, (that is to say Cassay—the City of Heaven), men -go by Water, solacing and disporting themselves, till they come to -an Abbey of Monks—that is fast by—that be good religious men after -their Faith and Law. In that Abbey is a great Garden and a fair, where -be many Trees of diverse manner of Fruits. And in this Garden, is a -little Hill, full of delectable Trees. In that Hill and in that Garden -be many divers Beasts, as of Apes, Marmosets, Baboons, and many other -divers Beasts. And every day, when the Monks of this Abbey have eaten, -the Almoner has the remnants carried forth into the Garden, and he -smiteth on the Garden Gate with a Clicket of Silver that he holdeth -in his hand, and anon all the Beasts of the Hill and of divers places -of the Garden, come out, a 3000 or a 4000 of them; they approach as -if they were poor men come a-begging; and the Almoner's servants give -them the remnants, in fair Vessels of Silver, clean over gilt. And when -they have eaten, the Monk smiteth eftsoons on the Garden Gate with the -Clicket; and then anon all the Beasts return again to their places that -they came from. And they say that these Beasts be Souls of worthy men, -that resemble in likeness the Beasts that be fair: and therefore they -give them meat for the love of God."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[535]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_92"><a href="#sn_92">92</a>. "<span class="smcap">O Happy Fly.</span>"</h4> - -<p>And here is another of these creatures—"a sleepy fly that rubs its -hands," in Mr. Hardy's words—William Blake's:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Little Fly,</div> - <div>Thy summer's play</div> - <div>My thoughtless hand</div> - <div>Has brushed away.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Am not I</div> - <div>A fly like thee?</div> - <div>Or art not thou</div> - <div>A man like me?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For I dance,</div> - <div>And drink, and sing,</div> - <div>Till some blind hand</div> - <div>Shall brush my wing.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If thought is life</div> - <div>And strength and breath,</div> - <div>And the want</div> - <div>Of thought is death;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then am I</div> - <div>A happy fly,</div> - <div>If I live</div> - <div>Or if I die.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>But the Happy Fly is nowadays gone so dismally out of favour that it -would perhaps be prudent to draw attention from him to Lovelace's -"Grasshopper":</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O thou that swing'st upon the waving hair</div> - <div class="i1">Of some well-fillèd oaten beard,</div> - <div>Drunk every night with a delicious tear</div> - <div class="i1">Dropt thee from heaven, where thou wert reared!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The joys of earth and air are thine entire,</div> - <div class="i1">That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly;</div> - <div>And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire</div> - <div class="i1">To thy carved acorn-bed to lie.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Up with the day, the Sun thou welcom'st then,</div> - <div class="i1">Sport'st in the gilt plaits of his beams,</div> - <div>And all these merry days mak'st merry men,</div> - <div class="i1">Thyself, and melancholy streams.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[536]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_93"><a href="#sn_93">93</a>. "<span class="smcap">Lo, the Bright Air Alive With Dragonflies.</span>"</h4> - -<p>There is an old dialect children's rhyme about these lightlike -shimmering <i>stingless</i> insects:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Snakestanger, snakestanger, vlee aal about the brooks;</div> - <div>Sting aal the bad bwoys that vor the fish looks,</div> - <div>Bút let the góod bwoys ketch aál the vish they can,</div> - <div>And car'm away whooam to vry 'em in a pan;</div> - <div>Bread and butter they shall yeat at zupper wi' their vish</div> - <div>While aal the littull bad bwoys shall only lick the dish.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And here is yet another rhyme on the <i>Firefly</i> (from Du Bartas), which -I have borrowed (with other passages as curious) from a mine of such -things, <i>Animal Lore of Shakespeare's Time</i>, by Miss Emma Phipson:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"New-Spain's <i>cucuio</i>, in his forehead brings</div> - <div>Two burning lamps, two underneath his wings:</div> - <div>Whose shining rayes serve oft, in darkest night,</div> - <div>Th' imbroderer's hand in royall works to light:</div> - <div>Th' ingenious turner, with a wakefull eye,</div> - <div>To polish fair his purest ivory:</div> - <div>The usurer to count his glistring treasures:</div> - <div>The learned scribe to limn his golden measures."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>"There is a kind of little animal of the size of prawnes," says -Champlain of these tiny winged things, "which fly by night, and make -such light in the air that one would say that they were so many little -candles. If a man had three or four of these little creatures, which -are not larger than a filbert, he could read as well at night as with a -wax light."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_95"><a href="#sn_95">95</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Sale of the Pet Lamb.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"The Pet Lamb" by William Wordsworth is certainly of a more delicate -light and colour and music than this poem. But it is much better known. -And there is a secret something in the words of Mary Howitt's that wins -one at once to love the writer of it.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_98"><a href="#sn_98">98</a>.</h4> - -<p>This is another translation by Kuno Meyer from the ancient Irish—just -the bare bones, that is, of a poem that in its original tongue must -have been many times more musical with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[537]</a></span> rhyme and gentle echo and -cadence; for the craft of Gaelic verse was an exceedingly delicate one.</p> - -<p>I like it for the sake of its cat, its monk, and its age, but chiefly -because it reminds me of my own faraway days at Thrae—brooding up -there in solitude and silence over Mr. Nahum's books.</p> - -<p>As for "white Pangur" and his kind, "it is needlesse," says Topsell, -"to spend any time about [Puss's] loving nature to man, how she -flattereth by rubbing her skinne against ones legges, how she whurleth -with her voyce, having as many tunes as turnes; for she hath one voice -to beg and to complain, another to testifie her delight and pleasure, -another among her own kind by flattring, by hissing, by spitting, -insomuch as some have thought that they have a peculiar intelligible -language among themselves." So also John de Trevisa, in 1387: "The -catte is a beaste of uncerten heare (hair) and colour; for some catte -is white, some rede, some blacke, some skewed (piebald) and speckled -in the fete and in the face and in the eares. He is a beste in youth, -swyfte, plyaunte, and mery, and lepeth and reseth (rusheth) on all -thynge that is tofore him; and is led by a strawe and playeth -therwith. He is a right hevy beast in aege, and ful slepy, and lyeth -slily in wait for myce. And he maketh a ruthefull noyse and gastfull, -whan one proffreth to fyghte with another, and he falleth on his owne -fete whan he falleth out of hye places."</p> - -<p>The writings of the ancient Egyptians show that, far from detesting to -wet his paws, he would then <i>swim</i> in pursuit of fish. They painted -a cat for the sound "miaou" in their hieroglyphics; gazed into his -changing moon-like eyes and revered him; and embalmed him when dead.</p> - -<p>Having borrowed him from Egypt, the Romans brought him to Britain -(though we already had a wilding of our own, <i>Felis Catus</i>'), with the -ass, the goat, the rabbit, the peacock, not to speak of the cherry, the -walnut, the crocus, the tulip, the leek, the cucumber, etc. The Monk's -Pangur, then, came of a long lineage.</p> - -<p>So valuable were cats in <i>Wales</i> in the eleventh century (two or three -hundred years after Pangur), that their price was fixed by law: for -a blind kitten a penny; for a kitten with its eyes open, twopence; -for a cat of one mouse, fourpence, and so on. And to kill one of the -Prince's granary cats meant payment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[538]</a></span> of a fine of as much wheat as -would cover up its body when suspended by its tail. In Scotland there -has long been a complete Clan of Cats—apart from the witches. As for -the Cheshire Cat, he grins, I imagine, not because he has nine lives, -is said to be melancholy, may look at a king, and has nothing to do -with Catgut, Cat's cradle, and Cat-i'-the-pan, but because he has -read in a dictionary that Dick Whittington sailed off to the Isle of -Rats, not with a Cat, but with <i>acat</i> or <i>achat</i>, meaning goods for -trading—Coals! Long may he grin! How but one country Gib or Tom may -befriend the brightfaced Heartsease (so sturdy a little dear that it -will bloom at burning noonday in a gravel path) Charles Darwin tells in -his "<i>Origin of Species</i>," p. 57.</p> - -<p>His "loving nature" to creatures <i>other</i> than man and the heartsease is -referred to in the following old Scots nursery rhyme:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was a wee bit mousikie,</div> - <div class="i1">That lived in Gilberaty, O,</div> - <div>It couldna get a bite o' cheese,</div> - <div class="i1">For cheetie-poussie-cattie, O.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It said unto the cheesikie,</div> - <div class="i1">"Oh fain wad I be at ye, O,</div> - <div>If 't were na for the cruel paws</div> - <div class="i1">O' cheetie-poussie-cattie, O."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_99"><a href="#sn_99">99</a>. "<span class="smcap">On What Wings Dare He Aspire.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The verb <i>dare</i> (I gather from Webster) was once used only in the past -tense, the preterite; for "dare he" therefore in this poem we should -now write <i>dared he</i>.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_100"><a href="#sn_100">100</a>.</h4> - -<p>Andrew Marvell has three rare charms—his poetry is wholly his own; it -is as delightful as the sound of his name; and the face in his portrait -is as enchanting as either.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_101"><a href="#sn_101">101</a>-2.</h4> - -<p>The Phillip of these two poems is, I suppose, the hedge-sparrow or -dunnock, that gentle and happy little cousin of the warblers—as light -and lovely in voice as they are on the wing. As everyone knows, a -bullfinch can be taught to whistle like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[539]</a></span> baker's boy, and will become -so jealous of his mistress that he will hiss and ruff with rage at -every stranger. Jackdaws and magpies, too, will become friends to a -friend. But a lady whom I have the happiness to know has a nightingale -that was hatched in captivity, and so has never shared either the -delights or the dangers of the wild. So easy is he in her company that -he will perch on her pen-tip as she sits at table, and sing as if out -of a garden in Damascus.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_102"><a href="#sn_102">102</a>. "<span class="smcap">He Would Chirp.</span>"</h4> - -<p>" ... As she (St. Douceline) sat at meat, if anyone brought her a -flower, a bird, a fruit, or any other thing that gave her pleasure, -then she fell straightway into an ecstasy, and was caught up to Him Who -had made these fair creatures.... One day she heard a lonely sparrow -sing, whereupon she said to her companions, 'How lonely is the song of -that bird!' and in the twinkling of an eye she was in an ecstasy, drawn -up to God by the bird's voice...."</p> - -<p>The above is from <i>A Medieval Garner</i>, and this, from a Note to "A -Saint's Tragedy," by Margaret L. Woods: When the blessed Elizabeth -"had been ill twelve days and more, one of her maids sitting by her -bed heard in her throat a very sweet sound, ... and saying, 'Oh, my -mistress, how sweetly thou didst sing!' she answered, 'I tell thee, I -heard a little bird between me and the wall sing merrily; who with his -sweet song so stirred me up that I could not but sing myself.'"</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Loving Redbreasts.</span>" (line 31)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My dear, do you know</div> - <div>How a long time ago,</div> - <div class="i1">Two poor little children,</div> - <div>Whose names I don't know,</div> - <div>Were stolen away</div> - <div>On a fine summer's day,</div> - <div class="i1">And left in a wood,</div> - <div>As I've heard people say.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And when it was night,</div> - <div>So sad was their plight,</div> - <div class="i1">The sun it went down,</div> - <div>And the moon gave no light!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[540]</a></span></div> - <div>They sobbed and they sighed,</div> - <div>And they bitterly cried,</div> - <div class="i1">And the poor little things,</div> - <div>They laid down and died.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And when they were dead,</div> - <div>The robins so red</div> - <div class="i1">Brought strawberry leaves,</div> - <div>And over them spread;</div> - <div>And all the day long,</div> - <div>They sang them this song,—</div> - <div>Poor babes in the wood!</div> - <div>Poor babes in the wood!</div> - <div class="i1">And don't you remember</div> - <div>The babes in the wood?</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_105"><a href="#sn_105">105</a>. "'<span class="smcap">Tis a Note of Enchantment.</span>"</h4> - -<p>It was a note of enchantment such as this that haunted the memory of -Edward Thomas when he was writing his poem called <i>The Unknown Bird.</i> I -give only a few lines, but the rest of the beautiful thing may be found -in his <i>Poems</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">Oftenest when I heard him I was alone,</div> - <div class="i3">Nor could I ever make another hear.</div> - <div class="i3">La-la-la! he called seeming far-off—</div> - <div class="i3">As if a cock crowed past the edge of the world,</div> - <div class="i3">As if the bird or I were in a dream....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... O wild-raving winds! if you ever do roar</div> - <div class="i1">By the house and the elms from where I've a-come,</div> - <div>Breathe up at the window, or call at the door,</div> - <div class="i1">And tell you've a found me a-thinking of home."</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Barnes</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_107"><a href="#sn_107">107</a>. "<span class="smcap">Like a Lady Bright.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"They say," says Ophelia, "they say the owle was a Baker's daughter. -Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your -Table." And thus runs the story:</p> - -<p>Our Saviour being footsore, weary and hungry one darkening evening, -went into a baker's shop and asked for bread. The oven being then hot -and all prepared for the baking, the mistress of the shop cut off a -good-sized piece of the risen dough to bake for him. At this her fair, -greedy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[541]</a></span> daughter, who sate watching what was forward from a little -window, upbraided her mother for this wasting of profit on such an -outcast; and taking the platter out of her hands, she chopped the piece -of dough into half, and half, and half again. Nevertheless when this -mean small lump was put into the oven, it presently began miraculously -to rise and swell until it exceeded a full quartern of wheaten bread. -In alarm at this strange sight the daughter—her round blue eyes -largely eyeing the stranger in the dim light—turned on her mother, and -cried out: "O Mother, Mother, <i>Heugh, heugh, heugh</i>." "As thou hast -spoken," said our Saviour, "so be thou: child of the Night." Whereupon, -the poor creature, feathered and in the likeness of an owl, fled forth -into the dark towards the woodside.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_109"><a href="#sn_109">109</a>. "<span class="smcap">The White Owl.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When night is o'er the wood</div> - <div class="i1">And moon-scared watch-dogs howl,</div> - <div>Comes forth in search of food</div> - <div class="i1">The snowy mystic owl.</div> - <div>His soft, white, ghostly wings</div> - <div class="i1">Beat noiselessly the air</div> - <div>Like some lost soul that hopelessly</div> - <div class="i1">Is mute in its despair.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But now his hollow note</div> - <div class="i1">Rings cheerless through the glade</div> - <div>And o'er the silent moat</div> - <div class="i1">He flits from shade to shade.</div> - <div>He hovers, swoops and glides</div> - <div class="i1">O'er meadows, moors and streams;</div> - <div>He seems to be some fantasy—</div> - <div class="i1">A ghostly bird of dreams.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Why dost thou haunt the night?</div> - <div class="i1">Why dost thou love the moon</div> - <div>When other birds delight</div> - <div class="i1">To sing their joy at noon?</div> - <div>Art thou then crazed with love,</div> - <div class="i1">Or is't for some fell crime</div> - <div>That thus thou flittest covertly</div> - <div class="i1">At this unhallowed time?</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">F. J. Patmore</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[542]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_111"><a href="#sn_111">111</a>. "<span class="smcap">Her small Soul.</span>" (line 23)</h4> - -<p><i>Smallest</i> of all shrill souls among the English birds is the wren, but -she has a remote relative that dwells in the dark and enormous forests -of South America, the Humming Bird, and simply for their own sakes I -cannot resist borrowing two more fragments from Miss Phipson's <i>Animal -Lore</i>. The first comes out of Purchas's <i>Pilgrimes</i>, and was written by -Antonia Galvano of New Spain:</p> - -<p>"There be certaine small birds named <i>vicmalim</i>, their bil is small and -long. They live of the dew, and the juyce of flowers and roses. Their -feathers bee small and of divers colours. They be greatly esteemed -to worke gold with. They die or sleepe every yeere in the moneth of -October, sitting upon a little bough in a warme and close place: they -revive or wake againe in the moneth of April after that the flowers be -sprung, and therefore they call them the revived birds—<i>Vicmalim</i>."</p> - -<p>The second is Gonzalo Ferdinando de Oviedo's—his very name a string of -gems:</p> - -<p>" ... I have seene that one of these birds with her nest put into a -paire of gold weights [scales] altogether, hath waide no more then a -<i>tomini</i>, which are in poise 24 graines, with the feathers, without -the which she would have waied somewhat less. And doubtlesse, when I -consider the finenesse of the clawes and feete of these birds, I know -not whereunto I may better liken them then to the little birds which -the lymners of bookes are accustomed to paint on the margent of church -bookes, and other bookes of divine service. Their feathers are of manie -faire colours, as golden, yellow, and greene, beside other variable -colours. Their beake is verie long for the proportion of their bodies, -and as fine and subtile as a sowing needle. They are verie hardy, so -that when they see a man clime the tree where they have their nests, -they fly at his face, and strike him in the eyes, comming, going, and -returning with such swiftnesse, that no man should lightly beleeve it -that had not seene it...."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_112"><a href="#sn_112">112</a>. "<span class="smcap">It caught His Image</span>"</h4> - -<p>And Shelley:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... I cannot tell my joy, when o'er a lake</div> - <div>Upon a drooping bough with nightshade twined,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[543]</a></span></div> - <div>I saw two azure halcyons clinging downward</div> - <div>And thinning one bright bunch of amber berries,</div> - <div>With quick long beaks, and in the deep there lay</div> - <div>Those lovely forms imaged as in a sky....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>Anyone so happy as to be able to remember Mary Coleridge as a friend, -will agree that to have seen her eyes is to have seen her own pool and -Shelley's lake, imaging such lovely flitting halcyons.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_114"><a href="#sn_114">114</a>. "<span class="smcap">King Pandion he is dead.</span>"</h4> - -<p>A wild and dreadful legend is hidden here—of a King who wronged his -Queen and her sister, daughters of Pandion, and how they avenged -themselves upon him, sacrificing his son to their hatred. That Queen, -goes this old tale, became a nightingale, her sister a swallow (crimson -still dying the feathers of her throat), the evil king a hoopoe, and -the firstborn was raised to life again a pheasant.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_115"><a href="#sn_115">115</a>. "<span class="smcap">A Sparhawk Proud</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—a little bird but of a noble family. Listen, at least, to Auceps, -the Faulkner or Falconer, in "<i>The Compleat Angler</i>." [I have inserted -a few full stops in a sentence that has none] " ... And first, for -the Element that I use to trade in, which is the Air, an Element of -more worth than weight, an Element that doubtless exceeds both the -Earth and Water; for though I sometimes deal in both; yet the Air is -most properly mine, I and my Hawks use that most, and it yields us -most recreation. It stops not the high soaring of my noble generous -<i>Falcon</i>; in it she ascends to such an height, as the dull eyes of -beasts and fish are not able to reach to; their bodies are too gross -for such high elevations. In the Air my troops of Hawks soar up on -high, and when they are lost in the sight of men, then they attend upon -and converse with the gods, therefore I think my <i>Eagle</i> is so justly -styled, Joves servant in Ordinary. And that very Falcon, that I am now -going to see, deserves no meaner a title, for she usually in her flight -endangers her self, (like the son of <i>Daedalus</i>), to have her wings -scorched by the Suns heat, she flyes so near it. But her mettle makes -her careless of danger, for she then heeds nothing, but makes her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[544]</a></span> -nimble Pinions cut the fluid air, and so makes her high way over the -steepest mountains and deepest rivers, and in her glorious carere looks -with contempt upon those high Steeples and magnificent Palaces which -we adore and wonder at; from which height I can make her to descend by -a word from my mouth (which she both knows and obeys), to accept of -meat from my hand, to own me for her Master, to go home with me, and be -willing the next day to afford me the like recreation...."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_120"><a href="#sn_120">120</a>. "<span class="smcap">Come Wary One.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Tak any brid,<a name="FNanchor_213_213" id="FNanchor_213_213"></a><a href="#Footnote_213_213" class="fnanchor">[213]</a> and put it in a cage,</div> - <div>And do al thyn entente and thy corage</div> - <div>To fostre it tendrely with mete and drinke,</div> - <div>Of allè deyntees that thou canst bithinke,</div> - <div>And keep it al-so clenly as thou may;</div> - <div>Al-though his cage of gold be never so gay,</div> - <div>Yet hath this brid, by twenty thousand fold,</div> - <div>Lever in a forest, that is rude and cold,</div> - <div>Gon eté wormés and seich wrecchednesse.</div> - <div>For ever this brid wol doon his bisinesse</div> - <div>To escape out of his cagė, if he may;</div> - <div>His libertee this brid desireth ay....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Geoffrey Chaucer</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>When I was a child of eight or nine I had a kind of passion for -sparrows, and used to set traps for them; but even if I succeeded in -taking one alive, which was not always, I could never persuade it to -live in a cage above a day or two, however much I pampered it. It -drooped and died. Then, like a young crocodile, I occasionally shed -tears. One fine morning, I remember, I visited a distant trap and, as -usual, all but stopped breathing at discovering that it was "down." -Very cautiously edging in my fingers towards the captive, I was -startled out of my wits by a sudden prodigious skirring of wings, and -lo and behold, I had caught—and lost—a starling. He fled away twenty -yards or so, and perched on a hillock. I see him now, his feathers -glistening in the sun, and his sharp head turned towards me, his eyes -looking back at me, as if foe at foe. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[545]</a></span> that reminds me of the -Griffons—the guardians of the mines of the one-eyed Arimaspians.</p> - -<p>" ... From that land go men toward the land of Bacharie, where be -full evil folk and full cruel.... In that country be many griffounes, -more plentiful than in any other country. Some men say that they have -the body upward as an eagle, and beneath as a lion; and truly they -say sooth that they be of that shape. But a griffoun hath the body -more great, and is more strong, than eight lions, of such lions as be -on this side of the world; and larger and stronger than an hundred -eagles, such as we have amongst us. For a griffoun there will bear -flying to his nest a great horse, if he may find him handy, or two -oxen yoked together, as they go at the plough. For he hath his talons -so long and so broad and great upon his feet, as though they were -homes of great oxen, or of bugles (bullocks), or of kine; so that men -make cups of them, to drink out of. And of their ribs, and the quills -of their wings, men make bows full strong, to shoot with arrows and -bow-bolts...."</p> - -<p>But a griffoun is only a gigantic starling, so to speak; and it's a -pity mine and I were enemies. "If a sparrow come before my window," -wrote John Keats in one of his letters, "I take part in its existence, -and pick about the gravel." Brick-traps are little help in this.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A Robin Redbreast in a cage</div> - <div>Puts all Heaven in a rage ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A Skylark wounded in the wing,</div> - <div>A Cherubim does cease to sing ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The wild Deer wandering here and there</div> - <div>Keeps the Human Soul from care ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He who shall hurt the little Wren</div> - <div>Shall never be beloved by Men ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The wanton Boy that kills the Fly</div> - <div>Shall feel the Spider's enmity ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,</div> - <div>For the Last Judgment draweth nigh ...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Beggar's Dog and Widow's Cat,</div> - <div>Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat ...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[546]</a></span></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To see a World in a Grain of Sand,</div> - <div>And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,</div> - <div>Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,</div> - <div>And Eternity in an hour.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... What is heaven? a globe of dew,</div> - <div>Filling in the morning new</div> - <div class="i1">Some eyed flower whose young leaves waken</div> - <div>On an unimagined world:</div> - <div class="i1">Constellated suns unshaken,</div> - <div>Orbits measureless, are furled</div> - <div class="i1">In that frail and fading sphere,</div> - <div class="i1">With ten millions gathered there,</div> - <div class="i1">To tremble, gleam, and disappear.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>The men who wrote these words, truly and solemnly meant them. They are -not mere pretty flowers of the fancy, but the tough piercing roots of -the tree of life that grew within their minds.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_126"><a href="#sn_126">126</a>. "<span class="smcap">Come unto these Yellow Sands.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This poem and many others I copied out of Mr. Nahum's book in their -original spelling. At first I found the reading of some of them very -troublesome. It was like looking at a dried-up flower or beetle. But -there the things were; and after a good deal of trouble I not only -began to read them more easily, but grew to like them thus for their -own sake. First, because this was as they were actually written, before -our English printers agreed to spell alike; and next, because the old -words with their look of age became a pleasure to me in themselves. It -was like watching the dried-up flower or beetle actually and as if by a -magic of the mind coming to life. Besides, many of Shakespeare's small -poems were already known to me. It touched them with newness to see -them (though indeed <i>he</i> never so saw them), as they appeared (seven -years after his death), in the pages of the famous folio volume of his -<i>Plays</i> that was printed in 1623 by Isaac Jaggard and Edward Blount.</p> - -<p>Not only that; for it is curious too to see how in the old days English -was constantly changing—its faded words falling like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[547]</a></span> dead leaves from -a tree, and new ones appearing. In a book which William Caxton printed -as far back even as 1490, he says: "And certainly our language now -used varieth far from that which was used and spoken when I was born. -For we Englishmen be born under the domination of the moon, which is -never steadfast but ever wavering, waxing one season and waneth and -decreaseth another season." So in our own day words, like human beings, -come into the world and pass away: and many gradually change their -meanings.</p> - -<p>For if the spelling of a word alters its effect on the eye, it must -also affect the <i>mind</i> of the reader; and I must confess that "my -lovynge deare," looks to me to tell of somebody more lovable even than -"my loving dear." And what about shoogar-plummes, cleere greye eies, -the murrkie fogghe, the moones enravysshynge?</p> - -<p>And what about—</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Let's goe to Bedde," says Sleepihed;</div> - <div>"Tarrie a while," says Slowe;</div> - <div>"Putte on the Panne," says Greedie Nanne,</div> - <div>"Wee'll suppe afore wee goe."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>Not that I have <i>always</i> kept to the old spellings. I have followed my -fancy; and if anyone would like to see an old poem in its first looks -that is here printed in our own way, all he need do is to go back to -the book in which it first appeared.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_128"><a href="#sn_128">128</a>. "<span class="smcap">Shee carries Me above the Skie.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... This palace standeth in the air,</div> - <div>By necromancy placèd there,</div> - <div>That it no tempest needs to fear,</div> - <div class="i2">Which way soe'er it blow it;</div> - <div>And somewhat southward toward the noon,</div> - <div>Whence lies a way up to the moon,</div> - <div>And thence the Fairy can as soon</div> - <div class="i2">Pass to the earth below it.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The walls of spiders' legs are made</div> - <div>Well mortisèd and finely laid;</div> - <div>He was the master of his trade</div> - <div class="i2">It curiously that builded:</div> - <div>The windows of the eyes of cats,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[548]</a></span></div> - <div>And for the roof, instead of slats,</div> - <div>Is covered with the skins of bats,</div> - <div class="i2">With moonshine that are gilded....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Michael Drayton</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_129"><a href="#sn_129">129</a>. <span class="smcap">"Who Calls?</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Such a soft floating witchery of sound</div> - <div>As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve</div> - <div>Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land,</div> - <div>Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers,</div> - <div>Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise,</div> - <div>Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untamed wing!...</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">S. T. Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_133"><a href="#sn_133">133</a>. "<span class="smcap">For Fear of Little Men.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"Terrestrial devils," says Robert Burton, "are those Lares, Genii, -Fauns, Satyrs, Wood-nymphs, Foliots, Fairies, Robin Goodfellows, -Trulli, etc., which as they are most conversant with men, so they do -them most harm.... These are they that dance on heaths and greens ... -and leave that green circle, which we commonly find in plain fields, -which others hold to proceed from a meteor falling, or some accidental -rankness of the ground, so nature sports herself; they are sometimes -seen by old women and children.... Paracelsus reckons up many places -in Germany, where they do usually walk in little coats, some two -feet long. A bigger kind there is of them called with us hobgoblins, -and Robin Goodfellows, that would in those superstitious times grind -corn for a mess of milk, cut wood, or do any manner of drudgery work. -They would mend old irons in those Aeolian isles of Lipari, in former -ages, and have been often seen and heard.... Dithmarus Bleskenius, -in his description of Iceland, reports for a certainty, that almost -in every family they have yet some such familiar spirits.... Another -sort of these there are, which frequent forlorn houses.... They will -make strange noises in the night, howl sometimes pitifully, and then -laugh again, cause great flame and sudden lights, fling stones, rattle -chains, shave men, open doors and shut them, fling down platters, -stools, chests, sometimes appear in the likeness of hares, crows, black -dogs, etc." ...</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[549]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_135"><a href="#sn_135">135</a>.</h4> - -<p>So too with Hazel Dorn, in the following poem by Mr. Bernard Sleigh, -who has most kindly allowed me to print it here for the first time.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>They stole her from the well beside the wood.</div> - <div>Ten years ago as village gossips tell;</div> - <div>One Beltane-eve when trees were all a-bud</div> - <div class="i4">In copse and fell.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ominous, vast, the moon rose full and red</div> - <div>Behind dim hills; no leaf stirred in the glen</div> - <div>That breathless eve, when she was pixy-led</div> - <div class="i4">Beyond our ken.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For she had worn no rowan in her hair,—</div> - <div>Nor set the cream-bowl by the kitchen door,—</div> - <div>Nor whispered low the pagan faery prayer</div> - <div class="i4">Of ancient lore;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But trod that daisied ring in hose and shoon,</div> - <div>To hear entranced, their elf-bells round her ring;</div> - <div>The wizard spells about her wail and croon</div> - <div class="i4">With gathering string.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Swiftly her arms they bound in gossamer,</div> - <div>With elvish lures they held her soul in thrall;</div> - <div>With wizard sorceries enveloped her</div> - <div class="i4">Past cry or call.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A passing shepherd caught his breath to see</div> - <div>A golden mist of moving wings and lights</div> - <div>Swirl upwards past the red moon eeriely</div> - <div class="i4">To starlit heights.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>While far off carollings half drowned a cry,</div> - <div>Mournful, remote, of "Mother, Mother dear,"</div> - <div>Floating across the drifting haze,—a sigh</div> - <div class="i4">"Farewell, Farewell!"</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>In the small hours of Beltane or May Day, vast fires have been wont to -be kindled on the hills of the Highlands—a custom old as the Druids. -Mr. Gilbert Sheldon tells me that as lately as 1899 he saw the hills -round Glengariff ablaze with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[550]</a></span> them. They must be set aflame with what -is called need-fire. And need-fire is made by nine men twisting a -wimble of wood in a balk of oak until the friction makes sparks fly. -With these they ignite dry agaric, a fungus that grows on birch-trees, -and soon the blaze is reddening the countryside under the night-sky. -Need-fire in a window-nook or carried in a lantern is—like iron—an -invincible defence against witches and witchcraft. Beltane cakes—to -be eaten whilst squatting on the hills, or dancing and watching the -fire—are made out of a caudle of eggs, butter, oatmeal and milk.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">No Rowan in her Hair.</span>"</h4> - -<p>So potent is the flower or berry or wood of the rowan or witchwood -or quicken or whicken-tree or mountain ash against the wiles of the -elf-folk, that dairymaids use it for cream-stirrers and cowherds for a -switch.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Rowan-tree and red thread</div> - <div>Gar the Witches tyne their speed.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_136"><a href="#sn_136">136</a>. "<span class="smcap">True Thomas.</span>"</h4> - -<p>There are four copies in handwriting—two of them written about -1450—of a rhymed romance telling how Thomas in his youth, while -dreaming daydreams under the Eildon Tree, was met and greeted by the -Queen of fair Elfland. The ballad on p. 127 has been passed on from -mouth to mouth.</p> - -<p>Up to our own grandmothers' day, at least, this Thomas Rhymour of -Ercildoune—a village nor far distant from where the Leader joins the -Tweed—was famous as a Wise One and a Seer (a See-er—with the inward -eye). He lived seven centuries ago, between 1210 and 1297. Years -after he had returned from Elfland—as the ballad tells—while he sat -feasting in his Castle, news was brought to him that a hart and a hind, -having issued out of the forest, were to be seen stepping fair and -softly down the stony street of the town, to the marvel of the people. -At this, Thomas at once rose from among his guests; left the table; -made down to the street; followed after these strange summoners: and -was seen again no more.</p> - -<p>"Ilka tett," line 7, means every twist or plait; a "fairlie," stanza -II, is a wonder, mystery, marvel; and the "coat" in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[551]</a></span> the last stanza, -being of "even cloth," was finer than the finest <i>napless</i> damask.</p> - -<p>So, too, Young Tamlane, when a boy "just turned of nine," was carried -off by the Elfin Queen:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Ae fatal morning I went out</div> - <div class="i1">Dreading nae injury,</div> - <div>And thinking lang, fell soun asleep</div> - <div class="i1">Beneath an apple tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then by it came the Elfin Queen</div> - <div class="i1">And laid her hand on me;</div> - <div>And from that time since ever I mind</div> - <div class="i1">I've been in her companie....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>He seems to have been an outlandish and unhuman creature—if this next -rhyme tells of him truly (<i>gait</i>, meaning road; <i>pin</i>, (?) knife; -<i>coft</i>, bought; <i>moss</i>, peat-bog; and <i>boonmost</i>—you can guess):</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tam o' the linn came up the gait,</div> - <div>Wi' twenty puddings on a plate,</div> - <div>And every pudding had a pin,</div> - <div>"We'll eat them a'," quo' Tam o' the linn.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tam o' the linn had nae breeks to wear,</div> - <div>He coft him a sheep's-skin to make him a pair,</div> - <div>The fleshy side out, the woolly side in,</div> - <div>"It's fine summer cleeding," quo' Tam o' the linn.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tam o' the linn he had three bairns,</div> - <div>They fell in the fire, in each others' arms;</div> - <div>"Oh," quo' the boonmost, "I've got a het skin;"</div> - <div>"It's better below," quo' Tam o' the linn.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tam o' the linn gaed to the moss,</div> - <div>To seek a stable to his horse;</div> - <div>The moss was open, and Tam fell in,</div> - <div>"I've stabled mysel'," quo' Tam o' the linn.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_138"><a href="#sn_138">138</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sabrina.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This song is from "Comus," a masque written by Milton for the -entertainment of the Earl of Bridgewater, lord lieutenant of Wales, at -Ludlow Castle in 1634. That Castle's Hall is now open to the sky—"the -lightning shines there; snow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[552]</a></span> burdens the ivy." From a neighbouring -room the two princes, Edward V. and his brother, went to their dark -death in the Tower. Below the ruinous Castle flow together the Terne -and the Corve, on their way to the great Severn—of which Sabrina, the -daughter of Estrildis, is the Nymph, she having been drowned in its -waters by Guendolen, the jealous queen of Locrine the son of Brut. -Estrildis herself, the daughter of King Humber, "so farre excelled in -bewtie, that none was then lightly found unto her comparable, for her -skin was so whyte that scarcely the fynest kind of Ivorie that might -be found, nor the snowe lately fallen downe from the Elament, nor the -Lylles did passe the same."</p> - -<p>Milton's poems—<i>Lycidas</i>, for instance—frequently resemble bunches of -keys, each one of them fitting the lock of some ancient myth or legend. -In the lines I have omitted from No. 138 are many such locks awaiting -the reader—a reference to the following tale of Glaucus, for example:</p> - -<p>There is a secret herb which, if nibbled by fish already gasping -to death in our air, gives them the power and cunning to slip back -through the grasses into their waters again. Of this herb Glaucus -tasted, and instantly his eyes dazzled in desire to share their green -transparent deeps. Whereupon the laughing divinities of the rivers gave -him sea-green hair, sleeking the stream, fins and a fish's tail, and -feasted him merrily. His story is told by Keats in the third book of -his <i>Endymion</i>, while Leucothea's, another reference, is to be found -in the fifth of the <i>Odyssey</i>. As for the Sirens, here is the counsel -Circe gave Ulysses, the while his seamen lay asleep the night after -they had returned in safety from Pluto's dismal mansions:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"... And then observe: They sit amidst a mead,</div> - <div>And round about it runs a hedge or wall</div> - <div>Of dead men's bones, their withered skins and all</div> - <div>Hung all along upon it; and these men</div> - <div>Were such as they had fawned into their fen,</div> - <div>And then their skins hung on their hedge of bones.</div> - <div>Sail by them therefore, thy companions</div> - <div>Beforehand causing to stop every ear</div> - <div>With sweet soft wax, so close that none may hear</div> - <div>A note of all their charmings...."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[553]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_139"><a href="#sn_139">139</a>.</h4> - -<p>These Songs are from the last act of "A Midsummer Night's Dream"—the -Duke and his guests are retired, and now sleep far from Life's Play; -and Puck and the fairies are abroad in his palace.</p> - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">I am sent with Broome before.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the cock begins to crow,</div> - <div>And the embers leave to glow,</div> - <div>And the owl cries, Tu-whit—Tu-whoo,</div> - <div class="i1">When crickets do sing</div> - <div class="i1">And mice roam about,</div> - <div class="i1">And midnight bells ring</div> - <div class="i1">To call the devout:</div> - <div class="i1">When the lazy lie sleeping</div> - <div class="i1">And think it no harm,</div> - <div class="i1">Their zeal is so cold</div> - <div class="i1">And their beds are so warm.</div> - <div>When the long—long lazy slut</div> - <div>Has not made the parlour clean,</div> - <div>No water on the hearth is put,</div> - <div>But all things in disorder seem;</div> - <div>Then we trip it round the room</div> - <div>And make like bees a drowsy hum.</div> - <div>Be she Betty, Nan, or Sue,</div> - <div>We make her of another hue</div> - <div class="i1">And pinch her black and blue.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>But when the Puritans came in, it seems, the fairies fled away. And -Richard Corbet bewailed their exile:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Farewell, rewards and fairies!"</div> - <div class="i1">Good housewives now may say,</div> - <div>For now foul sluts in dairies</div> - <div class="i1">Do fare as well as they.</div> - <div>And though they sweep their hearths no less</div> - <div class="i1">Than maids were wont to do,</div> - <div>Yet who of late, for cleanliness,</div> - <div class="i1">Finds sixpence in her shoe?...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At morning and at evening both</div> - <div class="i1">You merry were and glad;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[554]</a></span></div> - <div>So little care of sleep or sloth</div> - <div class="i1">These pretty ladies had;</div> - <div>When Tom came home from labour,</div> - <div class="i1">Or Ciss to milking rose,</div> - <div>Then merrily merrily went their tabour</div> - <div class="i1">And nimbly went their toes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Witness those rings and roundelays</div> - <div class="i1">Of theirs, which yet remain,</div> - <div>Were footed in Queen Mary's days</div> - <div class="i1">On many a grassy plain;</div> - <div>But since of late, Elizabeth,</div> - <div class="i1">And later, James came in,</div> - <div>They never danced on any heath</div> - <div class="i1">As when the time hath been.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>For times change, and with them changes the direction of man's -imagination. He turns his questing thoughts now this way, now that; and -though our learned dictionaries may maintain that fairy rings are but -brighter circles in green grass formed by "certain fungi, especially -<i>marasmius oreades</i>"—who knows?—</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He that sees blowing the wild wood tree,</div> - <div>And peewits circling their watery glass,</div> - <div>Dreams about Strangers that yet may be</div> - <div class="i2">Dark to our eyes, Alas!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>After all, Geoffrey Chaucer, even in <i>his</i> distant day, lamented -that England was bereft of the Silent Folk. Whisper, and they will -return—bringing with them Prince Oberon, who "is of heyght but of III -fote, and crokyd shulderyd.... And yf ye speke to hym, ye are lost for -ever."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_140"><a href="#sn_140">140</a>. "<span class="smcap">Awm. 'Who feasts tonight?'</span>"</h4> - -<p>Another mere fragment—from p. 182 of Mr. C. M. Doughty's Play, -entitled <i>The Cliffs</i>. For the complete "feast" bestowed on the world -by this great traveller and poet, the reader must seek out not only -this volume, but his <i>Arabia Deserta</i>, and his <i>Dawn in Britain</i>.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">All in Their Watchet Cloaks.</span>" (line 15)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Nan Page (my daughter) and my little sonne,</div> - <div>And three or foure more of their growth, wee'l dress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[555]</a></span></div> - <div>Like Urchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene and white,</div> - <div>With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads,</div> - <div>And rattles in their hands ..."</div> - <div class="i12"><i>The Merry Wives of Windsor.</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_141"><a href="#sn_141">141</a>. <span class="smcap">A Hunt's-up</span></h4> - -<p class="p-left">was in old days the Tally-ho blared at daybreak to rouse the chase.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">My houndes are bred of Southern kinde,</div> - <div class="i3">So flewed, so sanded they;</div> - <div class="i1">With crooked knees and dew-laps depe,</div> - <div class="i1">With eares the morning dew that sweepe</div> - <div class="i3">Slowly they chase their praye;</div> - <div class="i1">Their mouths, as tunable as belles</div> - <div class="i1">Each under each in concert swells.</div> - <div><i>The hunte is up, the morne is bright and gray,</i></div> - <div><i>Hunting us hence with hunte's up to the day....</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Beyond all beastys poor timorous Wat</div> - <div class="i3">The hunter's skille doth trye,</div> - <div class="i1">See how the houndes, with many a doubte</div> - <div class="i1">The cold fault cleanly single out!</div> - <div class="i3">Hark to their merrie crie!</div> - <div class="i1">They spende their mouthes, echoe replies,</div> - <div class="i1">Another chase is in the skies.</div> - <div><i>The hunte is up, the morne is bright and gray,</i></div> - <div><i>Hunting us hence with hunte's up to the day....</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>These are two of the seven stanzas of a song richly larded with -Shakesperean allusions, to be found in <i>The Diary of Master William -Silence</i>.</p> - -<p>In his book on English Poesy, Puttenham, who was born about 1520, says -that a poet of the name of Gray won the esteem of Henry VIII. and the -Duke of Somerset for "making certeine merry ballades, whereof one -chiefly was, 'the hunte is up, the hunte is up." Henry VIII., moreover, -was himself a versifier, and a musician, though, as I have read, a dull -one. Here is the first stanza of one of his poems:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As the holly groweth green,</div> - <div>And never changeth hue,</div> - <div>So I am, ever hath been</div> - <div>Unto my lady true....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[556]</a></span></p> - -<p class="p-left">which, with another equally surprising in sentiment, may be found in -full in that casket of antiquities, "Early English Lyrics, chosen by E. -K. Chambers and F. Sidgwick."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_143"><a href="#sn_143">143</a>. "<span class="smcap">With his Coat so gray.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though I be now a grey, grey friar,</div> - <div>Yet I was once a hale young knight,</div> - <div>The cry of my dogs was the only quoir</div> - <div>In which my spirit did take delight.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Thomas Love Peacock</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">D'ye ken that a Fox with his last Breath cursed them all as he -died in the Morning.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"'Hearken, Reynard, to my words,' (went on the King of Beasts). 'To-day -you shall answer with your life for these sins you have committed.' -... 'But nay, my lord,' (sighed the fox), 'I am innocent of all these -things. Your Majesty is great and mighty; I meagre and weak. If it -is the King's pleasure to kill me, I must die, for whether justly or -unjustly, I am your servant; my only strength is in your justice and -mercy. To these I appeal, as none has yet appealed in vain. Yea, if it -be your Majesty's will that I shall die, then do I accept it humbly. I -say no more. But yet I cannot think it a worthy thing for so great a -King to wreak his vengeance upon a subject so small.'"</p> - - -<h4 id="note_148"><a href="#sn_148">148</a>. "<span class="smcap">A Fulle Fayre Tyme.</span>"</h4> - -<p>What wonder May was welcome in medieval days—after the long winters -and the black cold nights when roads were all but impassable, and men, -"despisinge schetes" and nightgear, went to their naked beds with -nought but the stars or a dip for candle and maybe their own bones and -a scatter of straw for warmth. Is not "Loud sing Cuckoo!" our oldest -song?</p> - - -<h4 id="note_149"><a href="#sn_149">149</a>. "<span class="smcap">Lubber Breeze.</span>"</h4> - -<p>I suppose, is the prevalent wind in Lubberland or Cocaigne, where "the -pigs run about ready roasted, and cry, Come eat me!"</p> - -<p>And here is a picture of another land of mill, that once long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[557]</a></span> ago sang -to its waters, and dreamed above its image in the weir:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Only the sound remains</div> - <div>Of the old mill;</div> - <div>Gone is the wheel;</div> - <div>On the prone roof and walls the nettle reigns.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Water that toils no more</div> - <div>Dangles white locks</div> - <div>And, falling, mocks</div> - <div>The music of the mill-wheel's busy roar....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Only the idle foam</div> - <div>Of water falling</div> - <div>Changelessly calling,</div> - <div>Where once men had a work-place and a home.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Edward Thomas</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_150"><a href="#sn_150">150</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Ample Heaven.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The unthrifty sun shot vital gold,</div> - <div class="i2">A thousand pieces;</div> - <div>And heaven its azure did unfold</div> - <div class="i1">Chequered with snowy fleeces;</div> - <div class="i1">The air was all in spice,</div> - <div class="i2">And every bush</div> - <div>A garland wore; thus fed my eyes,</div> - <div class="i1">But all the earth lay hush.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Only a little fountain lent</div> - <div class="i2">Some use for ears,</div> - <div>And on the dumb shades language spent—</div> - <div class="i1">The music of her tears.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Henry Vaughan</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">The Time sa Tranquil is and Still.</span>" (line 13)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Clear had the day been from the dawn,</div> - <div class="i1">All chequered was the sky,</div> - <div>Thin clouds, like scarves of cobweb lawn,</div> - <div class="i1">Veiled heaven's most glorious eye.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The wind had no more strength than this,</div> - <div class="i1">—That leisurely it blew—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[558]</a></span></div> - <div>To make one leaf the next to kiss</div> - <div class="i1">That closely by it grew.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The rills, that on the pebbles played,</div> - <div class="i1">Might now be heard at will;</div> - <div>This world the only music made,</div> - <div class="i1">Else everything was still....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Michael Drayton</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_153"><a href="#sn_153">153</a>. "<span class="smcap">O for a Booke.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Nor—says John Bunyan:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Nor let them fall under Discouragement</div> - <div>Who at their Horn-book stick, and time hath spent</div> - <div>Upon (their) A, B, C while others do</div> - <div>Into their Primer, or their Psalter go.</div> - <div>Some boys with difficulty do begin</div> - <div>Who in the end, the Bays, and Lawrel win.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>On the other hand;</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Some Boys have Wit enough to sport and play,</div> - <div>Who at their Books are Block-heads day by day.</div> - <div>Some men are arch enough at any Vice,</div> - <div>But Dunces in the way to Paradice.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>So much for the reader, but the writer, too, may fall under -discouragement. Listen to Colum Cille, an Irish scribe of the eleventh -century, in yet another translation from the Gaelic:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My hand is weary with writing,</div> - <div>My sharp quill is not steady,</div> - <div>My slender-beaked pen pours forth</div> - <div>A black draught of shining dark-blue ink.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A stream of the wisdom of blessed God</div> - <div>Springs from my fair-brown shapely hand;</div> - <div>On the page it squirts its draught</div> - <div>Of ink of the green-skinned holly.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My little dripping pen travels</div> - <div>Across the plain of shining books,</div> - <div>Without ceasing for the wealth of the great—</div> - <div>Whence my hand is weary with writing.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[559]</a></span></p> - -<p>But to come back to the reader in his shadie nooke:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Tales of my Nursery! shall that still loved spot,</div> - <div>That window corner, ever be forgot,</div> - <div>Where through the woodbine—when with upward ray</div> - <div>Gleamed the last shadow of departing day—</div> - <div>Still did I sit, and with unwearied eye,</div> - <div>Read while I wept, and scarcely paused to sigh!</div> - <div>In that gay drawer, with fairy fictions stored,</div> - <div>When some new tale was added to my hoard,</div> - <div>While o'er each page my eager glance was flung,</div> - <div>'Twas but to learn what female fate was sung;</div> - <div>If no sad maid the castle shut from light,</div> - <div>I heeded not the giant and the knight.</div> - <div class="i1">Sweet Cinderella, even before the ball,</div> - <div>How did I love thee—ashes, rags, and all!</div> - <div>What bliss I deemed it to have stood beside,</div> - <div>On every virgin when thy shoe was tried!</div> - <div>How longed to see thy shape the slipper suit!</div> - <div>But, dearer than the slipper, loved the foot.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>As for "<i>the streete cryes all about</i>": according to <i>London -Lickpenny</i>, among the street-cries in the fifteenth century were: Hot -Pease! Hot Fine Oatcakes! Whitings maids, Whitings! Have you any old -boots? Buy a mat! New Brooms, green brooms! with a general hullabaloo -of What d'ye lack? and now and again a bawling of Clubs! to summon the -tag, rag, and bobtail to a row.</p> - -<p>Of singing cries, we may still hear in the sunny summer London streets -such sweet and doleful strains as Won't you buy my sweet blooming -lavender: Sixteen branches a penny! and in the dusks of November the -muffin-man's bell. Besides these, we have Rag-a'-bone! Milk-o! Any -scissors to grind? Clo' props! Water-creeses! and, as I remember years -ago,</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Young lambs to sell, white lambs to sell;</div> - <div>If I'd as much money as I could tell</div> - <div>I wouldn't be crying, Young lambs to sell!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_155"><a href="#sn_155">155</a>. "<span class="smcap">With Hey! with How! with Hoy.</span>"</h4> - -<p>In <i>Rustic Speech and Folk Lore</i> Mrs. Wright gives the decoys with -which the country people all over England beguile their beasts and -poultry into "shippon, sty, or pen"; or holla them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[560]</a></span> on their way, but -much, I have found, depends on him who hollas!</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>For <i>Cows</i>: Coop! Cush, cush!—while the milkmaid calls—Hoaf! -Hobe! Mull! Proo! Proochy! Prut!</p> - -<p>For <i>Calves</i>: Moddie! Mog, mog, mog! Pui-ho! Sook, sook!</p> - -<p>For <i>Sheep</i>: Co-hobe! Ovey!</p> - -<p>For <i>Pigs</i>: Check-check! Cheat! Dack, dack! Giss! or Gissy! -Lix! Ric-sic! Shug, shug, shug! Tantassa, tantassa pig, tow a -row, a row! Tig, tig, tig!</p> - -<p>For <i>Turkeys</i>: Cobbler! Peet, peet, peet! Pen! Pur, pur, pur!</p> - -<p>For <i>Geese</i>: Fly-laig! Gag, gag, gag! Ob-ee! White-hoddy!</p> - -<p>For <i>Ducks</i>: Bid, bid, bid! Diddle! Dill, dill! Wid! Wheetie!</p> - -<p>For <i>Pigeons</i>: Pees! Pod!</p> - -<p>And for <i>Rabbits</i>: Map!</p></blockquote> - -<p>"Yea, and I do vow unto thee," said the voice of the beautiful virgin -speaking out of the rock; "Call unto them but in their own names and -language, and the strong and delicate creatures of the countries of -the mind will flock into the living field of thy vision, and above the -waters will befall the secret singing of birds, and thou shalt be a -pilgrim. Mark how intense a shadow dwells upon this stone! Therein too -lurk marvels to be seen." The voice ceased, and I heard nothing but the -tapping of a fragment of dry lichen which in the draught of the hot air -caused by the burning sunlight stirred between rock and sand. And I -cried, "O unfortunate one, I thirst!"</p> - - -<h4 id="note_156"><a href="#sn_156">156</a>. "<span class="smcap">Lavender's blue</span>."</h4> - -<p>"A poor thing," as Audrey says, but homely and melodious and once -<i>some</i>body's own: such a somebody as inscribed on the walls of Burford -Church:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"... Love made me Poet</div> - <div class="i1">And this I writt,</div> - <div>My harte did do yt</div> - <div class="i1">And not my witt."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[561]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_159"><a href="#sn_159">159</a>. "<span class="smcap">There is a Garden in her Face.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Thomas Campion was "borne upon Ash Weddensday being the twelft day of -February. An. Rg. Eliz. nono"—1567. He had one sister, Rose. He was -educated at Peterhouse, Cambridge, and this was his yearly allowance -of clothes: A gowne, a cap, a hat, ii dubletes, ii payres of hose, -iiii payres of netherstockes, vi payre of shoes, ii shirts, and two -bandes. He was allowed also one quire of paper every quarter; and half -a pound of candles every fortnight from Michaelmas to Lady Day. He -studied law, may for a time have fought as a soldier in France, and -became a physician. He died on March 1, 1620, and was buried on the -same day at St. Dunstan's in the West, Fleet Street, the entry in the -register under that date being: "Thomas Campion, doctor of Phisicke, -was buried."</p> - -<p>I have taken these particulars from Mr. S. P. Vivian's edition of -his poems, because it is pleasant to share even this little of what -is known of a man who is not only a rare and true poet—though for -two centuries a forgotten one—but also because he was one of the -chief song-writers in the great age of English Music. Like all -good craftsmen, he did his work "well, surely, cleanly, workmanly, -substantially, curiously, and sufficiently," as did the glaziers of -King's College Chapel, which is distant but a kingfisher's flight over -a strip of lovely water from his own serene Peterhouse. It seems a -little curious that being himself a lover of music he should have at -first disliked rhymes in verse, though he lived to write such delicate -rhymed poems as this.</p> - -<p>In the preface to his <i>Book of Ayres</i>, he tells the secret of his -craft: "In these English Ayres," he says, "I have chiefely aymed to -couple my Words and Notes <i>lovingly</i> together, which will be much for -him to doe that hath not power over both."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_160"><a href="#sn_160">160</a>. "<span class="smcap">What is there hid in the Heart of a Rose?</span>"</h4> - -<p>There is a legend in <i>Sir John Mandeville's Travels</i>, which in our -spelling runs thus: "Bethlehem is a little city, long and narrow and -well walled, and on each side enclosed with good ditches. It was wont -to be called Ephrata.... And toward the east end of the city is a full -fair church and a gracious, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[562]</a></span> it hath many towers, pinnacles, and -corners, full strong, and curiously made; and within that church be -forty-four pillars of marble, massive and fair.</p> - -<p>"And between the city and the church is the field <i>Floridus</i>, that is -to say, the 'Field of Flowers'; it being so named for this reason: A -fair maiden was blamed with wrong and slandered ... for which cause she -was demned to death and to be burnt in that place, to the which she was -led. And, as the fire began to crackle about her, she made her prayers -to our Lord,—that, as assuredly as she was not guilty of that sin, -He would help her and make it to be known to all men, of His merciful -grace. And when she had thus said, she entered into the fire, and anon -was the fire quenched and out; and the brands that were burning became -red rose-trees, and the brands that were not kindled became white -rose-trees, full of roses. And these were the first rose-trees and -roses, both white and red, that ever any man saw; and thus was this -maiden saved by the grace of God. And therefore is that field clept the -field of God, <i>Floridus</i>, for it is full of roses."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_163"><a href="#sn_163">163</a>. "<span class="smcap">These Flowers, as in their causes, sleep.</span>" (line 4)</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—while, also, flowers may themselves be the <i>causes</i> of poems, as, in -a degree, a dewdrop in a buttercup is of the buttercup's causing. There -the rhodora, or rhododendron:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,</div> - <div>I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,</div> - <div>Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,</div> - <div>To please the desert and the sluggish brook.</div> - <div>The purple petals, fallen in the pool,</div> - <div>Made the black water with their beauty gay;</div> - <div>Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool,</div> - <div>And court the flower that cheapens his array.</div> - <div>Rhodora! Let the sages ask thee why</div> - <div>This charm is wasted on the earth and sky ...</div> - <div>Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!</div> - <div>I never thought to ask, I never knew;</div> - <div>But, in my simple ignorance, suppose</div> - <div>The self-same Power that brought me there brought you....</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">R. W. Emerson</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[563]</a></span></p> - -<p>And here anemone and cyclamen—in an enchanting little poem of but the -day before yesterday:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Long ago I went to Rome</div> - <div class="i1">As pilgrims go in Spring,</div> - <div>Journeying through the happy hills</div> - <div class="i1">Where nightingales sing,</div> - <div>And where the blue anemones</div> - <div class="i1">Drift among the pines</div> - <div>Until the woods creep down into</div> - <div class="i1">A wilderness of vines.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now every year I go to Rome</div> - <div class="i1">As lovers go in dreams,</div> - <div>To pick the fragrant cyclamen</div> - <div class="i1">To bathe in Sabine streams,</div> - <div>And come at nightfall to the city</div> - <div class="i1">Across the shadowy plain,</div> - <div>And hear through all the dusty streets</div> - <div class="i1">The waterfalls again.</div> - <div class="i6 smcap">Margaret Cecilia Furse</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">The Phoenix builds her Spicy Nest.</span>" (line 18)</h4> - -<p>The Phoenix, in faith rather than by sight, is thus described by -Pliny: "She is as big as an eagle, in colour yellow, and bright as -gold, namely all about the neck, the rest of the bodie a deepe red -purple; the taile azure blue, intermingled with feathers among of -rose carnation colour: and the head bravely adorned with a crest and -pennache finely wrought, having a tuft and plume thereupon right faire -and goodly to be seene."</p> - -<p>Her life is but three hundred and nine years less in duration than -that of the many-centuried patriarch Methuselah. When the lassitude -of age begins to creep upon her, she wings across sea and land to the -sole Arabian Tree. There she builds a nest of aromatic twigs, cassia -and frankincense, and enkindling it with her own dying ardour she is -consumed to ashes. And yet—while still they are of a heat beyond the -tempering of the sun that shines down on them from the heavens, they -magically stir, take body and awaken; and she rearises to life renewed, -in her gold, her rose carnation, her purple and azure blue.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[564]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_164"><a href="#sn_164">164</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Bower of Bliss.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This and No. 348 are but the merest fragments of the <i>Faerie Queene</i>; -but they show of what an echoing mutable music are its words. And -were ever light and colour so living, natural and crystal clear? -Reading this verse, hearing its sounds and seeing its sights in the -imagination, you cannot think Thomas Nash was too fantastical when he -wrote: "Poetry is the Honey of all Flowers, the Quintessence of all -Sciences, the Marrow of Art and the very Phrase of Angels." Indeed, as -Spenser's epitaph in Westminster Abbey says of him, he was the Prince -of Poets of his time, whose divine spirit needs no other witness than -the works which he left behind him. And poet of poets he has always -remained. John Keats, when he was a boy, used to sit in a little -summerhouse at Enfield with his schoolfellow Cowden Clarke, simply -drinking in this verse, and laying up store of purest English for his -own brief life's matchless work. So, too, Abraham Cowley:</p> - -<p>"How this love (for poetry) came to be produced in me so early is a -hard question. I believe I can tell the particular little chance that -filled my head first with such chimes of verse as have never since left -ringing there. For I remember when I began to read, and to take some -pleasure in it, there was wont to lie in my mother's parlour (I know -not by what accident, for she herself never in her life read any book -but of devotion), but there was wont to lie Spenser's works; this I -happened to fall upon, and was infinitely delighted with the stories -of the knights and giants and monsters and brave houses which I found -everywhere there (though my understanding had little to do with all -this); and by degrees with the tinkling of the rhyme and dance of the -numbers, so that I think I had read him all over before I was twelve -years old...."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_170"><a href="#sn_170">170</a>.</h4> - -<p>The poems of Robert Herrick and of Thomas Campion though known well in -their own day remained for many years practically unread and forgotten. -Thomas Traherne's (who died in 1674) had an even more curious fate, -for they were discovered in manuscript and by chance on a bookstall so -lately as 1896, and were first taken to be the work of Henry Vaughan. -Here is a passage in prose from <i>Centuries of Meditation</i>, by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[565]</a></span> same -writer, repeating this reverie of his childhood in other words: "The -corn was orient and immortal wheat which never should be reaped nor -was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. -The dust and stones of the street were as precious as gold; the gates -were at first the end of the world. The green trees when I saw them -first through one of the gates transported and ravished me; their -sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to leap, and almost mad -with ecstasy, they were such strange and wonderful things. The men! -oh, what venerable and reverend creatures did the aged seem! Immortal -cherubims! And young men glittering and sparkling angels! and maids -strange seraphic pieces of life and beauty! Boys and girls tumbling in -the street were moving jewels: I knew not that they were born or should -die. But all things abided eternally as they were in their proper -places. Eternity was manifest in the light of the day, and something -infinite behind everything appeared, which talked with my expectation -and moved my desire...."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_172"><a href="#sn_172">172</a>. "<span class="smcap">But silly we.</span>" (line 9)</h4> - -<p>This poem, I think carries with it the thought that in study of that -great book, that fair volume, called the World, there is no full -stop, no limit, pause, conclusion. Like bees, with their nectar and -honeycomb, man stores up his knowledge and experience in books. These -and his houses outlast him; the things he makes; and here and there a -famous or happy or tragic name is for a while remembered. Else, we have -our Spring and Summer—and dark cold skies enough, many of us—then -vanish away, seeming but restless phantoms in Time's enormous dream. So -far at least as this world is concerned. And generations of men—as of -the grasses and flowers—follow one upon the other.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh, yes, my dear, you have a Mother,</div> - <div>And she, when young, was loved by another,</div> - <div>And in that mother's nursery</div> - <div>Played <i>her</i> mamma, like you and me.</div> - <div>When that mamma was tiny as you</div> - <div>She had a happy mother too:</div> - <div>On, on ... Yes, presto! Puff! Pee-fee!—</div> - <div>And Grandam Eve and the apple-tree.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[566]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, into distance, smalling, dimming,</div> - <div>Think of that endless row of women,</div> - <div>Like beads, like posts, like lamps, they seem—</div> - <div>Grey-green willows, and life a stream—</div> - <div>Laughing and sighing and lovely; and, Oh,</div> - <div>You to be next in that long row!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And yet, "But silly we" is true of most of us and of most of our time -on earth. As Coventry Patmore says:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>An idle Poet, here and there,</div> - <div class="i1">Looks round him, but, for all the rest,</div> - <div>The world, unfathomably fair,</div> - <div class="i1">Is duller than a witling's jest.</div> - <div>Love wakes men, once a life-time each;</div> - <div class="i1">They lift their heavy lids, and look;</div> - <div>And, lo, what one sweet page can teach</div> - <div class="i1">They read with joy, then shut the book:</div> - <div>And some give thanks, and some blaspheme,</div> - <div class="i1">And most forget; but, either way,</div> - <div>That and the Child's unheeded dream</div> - <div class="i1">Is all the light of all their day.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>Or again, in the words of Sir John Davies—long since dead:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... I know my Soul hath power to know all things,</div> - <div>Yet is she blind and ignorant in all:</div> - <div>I know I am one of Nature's little kings,</div> - <div>Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.</div> - <div>I know my life's a pain and but a span,</div> - <div>I know my sense is mocked with everything;</div> - <div>And, to conclude, I know myself a man</div> - <div>Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_175"><a href="#sn_175">175</a>. "<span class="smcap">For Soldiers</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">from an old book entitled, "A Posie of Gilloflowers, eche differing -from other in Colour and Odour, yet all sweete." There were pretty -and sonorous names for collections of poems in the days of Humfrey -Gifford (of whom nothing is known but that he made this Posie)—such as -<i>Wits Commonwealth</i>; <i>The Banket of Sapience</i>; <i>The Paradise of Dainty -Devices</i>; <i>A Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions</i>; and <i>A Handfull -of Pleasant Delights</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[567]</a></span></p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Ye Buds of Brutus Land</span>"</h4> - -<p>sons of those, that is, who, according to the ancient myth were -descended from Brut or Brute, the Trojan, the conqueror of Albion and -its giants, the founder of London, after whom the land is named Britain.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Soldiers are Prest</span>" (stanza I)</h4> - -<p>that is, seized by the King's men, the press-gangs, and carried away by -force to fight in the wars.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Your Queen.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"To the Most High, Mightie and Magnificent Empresse Renowmed for -Pietie, Vertue, and all Gratious Government <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> by the -Grace of God Queene of England Fraunce and Ireland and of Virginia." -So runs Spenser's dedication of "The Faerie Queene," while in "The -Shepheardes Calender" for April, are the lines:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>See, where she sits upon the grassie greene,</div> - <div class="i2">(O seemely sight)</div> - <div>Yclad in Scarlot like a mayden Queene,</div> - <div class="i2">And Ermines white.</div> - <div>Upon her head a Cremosin coronet,</div> - <div>With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set:</div> - <div class="i2">Bayleaves betweene,</div> - <div class="i2">And Primroses greene</div> - <div>Embellish the sweete Violet.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>In "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Oberon tells Puck how he saw that -"Faire Vestall" in danger of Love's sharp arrows—and "The Imperiall -Votresse passèd on In maiden meditation, fancy free." But Shakespeare, -if actually invited to Court, it is said, "was in paine."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_176"><a href="#sn_176">176</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Battle-Hymn.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The writer of this magnificent Battle-Hymn died in 1910, at the age -of ninety-one. If Henry Carey, who wrote our own "National Anthem," -had realised how much and how often <i>his</i> fellow countrymen were to -be fated to use his words, he would perhaps have taken a little more -trouble with them (as much, at any rate, as Shelley and Flecker took -in <i>their</i> versions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[568]</a></span> of it), and would have found a pleasanter rhyme -than "over us" for "glorious," and than "voice" for "cause." If, on the -other hand, he had read the following <i>Grace</i> which Ben Jonson made at -the moment's call before King James, he might perhaps have refrained -from rhyming altogether, and so, by sheer modesty, would have missed -being immortalized:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Our King and Queen the Lord God Blesse,</div> - <div>The Paltzgrave, and the Lady Besse.</div> - <div>And God blesse every living thing</div> - <div>That lives, and breathes, and loves the King.</div> - <div>God bless the Counsell of Estate,</div> - <div>And Buckingham the fortunate.</div> - <div>God blesse them all, and keep them safe,</div> - <div>And God blesse me, and God blesse Raph.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>"The king," says John Aubrey, "was mighty enquisitive to know who -this Raph was. Ben told him 'twas the drawer at the <i>Swanne</i> taverne, -by Charing-crosse, who drew him good Canarie. For this drollery his -majestie gave Ben an hundred poundes....</p> - - -<h4 id="note_177"><a href="#sn_177">177</a>.</h4> - -<p>"To those," it is said, "who have resided a long time by the falls -of Niagara, the lowest whisper is distinctly audible." Their hearing -accustoms itself to that unending and enormous roar, and becomes more -exquisite. This is untrue of those whose finer sense is lulled by the -roar of war: they become deafened, and cannot hear the voice of the one -soldier—of which human "ones" every army is composed. And so war may -poison even when its intention and its cause are honour and faith. In -this particular poem (No. 177), the soldier is one of those who fought -in the Transvaal in the years 1899-1901.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_180"><a href="#sn_180">180</a>.</h4> - -<p>Rupert Brooke, Wilfred Owen, Edward Thomas, Julian Grenfell, Charles -Sorley, Francis Ledwidge, Alan Seeger, Joyce Kilmer—these are the -names of but a few of the men, none of them old, many of them in the -heyday of their gifts and genius, who besides proving themselves -soldiers in the Great War had also proved themselves poets. Within his -powers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[569]</a></span> every true poet lives in his country's service. These in that -service died.</p> - -<p>" ... Old stairs wind upwards to a long corridor, the distant ends of -which are unseen. A few candles gutter in the draughts. The shadows -leap. The place is so still that I can hear the antique timbers -talking. But something is without which is not the noise of the wind. I -listen, and hear it again, the darkness throbbing; the badly adjusted -horizon of outer night thudding on the earth—the incessant guns of the -great war.</p> - -<p>And I come, for this night at least, to my room. On the wall is a tiny -silver Christ on a crucifix; and above that the portrait of a child, -who fixes me in the surprise of innocence, questioning and loveable, -the very look of warm April and timid but confiding light. I sleep with -the knowledge of that over me, an assurance greater than that of all -the guns of all the hosts. It is a promise. I may wake to the earth I -used to know in the morning."</p> - -<p class="smcap r1">H. M. Tomlinson</p> - - -<h4 id="note_184"><a href="#sn_184">184</a>.</h4> - -<p>The reader may speculate how it is that while room has been found here -for this entrancing rhyme, none has been made for Macaulay's longer -Lays, Browning's Cavalier Songs, and a host of poems equally gallant -and spirited. Perhaps he will forgive their absence if he will consider -what is said on page xxxiii, and if he will also remember that every -chooser must make his choice.</p> - -<p>There is, too, the story of the Woodcutter's son. This fuzzheaded -boy, called Dick or Dickon, while playing on his elder pipe the -tune of "Over the Hills" one dappled sunshine morning in the woods, -fortuning to squinny his eye sidelong over his pipe, perceived a -crooked and dwarf old man to be standing beside him where before was -only a solitary bearded thistle. This old man, the twist of whose -countenance showed him to be one with an ear for woodland music, -invited the Woodcutter's son to descend with him into the orchards -of the Gnomes—and to help himself. This he did, and marvellously he -fared. On turning out his pockets that night—the next day being a -Sunday—his Mother found (apart from the wondrous smouldering heap of -fruits, amethyst, emerald, rubies and the topaz, which he had given -her) two or three strange unpolished stones, and these also from the -Old Man's orchards.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[570]</a></span> And she climbed up with her candle, he being abed, -and asked him why he had burdened himself with such things of little -seeming value, when he might have carried off their weight in diamonds -big as dumplings. "Well, you see, mother dear," he drowsily replied, "I -chose of the best and brightest till my eyes dazzled; and then there -was a bird that called, Dick! Dick! Dick! Dick! and those magic pebbles -were among her eggs."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_185"><a href="#sn_185">185</a>. "<span class="smcap">We be the King's Men.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The Song of Soldiers from Act I., Scene I., Part i. of that mighty -play, <i>The Dynasts</i>. "The time is a fine day in March, 1805. A highway -crosses the ridge, which is near the sea, and the south coast is seen -bounding the landscape below, the open Channel extending beyond."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_186"><a href="#sn_186">186</a>. <span class="smcap">Budmouth Dears</span></h4> - -<p class="p-left">—from <i>The Dynasts</i>, Act II., Scene I., Part iii.—the song sung in -Camp on the Plain of Vittoria by Sergeant Young (of Sturminster Newton) -of the Fifteenth (King's) Hussars on the eve of the longest day in the -year 1813 and of Wellington's victory.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_187"><a href="#sn_187">187</a>. "<span class="smcap">Trafalgar</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—from <i>The Dynasts</i>, Act V., Scene VII., Part i. Boatmen and burghers -with their pipes and mugs are sitting on settles round the fire in -the taproom of the <i>Old Rooms</i> Inn at Weymouth. The body of Nelson on -board his battered <i>Victory</i> has lately been brought to England to be -sepulchred in St. Paul's. And this is the Song the Second Boatman sings.</p> - -<p>The "Nothe," line 8, is the promontory that divides for Weymouth, where -lived Nelson's Captain Hardy, its harbour or back-sea on the north, -and the Portland Roads, its front-sea on the south "Roads," meaning -protected seas where ships may <i>ride</i> at anchor. On this tempestuous -and fateful night, October 21, 1805, the breakers were sweeping clean -across the spit of land called the Narrows. On the further side runs -for a round ten miles that enormous wall of pebbles—Chesil Beach, -whose stones the tides sort out so precisely—the least in size towards -Lyme Regis—that a coast-man can tell even in a thick mist where he -has landed on the beach, merely by measuring them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_571" id="Page_571">[571]</a></span> with his eye. About -ten miles up this water swim in Spring the swans of the Swannery of -Abbotsbury with their cygnets, each mother-bird striving to decoy as -many strange young ones into her train as she can. So deals a proud and -powerful nation with the lesser kingdoms of the earth.</p> - -<p>About four years and a half before Trafalgar, on April 2nd, 1801, -Nelson and Parker had won the Battle of the Baltic—as Thomas Campbell -(who was then twenty-four), in his well-known poem tells:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Like leviathans afloat</div> - <div>Lay their bulwarks on the brine;</div> - <div>While the sign of battle flew</div> - <div>On the lofty British line:</div> - <div>It was ten of April morn by the chime:</div> - <div>As they drifted on their path,</div> - <div>There was silence deep as death;</div> - <div>And the boldest held his breath,</div> - <div>For a time....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>So accustomed, indeed, are we mere landsmen to the exploits of the Navy -on the High Seas that we easily forget it was once to our forefathers -a novelty and a wonder—such a wonder as might be compared with the -fabulous Castles in Spain or the Gardens of Babylon, as the old -nameless poet of the following lines recounts:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cease now the talke of wonders! nothing rare</div> - <div>Of floateing ilandes, castles in the aire!</div> - <div>Of wooden walls, graves walkeing, flieing steedes,</div> - <div>Or Trojan horse! The present truth exceeds</div> - <div>Those ancient fables; floating iles great store,</div> - <div>Sent from the British Ile, now guard her shore,</div> - <div>And castles strong without foundation stande</div> - <div>More safe on waters pavement then on lande....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_189"><a href="#sn_189">189</a>. "<span class="smcap">Brave Sailors.</span>"</h4> - -<p>And here is one of them—come home to his sweetheart, and she (until -stanza 6) not recognizing him:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I walked out one night, it being dark all over,</div> - <div>The moon did show no light I could discover,</div> - <div>Down by a river side where ships were sailing,</div> - <div>A lonely maid I spied, weeping and bewailing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_572" id="Page_572">[572]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I boldly stept up to her, and asked her what grieved her,</div> - <div>She made me this reply, "None could relieve her,</div> - <div>For my love is pressed, she cried, to cross the ocean,</div> - <div>My mind is like the Sea, always in motion."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He said, "My pretty fair maid, mark well my story,</div> - <div>For your true love and I fought for England's glory,</div> - <div>By one unlucky shot we both got parted,</div> - <div>And by the wounds he got, I'm broken hearted.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"He told me before he died his heart was broken,</div> - <div>He gave me this gold ring, take it for a token,—</div> - <div>'Take this unto my dear, there is no fairer,</div> - <div>Tell her to be kind and love the bearer.'"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Soon as these words he spoke she ran distracted,</div> - <div>Not knowing what she did, nor how she acted,</div> - <div>She run ashore, her hair showing her anger,</div> - <div>"Young man, you've come too late, for I'll wed no stranger."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Soon as these words she spoke, her love grew stronger.</div> - <div>He flew into her arms, he could wait no longer,</div> - <div>They both sat down and sung, but she sung clearest,</div> - <div>Like a Nightingale in spring, "Welcome home, my dearest."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He sang, "God bless the wind that blew him over."</div> - <div>She sang, "God bless the ship that brought him over,"</div> - <div>They both sat down and sung, but she sung clearest,</div> - <div>Like a Nightingale in spring, "Welcome home, my dearest."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>To get any rhythm into this doggerel is like persuading a donkey to -gallop. And yet how clearly one sees the dark night, the disguised -sailor and his sweetheart talking together on the river strand, and the -ships on its bosom in the gloom; while the wistful, deceitful tale he -tells her is as old as Romance. Once get cantering, too; how pleasing -is the motion!</p> - - -<h4 id="note_192"><a href="#sn_192">192</a>. "<span class="smcap">Dark Rosaleen.</span>"</h4> - -<p>From his childhood, which was spent in a little shop in Dublin, Mangan -had a dark and troubled life. But always a passionate love for his -country, Ireland—his Dark Rosaleen—burned on in his imagination as it -is revealed in the wild and haunting music of this poem.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573">[573]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_197"><a href="#sn_197">197</a>.</h4> - -<p>There are so many words in this poem strange to an English ear that it -seems better to explain them here so as not to interrupt the actual -reading of it too much. After all, the little that is not plain speaks -in its music, and that is a very large part of what we call its -"meaning." For the meaning of a poem is <i>all</i> the interest, thought, -pictures, music, and happiness that we can get out of it—it is all -that it <i>does</i> to us.</p> - -<p>Stanza (1) "loaning" is a green path in the fields, and "ilka" means -every; "wede" means faded or vanished. (2) "bught" is a sheepfold; -"scorning" I suppose means cracking jokes at one another; "dowie" means -sad and drooping; "daffing" and "gabbing" is larking and gossiping; -a "leglin" is a milkpail. (3) "hairst" means harvest; "bandsters, -"sheaf-binders"; "lyart" is faded with age; "runkled" wrinkled; -"fleeching" is wheedling or coaxing or flirting. (4) "swankies" means -the blithe lads of stanza 2; "bogle" means goblin or bogey—an evening -game like "I spy," I should think. (5) "Dool and wae" means sorrow or -grief and woe.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_199"><a href="#sn_199">199</a>.</h4> - -<p>Robert Hayman, a Merchant of Bristol at the age of twenty-five, was -a nephew of Sir Walter Raleigh's. He became Governor of a Plantation -called <i>The British Hope</i> in Newfoundland. In 1628 he settled in Guiana -(of whose gilded and barbaric Amazonian princesses his uncle tells in -Hakluyt's <i>Voyages</i>). He made his will in 1633, and nothing more was -afterwards heard of him—at least by the people of Bristol.</p> - -<p>Poetry shines out of his stumbling verses like the setting sun through -a thicket of thorns. Their "Totnes" is an uncommonly old town, mainly -consisting of that "long street" where, when a boy, he met "godly -Drake." At its East-Gate is the Brutus-stone—for here Brut of Troy -is said first to have trodden English soil, having landed from the -Dart. Twenty miles distant to westward of the town lies on its rivers -Plymouth—the Spaniards' wasps' nest—its Drake in stone now gazing out -to sea from its Hoe. Twenty miles to the east on the coast is Hayes -Barton, where Raleigh was born about 1552. And seven miles down the -Dart is the village of Green<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_574" id="Page_574">[574]</a></span>way, the home of his half-brother Sir -Humphrey Gilbert, the discoverer of Newfoundland, who was in that year -a boy of about sixteen. Here amid-stream juts up the Anchor Rock upon -which, runs the story, the discoverer of tobacco and of the potato used -to sit and smoke his pipe. In 1587 Gilbert and Raleigh sailed together -in search of the as yet Unfoundland, but on that voyage in vain.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_200"><a href="#sn_200">200</a>. "<span class="smcap">For Hally Now is Dead.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Hally was Henry, Prince of Wales, the eldest son of James I., Queen -Elizabeth's godson, and a beloved patron of the arts and poetry to whom -Sir Walter Raleigh looked for happy favours. He was little of body and -quick of spirit, and, like Alexander, delighted "to witch the World -with noble horsemanship." He died when he was nineteen. In Windsor -Castle may be seen a suit of armour made for this young prince when he -was a boy—a suit which for grace and craftsmanship is said to be one -of the most beautiful things of its kind in the world.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_202"><a href="#sn_202">202</a>. "<span class="smcap">Henry Before Agincourt.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Here, again, the verse of this ancient fragment jolts, jars, and moves -cumbrously as a cannon over rocky ground. But how wide and moving a -picture it presents, and how noble is its utterance.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_203"><a href="#sn_203">203</a>. "<span class="smcap">Alexander the Great.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This is the translation of another ancient Irish poem made by Kuno -Meyer. Plutarch wrote Alexander's Life (comparing him with Julius -Caesar), in which the young prince is pictured as if by Velasquez. Here -are a few words from the translation of this life which Sir Thomas -North made from the French of Amiot:</p> - -<p>"The ambition and desire he (Alexander) had of honour showed a certain -greatness of mind and noble courage, passing his years.... For when -he was asked one day (because he was swift of foot) whether he would -assay to run for victory at the Olympian Games, 'I could be content' -(said he), 'so I might run with Kings'." When, too, "they brought him -news that his Father had taken some famous city, or had won<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_575" id="Page_575">[575]</a></span> some -great battle, he was nothing glad to hear it, but would say to his -playfellows: 'Sirs, my Father will have all: I shall have nothing left -me to conquer with you that shall be ought worth' ..."</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Is it even so?" said my lady.</div> - <div class="i1">"Even so!" said my lord.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_205"><a href="#sn_205">205</a>. "<span class="smcap">And the Kings Asleep.</span>"</h4> - -<p>... Not a stone-cast from the summit of the hill where all snow was now -parched and evaporated away, stood a cairn of boulders and thereon sate -three Eagles whose eyes surveyed the kingdoms of the world, its seas -and Man's lost possessions. And the Eagle that was eastwards of the -three, a little rimpled her wings and cried: "Where now? where now?" -And the Eagle that shook upon her plumes the dazzle of the dying sun -stretched out her corded neck and yelped: "Man! Man!" And the midmost -Eagle stooped low its golden head and champed between its talons with -its beak upon the boulder: "The Earth founders," she mewed. And a -stillness was upon the hill as though of a myriad watching eyes.</p> - -<h4 id="note_207"><a href="#sn_207">207</a>. "<span class="smcap">Dance Sedately</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—and here are two old rhymes for the dancing to. One for a Morris -Dance:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Skip it and trip it nimbly, nimbly,</div> - <div class="i1">Tickle it, tickle it lustily;</div> - <div>Strike up the tabour for the wenches' favour,</div> - <div class="i1">Tickle it, tickle it lustily.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Let us be seene in Hygate Freene,</div> - <div class="i1">To dance for the honour of Holloway.</div> - <div>Since we are come hither, let us spare for no leather</div> - <div class="i1">To dance for the honour of Holloway.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And this for a Flower Dance:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Where's my lovely parsley, say?</div> - <div>My violets, roses, where are they?</div> - <div>My parsley, roses, violets fair,</div> - <div>Where are my flowers? Tell me where?</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576">[576]</a></span></p> - -<p>And yet another for one's Lonesome Low:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The king's young dochter was sitting in her window,</div> - <div class="i1">Sewing at her silken seam;</div> - <div>She lookt out o' the bow-window,</div> - <div class="i1">And she saw the leaves growing green,</div> - <div class="i8">My luve;</div> - <div class="i1">And she saw the leaves growing green.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She stuck her needle into her sleeve,</div> - <div class="i1">Her seam down by her tae,</div> - <div>And she is awa' to the merrie greenwood,</div> - <div class="i1">To pu' the nit and the slae,</div> - <div class="i8">My luve;</div> - <div class="i1">To pu' the nit and the slae.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>The "dochter" is of course daughter, "nit" is nut, and "slae" sloe.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_209"><a href="#sn_209">209</a>.</h4> - -<p>Pause an instant on the fifth word in the third stanza and you can -actually <i>hear</i> the birds laughing—yaffle, blackcap, bullfinch and -jay, and the droning and the whistling and the whir-r-r.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_210"><a href="#sn_210">210</a>. <span class="smcap">Fa la La.</span></h4> - -<p>Scattered through this volume are many songs, a few of them—both -words and music—exceedingly ancient. Mr. Nahum had a cofferful of -old hand-written music (square crotchets and quavers and handsome -clefs); and many outlandish instruments were hung up in the dust and -silence in one of his cupboards. I remember some small living thing -set a string jangling when for the first time the door admitted me to -a sight of their queer shapes and appearances. In an old book of 1548, -<i>The Complaynt of Scotland</i>, there is a list of names, not only of old -folk-tales such as "The tayl of the wolfe of the varldes end"; and "The -tayl of the giantes that eit quyk men," but of songs and dances for -long in common love and knowledge even in those old times. Here are a -few of the songs:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>God You, Good Day, Wild Boy.</div> - <div>Broom, Broom on Hill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_577" id="Page_577">[577]</a></span></div> - <div>Trolly lolly leman, dow.</div> - <div>All musing of Marvels, amiss have I gone.</div> - <div>O Mine Heart, hey, this is my Song.</div> - <div>Shall I go with You to Rumbelow Fair?</div> - <div>That Day, that Day, that Gentle Day.</div> - <div>Alas, that Samyn Sweet Face!</div> - <div>In are Mirthful Morrow.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And here some Dances:</p> - -<ul> - <li>All Christian Men's Dance.</li> - <li>Long Flat Foot of Garioch.</li> - <li>The Lamb's Wind.</li> - <li>Leaves Green.</li> - <li>The Bace of Voragon.</li> - <li>The Loch of Slene.</li> - <li>The Bee.</li> - <li>Shake a Trot, and</li> - <li>The Vod and the Val.</li> -</ul> - -<p>The tunes to these were played at that day on four kinds of bagpipe -(including a drone bagpipe), a trump, a recorder, a "fiddell," and a -"quhissil"—which is the pleasantest way of spelling <i>whistle</i> I have -yet seen. The melodies and words of most of them are, apparently, all -now clean forgotten.</p> - -<p>"Fa la la" (No. 210) is of a different kind, being one of hundreds -of madrigals, "ayres" and ballets of which both the words and the -music were written in England in the first twenty years or so of the -seventeenth century. There is, of course, a hoard of learning that one -may study on this English music—William Byrd's, John Dowland's, Thomas -Ford's, Thomas Campion's, John Bartlet's, Philip Rosseter's, Robert -Ayres' and others—which in its own day was as famous in the countries -of Europe as English poetry is now. It was the coming of foreign music -and musicians to England—the Italians and Handel and Mendelssohn—that -put it ungratefully out of mind. To-day its dust has at last been -brushed away. The Madrigals are being printed and sung again, and Dr. -Fellowes has lately published a volume containing the words of hundreds -of such lively, nimble and heart-entrancing rhymes—intended by their -writers to carry with them a double charm—not only their own verbal -melody, grace and beauty, but also their music's.</p> - -<p>My own knowledge is scanty indeed, but I gather that a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_578" id="Page_578">[578]</a></span> madrigal -is intended to be sung, unaccompanied with instruments, by voices -only—three to five, six, or seven, it may be, and men's and women's or -boys', coursing, echoing, interweaving, responding and rilling together -like the countless runnels and wavelets of a brook over its stones, or -a wood full of singing birds at evening. An Ayre is different. It is -for the voice—singing its melody to the accompaniment of lute, viol -or virginal, as a nightingale may sing at dusk above the murmur of a -softly-brawling brook. A Ballet, the most ancient of all three, went -hand in hand and foot to foot with a dance.</p> - -<p>All I wish to make clear is that the printed words of Nos. 210 and -212, for instance, can give only a fraction of the pleasure their -poets intended, who in writing had always the singing voice and often -the twangling string in mind. Their very age to my fancy gives them -an enticing strangeness, grace, and freshness. For in their company -the imagination returns to the days when first they rang out in the -taverns and parlours and palaces and streets of a London that from -every steeple and tower was within sight of green fields; a noble city -of but about three hundred thousand people (including children) wherein -you might any day find William Shakespeare, Ben Johnson, Chapman and -the rest talking together in its taverns, the <i>Mermaid</i> or the <i>Triple -Tun</i>, while that ill-fortuned traveller and statesman, Sir Walter -Raleigh, fallen upon evil days, sat mewed up in the Tower of London, -engrossed in his <i>History of the World</i>.</p> - -<p>None the less there are human beings who remain deaf to the magic both -of words and music—that, like the deaf adder, <i>stop</i> their ears: "I -know very well," wrote Sir William Temple, "that many who pretend to -be wise by the forms of being grave, are apt to despise both poetry -and music as toys and trifles too light for the use or entertainment -of serious men. But whoever find themselves wholly insensible to these -charms, would I think do well to keep their own counsel, for ... -while this world lasts, I doubt most but the pleasure and requests of -these two entertainments will do so too; and happy those that content -themselves with these, or any other so easy and so innocent; and do -not trouble the world or other men, because they cannot be quiet -themselves, though nobody hurts them!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_579" id="Page_579">[579]</a></span></p> - -<p>"When all is done, human life is at the greatest and the best but like -a froward child, that must be played with and humoured a little to keep -it quiet till it falls asleep, and then the care is over."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_211"><a href="#sn_211">211</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Onely Pretty Ring Time.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">"Amo, amas,</div> - <div class="i2">I love a lass,</div> - <div class="i2">As cedar tall and slender;</div> - <div class="i2">Sweet cowslip's face</div> - <div class="i2">Is her nominative case,</div> - <div class="i2">And she's of the feminine gender.</div> - <div class="i2">Horum quorum,</div> - <div class="i2">Sunt divorum,</div> - <div class="i2">Harum, scarum, Divo;</div> - <div>Tag rag, merry derry, periwig and hatband,</div> - <div class="i2">Hic—hoc—hârum, genitivo."</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">John O'keefe</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was a mayde come out of Kent,</div> - <div class="i1">Deintie love, deintie love;</div> - <div>There was a mayde cam out of Kent,</div> - <div class="i4">Daungerous be:</div> - <div>There was a mayde cam out of Kent,</div> - <div>Fáyre, propre, small and gent,</div> - <div>As ever upon the grounde went,</div> - <div class="i4">For so should it be.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">"When you speake (Sweet)</div> - <div>I'ld have you do it ever. When you sing,</div> - <div>I'ld have you buy and sell so: so give Almes,</div> - <div>Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres,</div> - <div>To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you</div> - <div>Nothing but that: move still, still so:</div> - <div>And owne no other function....</div> - <div class="i4">My prettiest Perdita."</div> - <div class="i12"><i>The Winter's Tale.</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Such pretie things would soon be gon</div> - <div>If we should not so them remembre."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_580" id="Page_580">[580]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_212"><a href="#sn_212">212</a>.</h4> - -<p>There <i>might</i> be an instant's check or faltering at the eighth -line, but make it "when the <span class="smcap">Winds Blow</span> and the <span class="smcap">Seas -Flow</span>"—the great flood of air and water banking up as it were into -the words as does the Atlantic in a gale at the Spring Equinox—and -all's well.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_213"><a href="#sn_213">213</a>. "<span class="smcap">And the Fleas That Tease in the High Pyrenees.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"The flee is a lyttell worme, and greveth men mooste; and scapeth and -voideth peril with lepynge and not with runnynge, and wexeth slowe and -fayleth in colde tyme, and in somer tyme it wexeth quiver and swyft; -and spareth not kynges."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_214"><a href="#sn_214">214</a>. "<span class="smcap">I Loved a Lass.</span>"</h4> - -<p>George Wither, says Aubrey, could make verses as fast as he could write -them. So, too, could Shakespeare. "What he thought," said his editors, -"he uttered with that easinesse that we have scarse received from him a -blot in his papers."</p> - -<p>Still:—"So, So-a! fair and softly!" said the old Shropshire farmer to -Job his plough-horse when he kicked up his heels as if to break into a -gallop; "So, So-a! When thou'rt a racer, my dear, or born a high-blood -Arab, there'll be time enough for that. <i>Some goes their best slow.</i>"</p> - -<p>If the lass's "fives" in the fourth stanza (of 214) were the fives -of to-day she must have had a quite comfortable foot, a size or two -larger, at any rate, than the bride's in Sir John Suckling's <i>Ballad -upon a Wedding</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Her feet beneath her petticoat</div> - <div>Like little mice stole in and out,</div> - <div class="i1">As if they feared the light;</div> - <div>But oh, she dances such a way!</div> - <div>No sun upon an Easter-day</div> - <div class="i1">Is half so fine a sight.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her cheeks so rare a white was on,</div> - <div>No daisy makes comparison;</div> - <div class="i1">Who sees them is undone;</div> - <div>For streaks of red were mingled there,</div> - <div>Such as are on a Catharine pear,</div> - <div class="i1">The side that's next the sun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_581" id="Page_581">[581]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her lips were red; and one was thin</div> - <div>Compared to that was next her chin</div> - <div class="i1">(Some bee had stung it newly);</div> - <div>But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face,</div> - <div>I durst no more upon them gaze,</div> - <div class="i1">Than on the sun in Júly....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_218"><a href="#sn_218">218</a>. "<span class="smcap">And St. John's Bell Rings for Matins.</span>"</h4> - -<p>June 24 is not only the birthday of St. John the Baptist, but also the -year's Sun Day, for about this day, following through the night but -a little way beneath the horizon, he rises at dawn furthest North of -East in his annual journey (see p. xiv). As once on May-day so it was -then formerly the custom, all England over, to set bonfires blazing -on the hilltops, around which the country people danced and sang. The -dairy-maid who had the breath, and was fleet enough of foot to ring -around, between dusk and daybreak, nine such merry bonfires before they -were burnt out, assured her heart of a happy marriage within the year.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_219"><a href="#sn_219">219</a>. "<span class="smcap">O It's Dabbling in the Dew Makes the Milkmaids Fair!</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The aïr to gi'e your cheäks a hue</div> - <div>O' rwosy red, so feaïr to view,</div> - <div>Is what do sheäke the grass-bleädes grae</div> - <div>At breäk o' dae, in mornén dew;</div> - <div>Vor vo'k that will be rathe abrode,</div> - <div>Will meet wi' health upon their road.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But biden up till dead o' night,</div> - <div>When han's o' clocks do stan' upright,</div> - <div>By candlelight, do soon consume</div> - <div>The feäce's bloom, an' turn it white.</div> - <div>An' moon-beäms cast vrom midnight skies</div> - <div>Do blunt the sparklen ov the eyes.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Vor health do weäke vrom nightly dreams</div> - <div>Below the mornen's eärly beams,</div> - <div>An' leäve the dead-aïr'd houses' eaves,</div> - <div>Vor quiv'ren leaves, an' bubblen streams,</div> - <div>A-glitt'ren brightly to the view,</div> - <div>Below a sky o' cloudless blue.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Barnes</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_582" id="Page_582">[582]</a></span></p> - -<p>The words in this poem are spelt as they are spoken in the County -of Dorset. "Rathe" means early; and "below" beneath. There is a -half-secret rhyme in each fourth line.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_223"><a href="#sn_223">223</a>. "<span class="smcap">Music, When Soft Voices Die, Vibrates in The Memory.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There is sweet music here that softer falls</div> - <div>Than petals from blown roses on the grass,</div> - <div>Or night-dews on still waters between walls</div> - <div>Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;</div> - <div>Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,</div> - <div>Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes;</div> - <div>Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">Tennyson</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_224"><a href="#sn_224">224</a>. "<span class="smcap">A Bell in Moscow.</span>" (stanza 4)</h4> - -<p>Of this I saw the picture in Thrae. It was named Czar Kolokol, and, -when cast, was of the weight of about twenty-six hundred heavy men. It -now stands clapperless on the ground with a breach in its metal side. -Through this breach the people go into its silence to pray.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_225"><a href="#sn_225">225</a>.</h4> - -<p>This "Country Rhime," with Nos. 121 and 434, is taken from <i>A Book -for Boys and Girls</i>, written by John Bunyan. It came out into the -world on May 12th, 1686, two years before Bunyan died on Snow Hill in -London; and two years after the publication of the Second Part of <i>The -Pilgrim's Progress</i>, "wherein is set forth the manner of the setting -out of Christian's Wife and Children, their dangerous journey, and safe -arrival at the Desired Country."</p> - -<p>When Bunyan was young he loved ringing the bells with the ringers in -the steeple of the village church of Elstow, where he was born, and -where his grandfather, Thomas Bonyon, was "a common baker of human -bread."</p> - -<p>All these "Homely rhimes" are followed in this particular <i>Book for -Boys and Girls</i> by comparisons", as here: first the bells; then a -lesson about them. They are parables. But in Mr. Nahum's copying, many -of the lessons were omitted;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_583" id="Page_583">[583]</a></span> perhaps because he preferred to think -out his own. Not that the poetry that is intended to teach, to praise -virtue, and to instil wisdom in the heart and mind of its readers is -any the less poetry for this reason. Nevertheless, <i>every</i> beautiful -thing in this world—the hyssop in the wall and the cedar of Lebanon, -Solomon in all his glory and the ring on his finger, carries with it -joy and wonder of the life that is ours, and gratitude to the Maker of -all. And poets who, when writing, are too intent upon teaching, are apt -to forfeit their rarest poetry.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_232"><a href="#sn_232">232</a>.</h4> - -<p>Dorothy was William Wordsworth's only sister and his friend Coleridge's -close friend. What she squandered on these two poets—her self, her -talk, her imagination, her love—only they could tell. "She gave -me eyes, she gave me ears," once wrote her brother; she shared his -visionary happiness. With Coleridge she used to walk and talk so nearly -and dearly that again and again in her <i>Journal</i> she uses all but the -very words—that "thin gray cloud," the line on Spring, or on the one -red leaf, for instance—which are so magically his own in <i>Christabel</i> -(No. 345).</p> - - -<h4 id="note_233"><a href="#sn_233">233</a>. "<span class="smcap">To Autumn.</span>"</h4> - -<p>I read this—perhaps the loveliest of John Keats's odes, many times -before I realised that the whole of it is addressed to the musing -apparition or phantasm of Autumn whom in its second stanza he describes -as if she were in image there before him. This, perhaps, was partly -because the poem is usually printed with a full stop after "clammy -cells," and partly because of my own stupidity.</p> - -<p>Thomas Hood, in his scarcely less beautiful Ode, sees Autumn first as -an old man:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I saw old Autumn in the misty morn</div> - <div>Stand shadowless like Silence, listening</div> - <div>To silence, for no lonely bird would sing</div> - <div>Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,</div> - <div>Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;</div> - <div>Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright</div> - <div>With tangled gossamer that fell by night,</div> - <div class="i2">Pearling his coronet of golden corn.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_584" id="Page_584">[584]</a></span></p> - -<p>And later, in his fourth stanza:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The squirrel gloats on his accomplished hoard,</div> - <div>The ants have brimmed their garners with ripe grain,</div> - <div class="i1">And honey bees have stored</div> - <div>The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells;</div> - <div>The swallows all have winged across the main;</div> - <div>But here the Autumn melancholy dwells,</div> - <div class="i1">And sighs her tearful spells</div> - <div>Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain.</div> - <div class="i3">Alone, alone,</div> - <div class="i3">Upon a mossy stone,</div> - <div>She sits and reckons up the dead and gone,</div> - <div>With the last leaves for a love-rosary,</div> - <div>Whilst all the withered world looks drearily,</div> - <div>Like a dim picture of the drownèd past</div> - <div>In the hushed mind's mysterious far away,</div> - <div>Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last</div> - <div>Into that distance, gray upon the gray....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_237"><a href="#sn_237">237</a>. "<span class="smcap">A Foolish Thing.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I thee advise</div> - <div>If thou be wise</div> - <div>To keep thy wit</div> - <div>Though it be small:</div> - <div>'Tis rare to get.</div> - <div>And far to fet,</div> - <div>'Twas ever yet</div> - <div>Dear'st ware of all.</div> - <div class="i4 smcap">George Turberville</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>"Far to fetch" it certainly is; but here is a little counsel to this -end from the old Irish <i>Instructions of King Cormac</i> (of the ninth -century). Of Carbery I know no more, but doubtless there is much to -hear:</p> - -<p>"O Cormac, grandson of Conn," said Carbery, "what is the worst for the -body of man?"</p> - -<p>"Not hard to tell," said Cormac. "Sitting too long, lying too long, -long standing, lifting heavy things, exerting oneself beyond one's -strength, running too much, leaping too much, frequent falls, sleeping -with one's leg over the bed-rail, gazing at glowing embers, wax, -biestings [very new milk], new ale,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_585" id="Page_585">[585]</a></span> bull-flesh, curdles, dry food, -bog-water, rising too early, cold, sun, hunger, drinking too much, -eating too much, sleeping too much, sinning too much, grief, running -up a height, shouting against the wind, drying oneself by a fire, -summer-dew, winter-dew, beating ashes, swimming on a full stomach, -sleeping on one's back, foolish romping." ...</p> - -<p>"O Cormac, grandson of Conn," said Carbery, "I desire to know how -I shall behave among the wise and the foolish, among friends and -strangers, among the old and the young, among the innocent and the -wicked."</p> - -<p>"Not hard to tell," said Cormac.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">"Be not too wise, nor too foolish,</div> - <div class="i3">Be not too conceited, nor too diffident,</div> - <div class="i3">Be not too haughty, nor too humble,</div> - <div class="i3">Be not too talkative, nor too silent,</div> - <div class="i3">Be not too hard, nor too feeble.</div> - <div>If you be too wise, men will expect too much of you;</div> - <div>If you be too foolish, you will be deceived;</div> - <div>If you be too conceited, you will be thought vexatious;</div> - <div>If you be too humble, you will be without honour;</div> - <div>If you be too talkative, you will not be heeded;</div> - <div>If you be too silent, you will not be regarded;</div> - <div>If you be too bard, you will be broken;</div> - <div>If you be too feeble, you will be crushed."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>But what the exact total of all these "too's" may be is a riddle only -the Higher Mathematics can solve.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Our Play is done</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—after which, in Elizabeth's day, "the characters (one or more) were -wont to kneel down upon the stage and to offer a solemn prayer for the -sovereign, or other patron":</p> - -<p>"My tongue is wearie; when my Legs are too, I will bid you good night; -and so kneele down before you: But (indeed) to pray for the Queene."</p> - -<p class="r1"><i>Henry IV.</i></p> - - -<h4 id="note_245"><a href="#sn_245">245</a>. "<span class="smcap">Ah! would 'twere so.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I know that all beneath the moon decays,</div> - <div>And what by mortals in this world is brought</div> - <div>In Time's great periods shall return to nought;</div> - <div>That fairest states have fatal nights and days;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_586" id="Page_586">[586]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I know how all the Muse's heavenly lays,</div> - <div>With toil of spright which is so dearly bought,</div> - <div>As idle sounds, of few or none are sought;</div> - <div>And that nought lighter is than airy praise.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I know frail beauty's like the purple flower,</div> - <div>To which one morn oft birth and death affords;</div> - <div>That love a jarring is of minds' accords,</div> - <div>Where sense and will invassall reason's power.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Know what I list, this all can not me move,</div> - <div>But that—O me! I both must write and love!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Drummond</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_246"><a href="#sn_246">246</a>. "<span class="smcap">No Crane talks.</span>" (line 16)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I hear the crane, if I mistake not, cry</div> - <div>Who in the clouds forming the forked Y,</div> - <div>By the brave orders practized under her,</div> - <div>Instructeth souldiers in the art of war.</div> - <div>For when her troops of wandring cranes forsake</div> - <div>Frost-firmèd Strymon, and (in autumn) take</div> - <div>Truce with the northern dwarfs, to seek adventure</div> - <div>In southern climates for a milder winter;</div> - <div>A-front each band a forward captain flies,</div> - <div>Whose pointed bill cuts passage through the skies,</div> - <div>Two skilful sergeants keep the ranks aright,</div> - <div>And with their voyce hasten their tardy flight;</div> - <div>And when the honey of care-charming sleep</div> - <div>Sweetly begins through all their veines to creep</div> - <div>One keeps the watch, and ever carefull-most,</div> - <div>Walks many a round about the sleeping hoast,</div> - <div>Still holding in his claw a stony clod,</div> - <div>Whose fall may wake him if he hap to nod.</div> - <div>Another doth as much, a third, a fourth,</div> - <div>Untill, by turns the night be turnèd forth."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>So also, according to travellers, talk, argue in parliament, camp, and -keep watch the wandering tribes of the gaudy-dyed Baboons.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_249"><a href="#sn_249">249</a>.</h4> - -<p>If this poem is read softly, pausingly, without haste, the very words -will seem like snowflakes themselves, floating into the mind; and then, -the beauty and the wonder.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_587" id="Page_587">[587]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_251"><a href="#sn_251">251</a></h4> - -<p>Here again, as in music, there are rests in the second, fourth and -fifth lines of each stanza. Is there any magic to compare with that -still solemn unearthly radiance when the world is masked with snow; and -the very sparkling of the mind is like hoar-frost on the bark of a tree.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_253"><a href="#sn_253">253</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Wild Woods.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Allan Cunningham's in Scotland, and these—Mr. Robert Frost's—in -Vermont U.S.A.:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Whose Woods these are I think I know,</div> - <div>His house is in the village though</div> - <div>He will not see my stopping here</div> - <div>To watch his woods fill up with snow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My little horse must think it queer,</div> - <div>To stop without a farmhouse near</div> - <div>Between the woods and frozen lake</div> - <div>The darkest evening of the year.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He gives his harness bells a shake</div> - <div>To ask if there is some mistake,</div> - <div>The only other sounds the sweep</div> - <div>Of easy wind and downy flake.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The woods are lovely dark and deep;</div> - <div>But I have promises to keep</div> - <div>And miles to go before I sleep:</div> - <div>And miles to go before I sleep.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_255"><a href="#sn_255">255</a>.</h4> - -<p>There may be a few small verbal puzzles in this fifteenth-century -carol—otherwise as clear, sharp and shining as a winter moon.</p> - -<p><i>Kechoun</i> is kitchen, and Stephen (who waited on the King at bed and -board) stepped out of it into the hall, "boar's head on hand." <i>Kyst</i>, -means cast; <i>eylet</i>, aileth; <i>wod</i> is mad. So too <i>brede</i>, I fancy. -When the roasted capon or cock crowed in its dish, Herod, in wrath and -fear cried on his torturers, "by two and all by one" to rise up and -kill.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_588" id="Page_588">[588]</a></span></p> - -<p>In later times a clay or earthenware box made all of a piece, with -a slit in it, was carried by apprentices through the streets on St. -Stephen's day, for money. And never a Catholic missionary once sailed -for the Indies, Barbary, or the Islands of the Anthropophagites, but a -box was hung by the priests in the church for alms against his return. -From the former old custom comes our "Boxing Day."</p> - -<p>In the Isle of Man, however, the Christmas Box was called the Wren Box, -and for this reason: There dwelt of old a Lorelei, siren or sea-elf, -in the emerald green creeks and caves of a solitary precipitous -island. She was as lovely as she was cruel, and her shrill sweet voice -rose amid the roaring and soughing of the waves in her steep rocky -habitation as shines a poisonous flower in the dark of a forest. Thus -she would at daybreak enchant to their doom sailors following their -craft on the sea. Leaning to listen to this music creeping by them -on the waters, they drew in to her haunts. Of their bones were coral -made; while she lived on; sang on. She was hunted down at last in her -sea-grottoes by those who, like Ulysses, had stopped their ears against -her incantations. Brought finally to bay, her beauty and bright hair -suddenly dwindled and dimmed, and she escaped in the shape of—Jenny -Wren. Alas, for Jenny Wren! condemned ever after for the woes of this -siren to be pursued with sticks and stones by young loons, cullions and -Jerry Sneaks, on every St. Stephen's Day. As goes the rhyme:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Oh, where are you going?" says milder to melder;</div> - <div>"Oh, where are you going?" says the younger to the elder.</div> - <div>"Oh, I cannot tell," says Festel to Fose;</div> - <div>"We're going to the woods," says John the Red Nose.</div> - <div class="i2">"We're going to the woods," says John the Red Nose.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Oh, what will you do there?" says milder to melder;</div> - <div>"Oh, what will you do there?" says the younger to the elder.</div> - <div>"Oh, I do not know," says Festel to Fose;</div> - <div>"To shoot the cutty wren," says John the Red Nose.</div> - <div class="i2">"To shoot the cutty wren," says John the Red Nose.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Oh, what of her corpsums?" etc. etc.,</div> - </div> - - </div> - </div> - -<p class="p-left">and a sinister company they look, especially "milder"!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_589" id="Page_589">[589]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_257"><a href="#sn_257">257</a>.</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Lullay, lullay, thou lytill child,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>Sleep and be well still;</i></div> - <div><i>The King of bliss thy father is,</i></div> - <div class="i1"><i>As it was his will.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The other night I saw a sight,</div> - <div class="i1">A mayd a cradle keep:</div> - <div>"Lullay," she sung, and said among,</div> - <div class="i1">"Lie still, my child, and sleep."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"How should I sleep? I may not for weep,</div> - <div class="i1">So sore am I begone:</div> - <div>Sleep I would; I may not for cold,</div> - <div class="i1">And clothes have I none.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"For Adam's guilt mankind is spilt</div> - <div class="i1">And that me rueth sore;</div> - <div>For Adam and Eve here shall I live</div> - <div class="i1">Thirty winter and more."</div> - </div> - - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_258"><a href="#sn_258">258</a>. "<span class="smcap">Welcome Twelfth Day</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">and here is a rhyme (entitled Jolagiafir) for a memory-game they used -to play in old times on Twelfth Night after the bean or silver-penny -had been discovered in the Twelfth Cake, and the Wassail Bowl has gone -round with the Mince Pies.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me</div> - <div>A partridge in a pear-tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me</div> - <div>Two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear-tree.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me</div> - <div>Three French hens, two turtle doves and</div> - <div>A partridge in a pear-tree.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p class="p-left">And so on to—</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me</div> - <div>Twelve lords a-leaping, eleven ladies dancing,</div> - <div>Ten pipers piping, nine drummers drumming,</div> - <div>Eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming,</div> - <div>Six geese a-laying, five gold rings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_590" id="Page_590">[590]</a></span></div> - <div>Four colly birds, three French hens,</div> - <div>Two turtle doves, and</div> - <div>A partridge in a pear-tree.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And here is a recipe for Lamb's Wool, with which to fill "the Bowl": -Take "the pulpe of rosted apples, in number four or five according to -the greatnesse of the apples (especially the pome water), and mix it -heartily in a wine quart of faire water"—or old ale—"with a due and -fair lacing of nutmegs, sugar and ginger"—until the company can wait -no longer.</p> - -<p>And here's another "Twelve"; from Scotland:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>What will be our twelve, boys?</div> - <div>What will be our twelve, boys?</div> - <div>Twelve's the Twelve Apostles;</div> - <div>Eleven's maidens in a dance;</div> - <div>Ten's the Ten Commandments;</div> - <div>Nine's the Muses o' Parnassus;</div> - <div>Eight's the table rangers;</div> - <div>Seven's the stars of heaven;</div> - <div>Six the echoing waters;</div> - <div>Five's the hymnlers o' my bower;</div> - <div>Four's the gospel-makers;</div> - <div>Three, three thrivers;</div> - <div>Twa's the lily and the rose,</div> - <div>That shine baith red and green, boys:</div> - <div>My only ane, she walks alane,</div> - <div>And evermair has dune, boys.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_259"><a href="#sn_259">259</a>.</h4> - -<p>It looks as if this carol—of Henry VI.'s reign—was once a singing -game: On the one side in the blaze of the Yule Log the Holly men with -gilded and garlanded pole; and on the other Ivy with her maidens; each -side taunting the other, and maybe tugging for prisoners. "Ivy-girls," -too, used to be burned by companies of boys, and Holly-boys by -girls—all yawping and jodelling at the sport.</p> - -<p>"Poppynguy" may perhaps be the jay, but it would be pleasanter company -for the lark, if here it means the green woodpecker. His other names -are rain-bird, hew-hole, wood-sprite, woodweele, woodspeek and yaffle, -the very sound of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591">[591]</a></span> which is like the echo of his own laughter in the -sunny green tops of the wood.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_260"><a href="#sn_260">260</a>. "<span class="smcap">When Isicles hang by the Wall.</span>"</h4> - -<p>There is a peculiar magic (which may perhaps be less apparent to -the Greenlanders) in icicles. Nor are its effects unknown to the -four-footed. In certain remote regions of Siberia there is said to be a -little animal called the Iccė-vulff (or Ice-wolf). He has prick-ears, -is a fierce feeder, and wears a coat so wondrous close and dense that -three or four of our English moles' skins laid one atop the other would -yet fall short of its match. But he seldom attains to a ripe age, and -for this reason. As soon as he is freed from his dam's snow-burrow, he -hastes off to the dwellings of the men of those parts, snuffing their -dried seal-steaks and blubber, being a most incorrigible thief and -a very wary. And such is his craft that he mocks at gins, traps and -pitfalls. But he has a habit which is often to his undoing. It is in -this wise: The heat of these hovels is apt to melt a little the snow -upon them, its water trickling and coursing softly down till long, keen -icicles are formed, upon which, whether hungry or fed, taking up his -station in a plumb line beneath them, he will squat and gloat for an -hour together, having a marvellous greedy pleasure in clear glasslike -colours. Hearing his breathing or faint snuffing, any human who -wakes within will of a sudden violently shake the wall between. This -dislodges the pendent icicles, and the squatting Iccė-vulff is pierced -to his death as with a sword.</p> - -<p>Winter indeed makes crystal even of ink. It has the power of enchanting -every imagination; and particularly Coleridge's:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,</div> - <div>Whether the summer clothe the general earth</div> - <div>With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing</div> - <div>Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch</div> - <div>Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch</div> - <div>Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall</div> - <div>Heard only in the trances of the blast,</div> - <div>Or if the secret ministry of frost</div> - <div>Shall hang them up in silent icicles,</div> - <div>Quietly shining to the quiet Moon....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_592" id="Page_592">[592]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_264"><a href="#sn_264">264</a>. "<span class="smcap">Woe weeps out Her Division when She sings.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This means, I think, that she adds her own grieved cadences to the -melody, as may one, among many voices, singing in harmony.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_265"><a href="#sn_265">265</a>. "<span class="smcap">Is like a Bubble.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This rainbow "bubble"—like Shelley's "many-coloured dome of glass" in -his <i>Adonais</i>—seems, before our very eyes, to be floating up into the -empty blue heavens, until it smalls into a bead of gold, and vanishes. -It brings to memory—though I am uncertain of the first line—an -epitaph in the church at Zennor, a village clustered above the Atlantic -on the dreamlike coast of Cornwall—an epitaph cut in fine lettering -into its slate slab, while at each corner of the slab Cherubs' heads -puff out their round cheeks, representing the winds of the world:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Sorrow, and sin, false hope, and trouble—</div> - <div>These the Four Winds that daily vex this Bubble:</div> - <div>His breath a Vapour, and his life a Span;</div> - <div>'Tis Glorious Misery to be born a Man.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_266"><a href="#sn_266">266</a>. "<span class="smcap">O, Sweet Content.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There is a jewel which no Indian mines</div> - <div>Can buy, no chymic art can counterfeit;</div> - <div>It makes men rich in greatest poverty;</div> - <div>Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold,</div> - <div>The homely whistle to sweet music's strain:</div> - <div class="i1">Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent,</div> - <div class="i1">That much in little, all in naught—Content.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Art Thou poor ... Art Thou rich.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The subject being riches, here from Hugh Rhodes, is a nourishing crumb -or two of advice. <i>Cautions</i> the poem is called, and it may be found in -the <i>Book of Nurture</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He that spendeth much,</div> - <div class="i1">And getteth nought;</div> - <div>He that oweth much,</div> - <div class="i1">And hath nought;</div> - <div>He that looketh in his purse</div> - <div class="i1">And findeth nought,—</div> - <div>He may be sorry,</div> - <div class="i1">And say nought.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593">[593]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He that may and will not,</div> - <div>He then that would shall not.</div> - <div>He that would and cannot</div> - <div>May repent and sigh not.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He that sweareth</div> - <div class="i1">Till no man trust him;</div> - <div>He that lieth</div> - <div class="i1">Till no man believe him;</div> - <div>He that borroweth</div> - <div class="i1">Till no man will lend him;</div> - <div>Let him go where</div> - <div class="i1">No man knoweth him.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He that hath a good master,</div> - <div class="i1">And cannot keep him;</div> - <div>He that hath a good servant,</div> - <div class="i1">And is not content with him;</div> - <div>He that hath such conditions,</div> - <div class="i1">That no man loveth him;</div> - <div>May well know other,</div> - <div class="i1">But few men will know him.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<p>And, to make trebly sure:</p> - -<p>Three false sisters: "Perhaps," "May be," "I dare say."</p> - -<p>Three timid brothers: "Hush!" "Stop!" "Listen!"</p> - - -<h4 id="note_269"><a href="#sn_269">269</a>. "<span class="smcap">Lord Rameses of Egypt sighed.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The most ancient poem I know of consists of such a sigh. It comes from -an Egyptian tomb, was composed about 5000 years ago, and might have -been written by some melancholy soul at his sick-room window yesterday -afternoon. For, after all, these ancients whose mummies are now a -mere wonder for the curious, all lived, as Raleigh says, "in the same -newness of time which we call 'old time.'"</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Death is before me to-day</div> - <div>Like the recovery of a sick man,</div> - <div>Like going forth into a garden after sickness.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Death is before me to-day</div> - <div>Like the odour of myrrh,</div> - <div>Like sitting under the sail on a windy day....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_594" id="Page_594">[594]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Death is before me to-day</div> - <div>Like the course of the freshet,</div> - <div>Like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Death is before me to-day</div> - <div>As a man longs to see his house</div> - <div>When he has spent years in captivity."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_272"><a href="#sn_272">272</a>. "<span class="smcap">These Strong and Fair....</span>"</h4> - -<p>And here is another poem by William Barnes which I have ventured to -spell not as it appears in its original dialect, but in the usual way:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If souls should only shine as bright</div> - <div>In heaven as in earthly light,</div> - <div>And nothing better were the case,</div> - <div>How comely still, in shape and face,</div> - <div>Would many reach that happy place,—</div> - <div>The hopeful souls that in their prime,</div> - <div>Have seemed a-taken before their time—</div> - <div class="i1">The young that died in beauty.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But when one's limbs have lost their strength</div> - <div>A-toiling through a lifetime's length,</div> - <div>And over cheeks a-growing old</div> - <div>The slowly-wasting years have rolled</div> - <div>The deepening wrinkles' hollow fold;</div> - <div>When life is ripe, then death do call</div> - <div>For less of thought, than when it fall</div> - <div class="i1">On young folks in their beauty....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But still the dead shall more than keep</div> - <div>The beauty of their early sleep;</div> - <div>Where comely looks shall never wear</div> - <div>Uncomely, under toil and care,</div> - <div>The fair, at death be always fair,</div> - <div>Still fair to living, thought and love,</div> - <div>And fairer still to God above,</div> - <div class="i1">Than when they died in beauty.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_273"><a href="#sn_273">273</a>.</h4> - -<p>I remember actually coming upon this poem (in Mr. Nahum's second book), -and how I twisted my head and looked up at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_595" id="Page_595">[595]</a></span> the quiet dark-socketed -skull in its alcove in the turret room. It had no alarm for me then, -though I can recall cold moments of dread or confusion, when I was -a boy, at the thought of death. Then—or was it some time after?—I -turned the page and found the following poem by Thomas Campion, and, -in Mr. Nahum's writing, this scrawl at the foot of it: "Yes, but the -vision first."</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The man of life upright,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose guiltless heart is free</div> - <div>From all dishonest deeds,</div> - <div class="i1">Or thought of vanity;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The man whose silent days</div> - <div class="i1">In harmless joys are spent,</div> - <div>Whom hopes cannot delude</div> - <div class="i1">Nor sorrow discontent:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>That man needs neither towers</div> - <div class="i1">Nor armour for defence,</div> - <div>Nor secret vaults to fly</div> - <div class="i1">From thunder's violence:</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He only can behold</div> - <div class="i1">With unaffrighted eyes</div> - <div>The horrors of the deep</div> - <div class="i1">And terrors of the skies.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Thus scorning all the cares</div> - <div class="i1">That fate or fortune brings,</div> - <div>He makes the heaven his book,</div> - <div class="i1">His wisdom heavenly things;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Good thoughts his only friends,</div> - <div class="i1">His wealth a well-spent age,</div> - <div>The earth his sober inn</div> - <div class="i1">And quiet pilgrimage.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>" ... Yet suffer us, O Lord, not to repine, whether in the morning, at -noon, or at midnight, that is to say, in our cradle, in our youth, or -old age, we go to take our long sleep; but let us make this reckoning -of our years, that if we can live no longer, <i>that</i> is unto us our old -age; for he that liveth so long as thou appointest him (though he die -in the pride of his beauty) dieth an old man...."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596">[596]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_274"><a href="#sn_274">274</a>. "<span class="smcap">Adieu! farewell Earth's Bliss.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This solemn dirge was written in "time of pestilence,"—such a time -as Daniel Defoe tells of in his "Journal of the Plague Year." The -Elizabethan poets brooded endlessly on the mystery of death. A music -haunts their words like that of muffled bells, as in John Fletcher's -poem:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Come hither, you that hope, and you that cry,</div> - <div class="i5">Leave off complaining!</div> - <div class="i2">Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never die,</div> - <div class="i5">Are here remaining.</div> - <div class="i2">Come hither, fools, and blush you stay so long</div> - <div class="i5">From being blessed.</div> - <div class="i2">And mad men, worse than you, that suffer wrong,</div> - <div class="i5">Yet seek no rest!...</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And in William Davenant's:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Wake, all the dead! What ho! what ho!</div> - <div>How soundly they sleep whose pillows lie low!</div> - <div>They mind not poor lovers, who walk above</div> - <div>On the decks of the world in storms of love.</div> - <div>No whisper now nor glance shall pass</div> - <div>Through wickets or through panes of glass,</div> - <div>For our windows and doors are shut and barred.</div> - <div>Lie close in the church, and in the churchyard!</div> - <div>In every grave make room, make room!</div> - <div>The world's at an end, and we come, we come!...</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_275"><a href="#sn_275">275</a>. "<span class="smcap">I who loved with all my life Love with all my death.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Not full twelve years twice-told, a weary breath</div> - <div>I have exchanged for a wishèd death.</div> - <div>My course was short, the longer is my rest,</div> - <div>God takes them soonest whom he loveth best;</div> - <div>For he that's born to-day and dies to-morrow,</div> - <div>Loseth some days of mirth, but months of sorrow.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And this reminds me of an epitaph I chanced on in the graveyard at -Manorbier whose ruinous castle towers above the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_597" id="Page_597">[597]</a></span> green turf of its -narrow ocean inlet, as if it were keeping a long tryst with the clocked -church tower on the height:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Weep not for her ye friends that's dear,</div> - <div>Weep for your sins, for death is near—</div> - <div>You see by her, she [was] cut down soon.</div> - <div>Her morning Sun went down at noon.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And then there are these two unforgettable fragments, the one from the -Scots of John Wedderburn (1542), and the other of a century before, its -authorship unknown:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <h4><span class="smcap">Who's at my Window?</span></h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Who's at my window, who, who?</div> - <div>Go from my window, go, go!</div> - <div>Who calleth there so like a stranger?</div> - <div class="i1">Go from my window—go!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Lord, I am here, a wretched mortal</div> - <div>That for Thy mercy does cry and call—</div> - <div>Unto Thee, my Lord Celestial,</div> - <div class="i1">See who is at my window, who.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <h4><span class="smcap">The Call.</span></h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Come home again, come home again;</div> - <div>Mine own sweet heart, come home again!</div> - <div class="i3">You are gone astray</div> - <div class="i3">Out of your way,</div> - <div>Therefore, sweet heart, come home again!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_277"><a href="#sn_277">277</a>. "<span class="smcap">Hark! now everything is still.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Death stands above me, whispering low</div> - <div class="i1">I know not what into my ear;</div> - <div>Of his strange language all I know</div> - <div class="i1">Is, there is not a word of fear.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Walter Savage Landor</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">'Tis now full tide 'tween Night and Day.</span>" (line 17)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust;</div> - <div>And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;</div> - <div>Grow rich in that which never taketh rust;</div> - <div>Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_598" id="Page_598">[598]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might</div> - <div>To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be;</div> - <div>Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light,</div> - <div>That doth both shine and give us sight to see.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O, take fast hold! let that light be thy guide</div> - <div>In this small course which birth draws out to death—</div> - <div>And think how evil becometh him to slide,</div> - <div>Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see:</div> - <div class="i2">Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Sir Philip Sidney</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_278"><a href="#sn_278">278</a>.</h4> - -<p>Of the <i>Lyke-wake Dirge</i> is known neither the age nor the author. The -body from which the "saule" or spirit within is fled away lies in its -shroud, and the dirge tells of that spirit's journey. Its word "sleet," -says Mr. Sidgwick, means either salt, for it was the custom to place in -a wooden platter beside the dead, earth and salt for emblems, the one -of corruption, the other of the immortal; or, as some suppose, "sleet" -should be <i>fleet</i>, meaning embers or water or house-room. "Whinnies" -means gorse. To explain the full meaning of Bridge of Dread would need -many pages—but does not much of that meaning haunt in the very music -and solemnity of the words?</p> - - -<h4 id="note_279"><a href="#sn_279">279</a>.</h4> - -<p>Next this poem in Mr. Nahum's book was "Lead, Kindly Light," and there -was a strange picture for it hanging in the round tower—the picture -of a small becalmed ship, clumsy of rig and low in the water which was -smooth and green as glass. In the midst of the ship there was piled -high what might be taken for a vast heap of oranges, their fair reddish -colour blazing in the rays of the sun that was about to plunge out -of the greenish sky below the line of the west. But what even more -particularly attracted my eye at the time was that ship's figurehead—a -curious head and shoulders as if with wings, and of a kind of far -beauty or wonder entirely past me to describe. Many years afterwards I -read that this poem was written by John Henry Newman (one who even in -his young days at Oxford was "never less alone than when alone"), when -his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_599" id="Page_599">[599]</a></span> mind was perplexed and unhappy, and he himself had time to ponder -awhile, because the boat in which he was sailing to England had been -for some days becalmed off the coast of Spain.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_281"><a href="#sn_281">281</a>. "<span class="smcap">Fear no more.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Philaster.</i><span class="i1">Fie, fie,</span></div> - <div class="i5 hangingindent">So young and so dissembling! fear'st thou not death?</div> - <div class="i5">Can boys contemn that?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Bellario.</i><span class="i1">O, what boy is he</span></div> - <div class="i5">Can be content to live to be a man,</div> - <div class="i5">That sees the best of men thus passionate,</div> - <div class="i5">Thus without reason?</div> - </div> - - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Philaster.</i><span class="i1">O, but thou dost not know what 'tis to die.</span></div> - </div> - - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Bellario.</i><span class="i1">Yes, I do know, my Lord!</span></div> - <div class="i5">'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep,</div> - <div class="i5">A quiet resting from all jealousy;</div> - <div class="i5">A thing we all pursue; I know besides</div> - <div class="i5">It is but giving over of a game</div> - <div class="i5">That must be lost.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>From <i>Philaster</i>: <span class="smcap">Francis Beaumont</span> and <span class="smcap">John Fletcher</span></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_284"><a href="#sn_284">284</a>. "<span class="smcap">All the Flowers.</span>"</h4> - -<p>" ... But those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed -by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three—that -is, burnet, wild thyme, and watermints. Therefore you are to set whole -alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread."</p> - -<p class="r1"><i>An Essay on Gardens</i>, <span class="smcap">Francis Bacon</span></p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bring, too, some branches forth of Daphne's hair,</div> - <div>And gladdest myrtle for the posts to wear,</div> - <div>With spikenard weaved and marjorams between</div> - <div>And starred with yellow-golds and meadows-queen.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>The very names indeed of the aromatic herbs seem to "perfume the -air"—bergamot, lavender, meadowsweet, costmary, southernwood, -woodruff, balm, germander. And flowers even though dead remain sweet in -their dust, as every bowl of potpourri proclaims. To have "a repository -of odours" always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[600]</a></span> with them, when streets were foul and pestilence -was a peril, gentle-people would in old times carry fresh nosegays -or pomanders. The pomanders were of many kinds; an orange stuffed -with cloves, etc., for the hand; or—for pocket or chatelaine—some -little curiously-devised receptacle of silver containing tiny phials -of precious essences—possibly no bigger than a plum. Or they might -be compounded of rare ingredients: "Your only way to make a good -pomander is this. Take an ounce of the purest garden mould, cleansed -and steeped seven days in change of motherless rose water. Then take -the best labdanum, benjoin, both storaxes, ambergris, civet, and musk. -Incorporate them together, and work them into what form you please. -This, if your breath be not too valiant, will make you smell as sweet -as any lady's dog."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_285"><a href="#sn_285">285</a>.</h4> - -<p>I have pondered over the thirteenth and eighteenth lines of this poem, -but am not yet certain of all that they were intended to convey. But -what scope for the imagination is in it! The next epitaph is by Stephen -Hawes, whose <i>Passetyme of Pleasure or History of Graunde Amoure, and -La Bel Pucel</i>, was printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1509:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O mortal folk, you may behold and see</div> - <div class="i1">How I lie here, sometime a mighty knight.</div> - <div>The end of joy and all prosperity</div> - <div class="i1">Is death at last, thorough his course and might:</div> - <div class="i3">For though the day be never so long,</div> - <div class="i3">At last the bells ringeth to evensong.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And the lines following are said to have been found between the pages -of Sir Walter Raleigh's Bible in the Gate House at Westminster, having -been written by him, it is surmised, during the night before he—an -ageing man of sixty-six—was beheaded:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Even such is Time, that takes in trust</div> - <div class="i1">Our youth, our joys, our all we have,</div> - <div>And pays us but with earth and dust;</div> - <div class="i1">Who, in the dark and silent grave,</div> - <div>When we have wandered all our ways,</div> - <div>Shuts up the story of our days.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>But from this earth, this grave, this dust,</div> - <div>My God shall raise me up, I trust.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[601]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_286"><a href="#sn_286">286</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sidney, O Sidney is dead.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"Sir Philip Sydney, Knight," says John Aubrey, "was the most -accomplished courtier of his time. He was not only of an excellent -witt, but extremely beautiful; he much resembled his sister. He was -a person of great courage. Among others Mr. Edmund Spenser made his -addresse to him, and brought his <i>Faery Queen</i>. Sir Philip was busy -at his study, and his servant delivered Mr. Spenser's booke to his -master, who layd it by, thinking it might be such kind of stuffe as -he was frequently troubled with. When Sir Philip perused it, he was -so exceedingly delighted with it, that he was extremely sorry he was -gonne, and where to send for him he knew not. After much enquiry he -learned his lodgeing, and sent for him, and mightily caressed him.... -From this time there was a great friendship between them, to his dying -day.... His body was putt in a leaden coffin (which after the firing of -Paule's, I myself sawe), and with wonderfull greate state was carried -to St. Paule's church, when he was buried in our Ladie's Chapell. There -solempnized this funerall all the nobility and great officers of Court."</p> - -<p>Here is part of a letter written to him, by his father, Sir Henry -Sidney, in 1566, when Philip was a boy at Shrewsbury School:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Son Philip</span>.... Above all things, tell no untruth. -No, not in trifles. The custom of it is nought: and let it -not satisfy you that, for a time, the hearers take it for a -truth; yet after it will be known as it is, to your shame. For -there cannot be a greater reproach to a gentleman, than to be -accounted a liar.... Remember, my son! the noble blood you are -descended of by your mother's side: and think that only by -virtuous life and good action you may be an ornament to that -illustrious family; otherwise, through vice and sloth, you may -be counted <i>labes generis</i>, "a spot of your kin," one of the -greatest curses that can happen to man.</p></blockquote> - -<p>This next fragment is from a letter written on October 18, 1580, by Sir -Philip Sidney himself to his younger brother Robert (then seventeen). -This Robert six years afterwards fought with him at Zutphen. He grew up -a gallant gentleman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[602]</a></span> was created Earl of Leicester, and in his leisure -wrote words to fit the music of John Dowland—afterwards lutenist to -Charles I.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Brother</span>,</p> - -<p class="i4">For the money you have received, assure yourself (for it is -true), there is nothing I spend so pleaseth me; as that which -is for you. If ever I have ability, you shall find it so: if -not, yet shall not any brother living be better beloved than -you, of me.... Look to your diet, sweet Robin! and hold your -heart in courage and virtue. Truly, great part of my comfort -is in you!.... Be careful of yourself, and I shall never have -cares.... I write this to you as one, that for myself have -given over the delight in the world; but wish to you as much, -if not more, than to myself.... God bless you, sweet Boy! and -accomplish the joyful hope I conceive of you.... Lord how I -have babbled! Once again, farewell, dearest Brother!</p> - -<p class="i6">Your most loving and careful brother,</p> - -<p class="smcap r1">Philip Sidney</p></blockquote> - -<p>And here in a few words is a fleeting glimpse of this renowned man as -he appeared amidst the splendour and magnificence of the Tournament, -during the Anjou Fetes in London, in 1581, five years before his death:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Then proceeded Master Philip Sidney, in very sumptuous manner -with armour part blue and the rest gilt and engraven.... He -had four pages that rode on his four spare horses" (richly -caparisoned in gold and pearls and feathers of silver) "who -had cassock hats and Venetian hose all of cloth of silver laid -with gold lace and hats of the same with gold bands and white -feathers: and each one a pair of white buskins." ... There -followed him in as rich and splendid array his gentlemen, -yeomen, and trumpeters.</p></blockquote> - - -<h4 id="note_287"><a href="#sn_287">287</a>. "<span class="smcap">His Picture in a Sheet.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Of John Donne's Book of Poems there was nothing in Mr. Nahum's first -volume, much in the others. But what I then read of them I little -understood. It is a poetry that awaits the mind as the body grows -older, and when we have ourselves learned the experience of life with -which it is concerned. Not that the simplest poetry will then lose -anything of its grace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[603]</a></span> and truth and beauty—far rather it shines the -more clearly, since age needs it the more.</p> - -<p>"<i>His Picture in a sheet</i>" refers to a drawing (prefixed to Donne's -<i>Poems</i>') of his stone effigy. This shows him draped with a shroud, -and may now be seen in St. Paul's Cathedral, of which he was the dean, -and in whose pulpit a few days before his death he preached his last -valedictory or farewell sermon.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <h4>"<span class="smcap">Living to Eternity.</span>"</h4> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How happy is he born and taught</div> - <div>That serveth not another's will;</div> - <div>Whose armour is his honest thought,</div> - <div>And simple truth his utmost skill!...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Who God doth late and early pray</div> - <div>More of his grace than gifts to lend;</div> - <div>And entertains the harmless day</div> - <div>With a well chosen book or friend;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>This man is freed from servile bands</div> - <div>Of hope to rise or fear to fall:</div> - <div>Lord of himself, though not of lands,</div> - <div>And having nothing, yet hath all.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>Sir Thomas More was such a man. On Monday, July 5th, 1535, the night -before he was beheaded, he wrote ("with a cole") this letter of -farewell to his daughter Margaret Roper. He had seen her for the last -time when she openly met and kissed him in the midst of his enemies and -of the throngs on Tower Wharf, as he came from Judgment:</p> - -<p>"Oure Lorde Blesse you good daughter, & youre good husbande, & youre -lyttle boye, & all yours, & all my children, & all my Godde chyldren -and all oure frendes.... I cumber you good <i>Margaret</i> much, but I would -be sory, if it should be any longer than to morow. For it is saint -<i>Thomas</i> even, & the utas of saint <i>Peter</i>: & therfore to morow long -I to go to God: it were a day verye mete & convenient for me. I never -liked your maner toward me better, than whan you kissed me laste: for I -love when doughterly love, and deere charitye, hath no leysure to loke -to worldlye curtesy. Farewell my dere chylde, & pray for me & I shall -for you & all youre frendes, that we maye merilye mete in heaven...."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[604]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_288"><a href="#sn_288">288</a>. "<span class="smcap">Do Thou the same.</span>"</h4> - -<p>So too Walter Savage Landor:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ileft1">... Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold</div> - <div class="i2">Than daisies in the mould,</div> - <div>Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate,</div> - <div class="i2">His name, and life's brief date.</div> - <div>Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be,</div> - <div class="i2">And, O, pray too for me!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_290"><a href="#sn_290">290</a>. "<span class="smcap">A pretty Bud.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"To die young," in William Drummond's words, "is to do that soon, and -in some fewer days, which once thou must do; it is but the giving over -of a game, that after never so many hazards must be lost."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_291"><a href="#sn_291">291</a>. "<span class="smcap">A-left asleep.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>May! Be thou never graced with birds that sing,</div> - <div class="i4">Nor Flora's pride!</div> - <div>In thee all flowers and roses spring—</div> - <div class="i4">Mine, only died.</div> - <div class="i1"><i>In obitum MS. X<sup>o</sup> Maij.</i> 1614, <span class="smcap">William Browne</span></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_293"><a href="#sn_293">293</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sunk Lyonesse.</span>"</h4> - -<p>There is a legend—recorded in an ancient monastic chronicle—that in -the days of Arthur there stretched between Land's End and the Scillies -a country of castles, of fair towns, and landscapes, named Lyonesse. -When the tumult of the last great Arthurian battle was over, there -befell a cataclysm of nature, and in a night of tempest this whole -region was engulfed beneath the seas.</p> - -<p>What truth is in this legend no certain history relates. But when the -vast Atlantic breakers begin to lull after storm, to lie listening -in the watches of the night is to hear, it would seem, deep-sunken -belfries of bells sounding in the waters, and siren-like lamentations. -I have myself heard this, and fantasy though it may be, if the ear is -once beguiled into its deceit, the bells clash and chime on and on in -the imagination, mingled with the enormous lully of the surges, until -at last, one falls asleep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[605]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_299"><a href="#sn_299">299</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sing no sad Songs for Me.</span>"</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—and here is another such happy and tender word of farewell—but from -one unknown:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When from the world I should be ta'en,</div> - <div>And from earth's necessary pain,</div> - <div>Then let no blacks be worn for me,</div> - <div>Not in a ring, my dear, by thee.</div> - <div>But this bright diamond, let it be</div> - <div>Worn in rememberance of me.</div> - <div>And when it sparkles in your eye,</div> - <div>Think 'tis my shadow passeth by.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_302"><a href="#sn_302">302</a>. "<span class="smcap">Readen ov a Head-Stwone.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This poem, again, is spelt as the words would be pronounced by the -country people of Dorset, the country in which William Barnes was born -and lived nearly all his long life. Their way of speech is slower -than in common English, and the words, especially those with the two -dots, or diaeresis, over them, should be lingered over a little in -pronouncing them.</p> - -<p>Londoners have a way of being scornfully amused at country speech—in -their ignorance that it is older and far more beautiful than their own -clipped and nasal manner of talking. But half an hour with the great -<i>Dialect Dictionary</i> will prove how inexhaustibly rich the English -language once was and still is in words made, used, and loved by folk -unlearned in books, but with keen and lively eyes in their heads, quick -to see the delight and livingness of a thing, and with the wits to give -it a name fitting it as close as a skin.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_303"><a href="#sn_303">303</a>. "<span class="smcap">Care is heavy.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dear God, though Thy all-powerful hand</div> - <div>Should so direct my earthly fate</div> - <div>That I may seem unfortunate</div> - <div>To them who do not understand</div> - <div>That all things follow Thy decree,</div> - <div>Staunchly I'll bear what e'er's Thy will—</div> - <div>Praying Thee but to grant me still</div> - <div>That none shall come to harm through me;</div> - <div>For, God, although Thou knowest all,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606">[606]</a></span></div> - <div>I am too young to comprehend</div> - <div>The windings to my journey's end;</div> - <div>I fear upon the road to fall</div> - <div class="i1">In the worst sin of all that be</div> - <div class="i1">And thrust my brother in the sea.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Conal O'Riordan</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_304"><a href="#sn_304">304</a>. "<span class="smcap">Mother, never mourn.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"It was my own mother (wrote Thomas Cantimpratanus about 1260) who told -me the story which I am about to relate. My grandmother had a firstborn -son of most excellent promise, comely beyond the wont of children, at -whose death she mourned ... with a grief that could not be consoled, -until one day, as she went by the way, she saw in her vision a band -of youths moving onwards, as it seemed to her, with exceeding great -joy; and she, remembering her son and weeping that she saw him not in -this joyful band, suddenly beheld him trailing weary footsteps after -the rest. Then with a grievous cry the mother asked: 'How comes it, -my son, that thou goest alone, lagging thus behind the rest?' Then he -opened the side of his cloak and showed her a heavy water-pot, saying: -'Behold, dear mother, the tears which thou hast vainly shed for me, -through the weight whereof I must needs linger behind the rest! Thou -therefore shalt turn thy tears to God: then only shall I be freed from -the burden wherewith I am now grieved.'"</p> - -<p>But not all dreamers are so rebuked or so comforted. St. Augustine, a -loving son, pined in vain:</p> - -<p>"If the dead could come in dreams," he wrote, "my pious mother would -no night fail to visit me. Far be the thought that she should, by a -happier life, have been made so cruel that, when aught vexes my heart, -she should not even console in a dream the son whom she loved with an -only love."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_310"><a href="#sn_310">310</a>. <span class="smcap">Tom o' Bedlam.</span></h4> - -<p>This poem has been at hide-and-seek with the world for many years past. -Mr. Frank Sidgwick has now played Seek, however, and has tracked it -down in the British Museum in a manuscript, No. 24665, inscribed "Giles -Earle—his book, 1615." In this manuscript the poem consists of eight -stanzas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[607]</a></span> of ten lines each, with a chorus of five lines. The version in -this book is only of twenty-five lines, as they were arranged by Mrs. -Meynell in her beautiful Anthology, <i>The Flower of the Mind</i>. Here are -the chief differences which Mr. Sidgwick has very kindly allowed me to -collect from his account of his search:</p> - -<p>Line 1, "moon" is <i>morn</i>. Line 2, "lovely" is <i>lonely</i>, "marrow" is -<i>morrow</i>. Line 10, "rounded" is <i>wounded</i>. Line 16, "a heart" is a -<i>host</i>. And line 21, "with" is <i>by</i>. It is a happy exercise of the wits -to choose between them and to find reasons for one's choice. When and -by whom the poem was written is not yet known. It remains a shining -jewel in the crown of the most modest of all men of genius, Mr. Anon.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_314"><a href="#sn_314">314</a>. "<span class="smcap">What's in there.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This far-carrying rhyme belongs to the ancient and famous game of Dump. -"He who speaks first in it," says Dr. Gregor, "or laughs first, or lets -his teeth be seen, gets nine nips, nine nobs, nine double douncornes, -an' a gueed blow on the back o' the head."</p> - -<p>The <i>faht</i> and <i>fahr</i>, I suppose, are the pleasant Scots way of saying -<i>what</i> and <i>where</i>.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_316"><a href="#sn_316">316</a>.</h4> - -<p>So may the omission of a few commas effect a wonder in the imagination. -To the imagination indeed there is nothing absurd in, "I saw the sun -at twelve o'clock at night"—for one can actually <i>see</i> in the "little -nowhere of the mind" both burning sun and black night <i>together</i>: as -once in a dream I myself was enchanted by three moons in the sky, -shining in their silver above waters as wide as those of Milton's -curfew. So, too, even mere day-by-day objects will take on themselves a -strangeness and beauty never seen or "marked" before, if (like Marcus -Aurelius and his loaf of bread) we will only "glut" the eye on them. "I -see a rose," said an old woman on her deathbed, "but if, in childhood -and youth, I had seen it closer, what a rose on the threshold it had -been!"</p> - -<p>Here is another old nursery "nonsense" rhyme that makes almost as -lively pictures in the mind:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There was a man of double deed</div> - <div>Who sowed his garden full of seed;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[608]</a></span></div> - <div>And when the seed began to grow,</div> - <div>'Twas like a garden full of snow;</div> - <div>And when the snow began to fall,</div> - <div>Like birds it was upon the wall;</div> - <div>And when the birds began to fly,</div> - <div>'Twas like a shipwreck in the sky;</div> - <div>And when the sky began to crack,</div> - <div>'Twas like a stick upon my back;</div> - <div>And when my back began to smart,</div> - <div>'Twas like a pen-knife in my heart;</div> - <div>And when my heart began to bleed,</div> - <div>Then I was dead—and dead indeed.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_319"><a href="#sn_319">319</a>. "<span class="smcap">It Had Become a Glimmering Girl.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"The Tuatha De Danaan—the divine Children of Danu which forgotten -centuries ago invaded Ireland—can take all shapes, and those that -are in the waters take often the shape of fish. A woman of Burren, in -Galway, says, 'There are more of them in the sea than on the land ...,' -and another Galway woman says, 'Surely those things are in the sea as -well as on land. My father was out fishing one night off Tyrone. And -something came beside the boat that had eyes shining like candles. And -then a wave came in, and a storm rose all in a minute, and whatever was -in the wave, the weight of it had like to sink the boat. And then they -saw that it was a woman in the sea that had the shining eyes. So my -father went to the priest, and he bid him always to take a drop of holy -water and a pinch of salt out in the boat with him, and nothing could -harm him.'"</p> - -<p class="smcap r1">W. B. Yeats</p> - - -<h4 id="note_321"><a href="#sn_321">321</a>. "<span class="smcap">One Without.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Was it the sound of a footfall I heard</div> - <div>On the cold flag stone?</div> - <div>Or the cry of a wandering far night bird,</div> - <div>On the sea-winds blown?</div> - <div>Was that a human shape that stood?</div> - <div>In the shadow below,</div> - <div>Or but the mist of the moonlit wood</div> - <div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609">[609]</a></span></div> - <div>As it hovered low?</div> - <div>Was it the voice of a child that called</div> - <div>From the hill side steep?</div> - <div>Or, O, but the wind as it softly lulled</div> - <div>The world to sleep?</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Elizabeth Ramal</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_325"><a href="#sn_325">325</a>. "<span class="smcap">Broome, Broome on Hill</span>."</h4> - -<p>The story is of how a bright lady comes to keep her tryst with a -knight-at-arms in the golden broom of Hive Hill. She finds him under -a charm, an enchantment, asleep; and having left her ring on his -finger for proof of her coming, she steals away. Presently after he -awakes—her presence gone. To leave a quiet and happy room vacant at -night is sometimes to have this experience, as it were, <i>reversed</i>. -There comes a feeling that you being gone, gentler visitants may enter -and share its solitude—while its earthly occupant sleeps overhead, and -one by one the stars sink to their setting.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_326"><a href="#sn_326">326</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Changeling.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">When larks gin sing</div> - <div class="i2">Away we fling,</div> - <div>And babes new-born steal as we go;</div> - <div class="i2">An elf instead</div> - <div class="i2">We leave in bed,</div> - <div>And wind out, laughing, Ho, ho, ho!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_329"><a href="#sn_329">329</a>. "<span class="smcap">Mariana.</span>"</h4> - -<p>It is difficult to read this poem slowly and intently enough if one is -to experience to the <i>full</i> the living things and sights and sounds -that by its words are charmed into the mind—the hushed solitude, the -desolation. Take even, of all there is, but the "peering mouse" in -the sixth stanza—his sharp nose sniffing the air beneath the small -wooden arch of his dark-glimmering mousery, where miche and shriek and -gambol his fellows behind the mouldering wainscot. Or stay for a moment -looking down on the "marsh mosses" in the third stanza—of a green as -lively as a fairy's mantle in the sunlight, gilding the waters of the -blackened sluice. So piece by piece the words of the poem build up in -the imagination this solitary house with its forsaken Mariana, whom -Tennyson himself had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_610" id="Page_610">[610]</a></span> seen in the dream conferred on him by another -poet, Shakespeare, in <i>Measure for Measure</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Isabella.</i><span class="i1">Can this be so? did <i>Angelo</i> so leave her?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent4"><i>Duke.</i><span class="i2">Left her in her teares, and dried not one of them - with his comfort: swallowed his vowes whole, - pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in - few, bestowed on her her owne lamentation, - which she yet weares for his sake: and he, a - marble to her teares, is washed with them, but - relents not.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent4"><i>Isabella.</i><span class="i1">What a merit were it in death to take this poore - maid from the world....</span></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_332"><a href="#sn_332">332</a>. "<span class="smcap">Yes Tor.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Turn your back on Okehampton and break out due South into the wilds of -Dartmoor, and there, "summering" together "beneath the empty skies," -lie titanic Yes Tor and High Willes, rearing their bare vast shapes 700 -yards into the air.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_333"><a href="#sn_333">333</a>. "<span class="smcap">To heare the Mandrake grone.</span>" (stanza 2)</h4> - -<p>Of the dangerous plant Mandrake ("its root in something the shape and -appearance of a man") is concocted Mandragora, one of the "drowsy -syrups." "The leaves and fruit be also dangerous, for they cause deadly -sleep, and peevish drowsiness." The fruit is "of the bigness of a -reasonable pippin, and as yellow as gold when it is thoroughly ripe": -fair without, ashes within. It is said that the mandrake's screams, -when it is dragged out of the ground, will send the hearer mad. So -the gatherer should first seal his ears, then tie the plant to a -dog's tail and hike him on to haul it out of its haunt! "Avicenna the -Arabian physician asserts that a Jew at Metz had a mandragore with a -human head, and the legs and body of a cock, which lived five weeks, -and was fed on lavender and earthworms, and, when dead, was preserved -in spirits." Even up to the nineteenth century dreaders or wishers of -witchcraft were wont to carry these monstrous little Erdmannikens in -bosom or pocket for an amulet or charm.</p> - -<p>The "Basilisk," old books maintain, is a fabulous beast whose icy glare -freezes the gazer, and is mortal. Approach her then with a mirror; and -courage be your guide!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611">[611]</a></span></p> - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Hemlock, Henbane, Adders-tongue.</span>" (line 10)</h4> - -<p>Hemlock is that tall, dim-spotted plant of a sad green colour, and of -a scent "strong, heady and bad," which is "very cold and dangerous," -especially when "digged in the dark."</p> - -<p>Clammy henbane is woolly-leafed, with hollow dark-eyed flowers of a -purple-veined dingy yellow. "It lusts to grow in rancid soil, To 'stil -its deadly oil."</p> - -<p>Moonwort is the meek-looking little flowering fern that has the power -to break locks, and to make any horse that chances to tread upon it -cast his shoes.</p> - -<p>The livid-flowered, cherry like-fruited dwale, enoron, or nightshade is -the most "daungerous" plant in England. While leopard's bane—though it -bears a bright-yellow daisy-like flower, and witches are said to fear -sun-colour—is venomous to animals.</p> - -<p>I am uncertain of adder's tongue, for the fern of this name cures sore -eyes; and cuckoo-pint which is also so called, is "a remedy for poison -and the plague"!</p> - -<p>Of these six insidious plants only one is openly mentioned by -Shakespeare, and they appear to have few country names, unlike, -for example, the purple orchis, "which has so many," says Nicholas -Culpeper, "that they would fill a sheet of paper": long-purples, -dead-men's fingers, crake-feet, giddy-gandy, neat-legs, geese and -goslings, and gander-gooses, being a few choice specimens.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_334"><a href="#sn_334">334</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Raven.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Underneath an old oak tree</div> - <div>There was of swine a huge company,</div> - <div>That grunted as they crunched the mast:</div> - <div>For that was ripe, and fell full fast.</div> - <div>Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high:</div> - <div>One acorn they left, and no more might you spy.</div> - <div>Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly:</div> - <div>He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy!</div> - <div>Blacker was he than blackest jet,</div> - <div>Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He picked up the acorn and buried it straight</div> - <div>By the side of a river both deep and great</div> - <div class="i2">Where then did the Raven go?</div> - <div class="i2">He went high and low,</div> - <div>Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_612" id="Page_612">[612]</a></span></div> - <div class="i2">Many Autumns, many Springs</div> - <div class="i2">Travelled he with wandering wings:</div> - <div class="i2">Many Summers, many Winters—</div> - <div class="i2">I can't tell half his adventures.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>At length he came back, and with him a She,</div> - <div>And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree,</div> - <div>They built them a nest in the topmost bough,</div> - <div>And young ones they had, and were happy enow.</div> - <div>But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise,</div> - <div>His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes.</div> - <div>He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,</div> - <div>But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,</div> - <div>At length he brought down the poor Raven's own oak.</div> - <div>His young ones were killed; for they could not depart,</div> - <div>And their mother did die of a broken heart.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever;</div> - <div>And they floated it down on the course of the river.</div> - <div>They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip,</div> - <div>And with this tree and others they made a good ship.</div> - <div>The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land</div> - <div>Such a storm there did rise as no ship could withstand.</div> - <div>It bulged on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast:</div> - <div>Round and round flew the raven, and cawed to the blast.</div> - <div>He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls—</div> - <div>See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls!</div> - <div class="i1">Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet,</div> - <div>And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet,</div> - <div>And he thanked him again and again for this treat:</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">They had taken his all, and <span class="smcap">REVENGE IT WAS SWEET</span>!</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">S. T. Coleridge</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>"Seventeen or eighteen years ago," wrote Coleridge in 1817, "an artist -of some celebrity was so pleased with this doggerel that he amused -himself with the thought of making a Child's Picture Book of it; but he -could not hit on a picture for the four lines beginning, 'Many Autumns, -many Springs.' I suggested a <i>Round-about</i> with four seats, and the -four seasons, as children, with Time for the shew-man."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_613" id="Page_613">[613]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_335"><a href="#sn_335">335</a>. "<span class="smcap">A thousand darling Imps.</span>" (stanza 19)</h4> - -<p>"Aeriel spirits," says Robert Burton, "are such as keep quarter most -part in the air, cause many tempests, thunder, and lightnings, tear -oaks, fire steeples, houses, strike men and beasts, make it rain -stones, ... wool, frogs, etc., counterfeit armies in the air, strange -noises, swords, etc."</p> - -<p>Nothing vexed Linnet Sara more than to be asked if there were any such -darling imps or spectres or ghosts or blackamoors in Thrae. All such to -her were nothing but idle fiddle-faddle. But Reginald Scot, who wrote -<i>The Discoverie of Witchcraft</i> (1584), had another kind of kitchen -company when he was young.</p> - -<p>" ... Our mothers maide," he says, of his childhood, "so terrified -us with ... bull beggers, spirits, witches, urchens, elves, hags, -fairies, satyrs, pans, faunes, sylens, kit with the cansticke, -tritons, centaurs, dwarfes, giants, imps, calcars, conjurors, nymphes, -changlings, Incubus, Robin goodfellowe, the spoorne, the mare, the man -in the oke, the hellwaine, the fierdrake, the puckle, Tom thombe, hob -gobblin, Tom tumbler, boneles, and such other bugs, that we were afraid -of our own shadowes: in so much as some never feare the divill, but in -a dark night; ..."</p> - -<p>There seems to be no mention here of the salamander—a creature at -least as rarely seen by mortal eyes as the puckle or firedrake.</p> - -<p>"When I was about five years old," says Benvenuto Cellini, "my father -happened to be in a basement-chamber of our house, where they had been -washing, and where a good fire of oak logs was still burning; he had a -viol in his hand and was playing and singing alone beside the fire. The -weather was very cold. Happening to look into the fire, he espied in -the middle of the most burning flames a little creature like a lizard, -which was sporting in the core of the intensest coals. Becoming aware -of what the thing was, he had my sister and me called, and pointing it -out to us children, gave me a great box on the ears, which caused me to -cry with all my might. Then he pacified me by saying, 'My dear little -boy, I am not striking you for anything that you have done, but only to -make you remember that the lizard you see in the fire is a salamander, -a creature which has never been seen before by any of whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_614" id="Page_614">[614]</a></span> we have -credible information.' So saying he gave me some pieces of money, and -kissed me."</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Bell and Whip and Horse's Tail</span>" (stanza 22)</h4> - -<p>—such in old days was the Witch's vile punishment if she escaped -drowning: to be whipped, tied to a horse's tail, and rung through the -crowded streets.</p> - -<p>"Agramie," I suppose, is agrimony, which, if worn by the wary, will -enable the wearer to detect witches. Their eyes too will betray them, -for <i>there</i> you will find no tiny image of yourself reflected as in the -eyes of the honest. And if you would be rid of their company, pluck a -sprig of scarlet pimpernel, and repeat this charm:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Herbe pimpernell, I have thee found</div> - <div>Growing upon Christ Jesus' ground:</div> - <div>The same guift the Lord Jesus gave unto thee,</div> - <div>When he shed his blood on the tree,</div> - <div>Arise up, pimpernell, and goe with me.</div> - <div class="i4">And God blesse me,</div> - <div>And all that shall wear <i>thee</i>. <span class="smcap">Amen</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>"Say this fifteen dayes together, twice a day, morning earlye fasting, -and in the evening full."</p> - -<p>Indeed, at last, whatever the peril, a quiet heart and heaven's -courage, are charm enough:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">I say that we are wound</div> - <div>With mercy round and round</div> - <div>As if with air: ...</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Gerald Manley Hopkins</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_336"><a href="#sn_336">336</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Water Kelpy</span>" (stanza 8)</h4> - -<p>is a fiend that haunts in rivers and desolate waters. It is of -horse-shape, and the sound of its neighings is a boding of death to the -traveller.</p> - -<p>"Thus did the evil creatures often press me hard, but, as was meet, I -served them well with my war-sword; they had no joyous fill by eating -me, wicked destroyers, sitting round their feast nigh the bottom of the -sea; but in the morning, wounded by the sword, slain by the dagger, -they lay up along the sea-strand, so that they could never more hinder -seafarers on their course in the deep channel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615">[615]</a></span></p> - -<p>Light came from the east, the bright beacon of the Lord; the waves were -stilled, and I could descry the sea-headlands, those wind-swept walls."</p> - -<p class="r1"><i>Beowulf</i>, translated by <span class="smcap">C. B. Tinker</span></p> - -<p>"'And what is the sea?' asked Will.</p> - -<p>'The sea!' cried the miller. 'Lord help us all, it is the greatest -thing God made! That is where all the water in the world runs down -into a great salt lake. There it lies, as flat as my hand and as -innocent-like as a child; but they do say when the wind blows it gets -up into water-mountains bigger than any of ours, and swallows down -great ships bigger than our mill, and makes such a roaring that you can -hear it miles away upon the land. There are great fish in it five times -bigger than a bull, and one old serpent as long as our river and as old -as all the world, with whiskers like a man, and a crown of silver on -her head.'"</p> - -<p class="smcap r1">Robert Louis Stevenson</p> - - -<h4 id="note_341"><a href="#sn_341">341</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Wandering Spectre.</span>"</h4> - -<p>" ... The usewall Method for a curious Person to get a transient Sight -of this otherwise invisible Crew of Subterraneans, ... is to put his -left Foot under the Wizard's right Foot, and the Seer's Hand is put on -the Inquirer's Head, who is to look over the Wizard's right Shoulder -... then will he see a Multitude of Wights, like furious hardie Men, -flocking to him haistily from all Quarters, as thick as Atoms in the -Air.... Thes thorow Fear strick him breathless and speechless."</p> - -<p>So says "Mr. Robert Kirk, Minister at Aberfoill," in his <i>Secret -Commonwealth</i> of 1691.</p> - -<p>Of these invisible wights the womenkind "are said to Spin very fine, -to Dy, to Tossue, and Embroyder, but whether only curious Cob-webs, -impalpable Rainbows ... I leave to conjecture."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_343"><a href="#sn_343">343</a>. "<span class="smcap">And Clootie's waur nor a Woman was.</span>" (stanza 19)</h4> - -<p>A strip or patch of wild weedy uncropped ground (like the Sluggard's -garden) that in England is called <i>No Man's Land</i>, the Scots country -folk call <i>Clootie's Croft</i> (or Clootie's little field). They hand -it over by name, as it were, to the Fiend,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_616" id="Page_616">[616]</a></span> hoping that he may rest -content with its harvest of nettle and bramble and burr, and not range -elsewhere. It is an old belief that if, like Christian, the wayfarer -meets Apollyon straddling across his path, he may have to withstand him -not only with sword and staff, but with his wits. Just so, too, in old -times, sovereign princes would test strangers with dark questions and -riddles. In this ballad the Fiend disguised as a knight comes wooing -at a Widow's door, in the next he is abroad on the high road. Jennifer -and the wee boy kept up their hearts, their wits about them, their eyes -open, and "had the last word"; which, says Mr. Sidgwick, is a mighty -powerful charm against evil spirits—as against Witches are the herbs -vervain, dill, basil, hyssop, periwinkle and rue. Iron, too; the cross, -and running water.</p> - -<p>Here is another such encounter from <i>The White Wallet</i>—packed with -poems new and old. You can almost hear the voices of the two speakers -standing together in the quiet and dust of the morning road:</p> - - -<h4><span class="smcap">Meet-on-the-road</span>.</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Now, pray, where are you going, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"To school, sir, to school, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"What have you in your basket, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"My dinner, sir, my dinner, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"What have you for your dinner, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Some pudding, sir, some pudding, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Oh, then I pray, give me a share," said Meet-on-the-Road.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"I've little enough for myself, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"What have you got that cloak on for?" said Meet-on-the-Road.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"To keep the wind and cold from me," said Child-as-It-Stood.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"I wish the wind would blow through you," said Meet-on-the-Road.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"Oh, what a wish! Oh, what a wish!" said Child-as-It-Stood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_617" id="Page_617">[617]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Pray what are those bells ringing for?" said Meet-on-the-Road.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"To ring bad spirits home again," said Child-as-It-Stood.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"Oh, then, I must be going, child!" said Meet-on-the-Road.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">"So fare you well, so fare you well," said Child-as-It-Stood.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And here, for titbits and <i>bonnes bouches</i>, are Seven Ancient Riddles -from <i>Popular Rhymes</i>—in case:</p> - - -<h5>i.</h5> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The fiddler and his wife,</div> - <div class="i1">The piper and his mother,</div> - <div>Ate three half-cakes, three whole cakes,</div> - <div class="i1">And three quarters of another.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h5>ii.</h5> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A house full, a yard full,</div> - <div>And ye can't catch a bowl full.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h5>iii.</h5> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I was going o'er London Bridge,</div> - <div class="i1">I heard something crack;</div> - <div>Not a man in all England</div> - <div class="i1">Can mend that!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h5>iv.</h5> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I had a little sister,</div> - <div class="i1">They called her Pretty Peep;</div> - <div>She wades in the waters,</div> - <div class="i1">Deep, deep, deep!</div> - <div>She climbs up the mountains,</div> - <div class="i1">High, high, high;</div> - <div>My poor little sister,</div> - <div class="i1">She has but one eye.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h5>v.</h5> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I was going o'er yon moor of moss,</div> - <div>I met a man on a gray horse;</div> - <div>He whipp'd and he wail'd,</div> - <div>I ask'd him what he ail'd;</div> - <div>He said he was going to his father's funeral,</div> - <div>Who died seven years before he was born!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_618" id="Page_618">[618]</a></span></p> - - -<h5>vi.</h5> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As I looked out o' my chamber window,</div> - <div class="i1">I heard something fall;</div> - <div>I sent my maid to pick it up,</div> - <div class="i1">But she couldn't pick it all.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h5>vii.</h5> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Black within, and red without,</div> - <div>Four corners round about.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4><span class="smcap">Answers.</span></h4> - -<p>i. 1¾ cakes each; since, if Mr. Piper marries, his wife will be Mr. -and Mrs. Fiddler's dear daughter-in-law. ii. Smoke; iii. Ice; iv. A -Star; v. The poor soul in the coffin was by trade a dyer; vi. Snuff -(!); vii. A Chimney (in Days of Yore).</p> - - -<h4 id="note_344"><a href="#sn_344">344</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Fause Knicht.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Such visitants, it would appear, have marvellous power even over faces -or shapes in stone:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's tied his steed to the kirk-stile,</div> - <div class="i1">Syne wrang-gaites round the kirk gaed he;</div> - <div>When the Mer-Man entered the kirk-door,</div> - <div class="i1">Away the sma' images turned their e'e....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>Wrang-gaites must mean widdershins, left to right, West to East, the -opposite to <i>deiseal</i> (deshal)—to the right, Sunwards.</p> - -<p>Here is another such visitor—one who considerately intrudes not all at -once but little by little, bone by bone:</p> - - -<h4><span class="smcap">The Strange Visitor.</span></h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">A wife was sitting at her reel ae night;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a pair o' braid braid soles, and sat down at the fireside;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a pair o' sma' legs, and sat down on the braid braid soles;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_619" id="Page_619">[619]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a pair o' muckle muckle knees, and sat down on the sma' sma' legs;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a pair o' sma' sma' thees, and sat down on the muckle muckle knees;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a pair o' muckle muckle hips, and sat down on the sma' sma' thees;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a sma' sma' waist, and sat down on the muckle muckle hips;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a pair o' braid braid shouthers, and sat down on the sma' sma' waist;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a pair o' sma' sma' arms, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a pair o' muckle muckle hands, and sat down on the sma' sma' arms;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a sma' sma' neck, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">In came a great big head, and sat down on the sma' sma' neck;</div> - <div class="i1 hangingindent">And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">"What way hae ye sic braid braid feet?" quo' the wife.</div> - <div>"Muckle ganging, muckle ganging."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic sma' sma' legs?"</div> - <div>"<i>Aih-h-h</i>!—late—and <i>wee-e-e</i> moul."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_620" id="Page_620">[620]</a></span></div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic muckle muckle knees?"</div> - <div>"Muckle praying, muckle praying."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic sma' sma' thees?"</div> - <div>"<i>Aih-h-h</i>!—late—and <i>wee-e-e</i> moul."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic big big hips?"</div> - <div>"Muckle sitting, muckle sitting."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' waist?"</div> - <div>"<i>Aih-h-h</i>!—late—and <i>wee-e-e</i> moul."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic braid braid shouthers?"</div> - <div>"Wi' carrying broom, wi' carrying broom."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic sma' sma' arms?"</div> - <div>"<i>Aih-h-h</i>!—late—and <i>wee-e-e</i> moul."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic muckle muckle hands?"</div> - <div>"Threshing wi' an iron flail, threshing wi' an iron flail."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' neck?"</div> - <div>"<i>Aih-h-h</i>!—late—and <i>wee-e-e</i> moul."</div> - <div>"What way hae ye sic a muckle muckle head?"</div> - <div>"Muckle wit, muckle wit."</div> - <div>"What do you come for?"</div> - <div>"For YOU!"</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_345"><a href="#sn_345">345</a>. "<span class="smcap">Christabel.</span>"</h4> - -<p>I have included only these few stanzas of this familiar magical poem -because a book is but one book, and to print everything as lovely or -almost as lovely would need many.</p> - -<p>In reading it, as Coleridge explained, all that is necessary to ensure -its lilt and cadence is to remember that every line, however few or -many its words or syllables, has four accents, and that these fall in -accord with the meaning of the lines as one reads them with clear eyes, -attentive ear, and understanding. In his tale of Genevieve there is yet -another false and lovely Fiend:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... But when I told the cruel scorn</div> - <div>That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,</div> - <div>And that he crossed the mountain-woods,</div> - <div class="i2">Nor rested day nor night;</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>That sometimes from the savage den,</div> - <div>And sometimes from the darksome shade,</div> - <div>And sometimes starting up at once</div> - <div class="i2">In green and sunny glade,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_621" id="Page_621">[621]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There came and looked him in the face</div> - <div>An angel beautiful and bright;</div> - <div>And that he knew it was a Fiend,</div> - <div class="i2">This miserable Knight——</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">A Toothless Mastiff Bitch.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Here is a description of one <i>with</i> teeth—a dog seldom seen now. It is -taken from a German book on husbandry, translated by Barnaby Goodge, -and is quoted in <i>Animal Lore</i>:</p> - -<p>"First the mastie that keepeth the house: for this purpose you must -provide you such a one, as hath a large and a mightie body, a great -and a shrill voyce, that both with his barking he may discover, and -with his sight dismay the theefe, yea, being not seene, with the -horror of his voice put him to flight; his stature must neither be -long nor short, but well set, his head great, his eyes sharpe, and -fiery, ... his countenance like a lion, his brest great and shaghayrd, -his shoulders broad, his legges bigge, his tayle short, his feet very -great; his disposition must neither be too gentle, nor too curst, that -he neither fawne upon a theefe, nor flee (fly) upon his friends; very -waking, no gadder abroad, not lavish of his mouth, barking without -cause. Neither maketh it any matter though he be not swift: for he is -but to fight at home, and to give warning of the enemie." And his name -is little Bingo!</p> - - -<h4 id="note_347"><a href="#sn_347">347</a>. "<span class="smcap">Once a fair and stately Palace.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The radiant palace of this poem is indeed far away—the other side of -dream and night. Its monstrous word, <i>Porphyrogene</i>, means a prince, a -child-Royal, one born in the chamber of some Eastern palace walled with -rare porphyry.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_350"><a href="#sn_350">350</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sweet Whispers are heard by the Traveller.</span>" (stanza 6)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>On a poet's lips I slept</div> - <div>Dreaming like a love-adept</div> - <div>In the sound his breathing kept;</div> - <div>Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses,</div> - <div>But feeds on the aërial kisses</div> - <div>Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_622" id="Page_622">[622]</a></span></div> - <div>He will watch from dawn to gloom</div> - <div>The lake-reflected sun illume</div> - <div>The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,</div> - <div>Nor heed nor see, what things they be;</div> - <div>But from these create he can</div> - <div>Forms more real than living man,</div> - <div>Nurslings of immortality!...</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_352"><a href="#sn_352">352</a>. "<span class="smcap">My a Dildin.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This, 353, 355 and 356 are four more Singing-Game Rhymes, worn down -into almost nonsensical jingle by multitudinous tongues in long long -usage. (See No. 41, page 36).</p> - -<p>And—since in my humble opinion it is not easy to get too much of this -kind of good thing—here is another:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bobby Shaft is gone to sea,</div> - <div>With silver buckles at his knee;</div> - <div>When he'll come home he'll marry me,</div> - <div class="i4">Pretty Bobby Shaft!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bobby Shaft is fat and fair,</div> - <div>Combing down his yellow hair;</div> - <div>He's my love for evermair,</div> - <div class="i4">Pretty Bobby Shaft!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_352a">352a. "<span class="smcap">We are come to court.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>King Edelbrode cam owre the sea,</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Fa la lilly</i>.</div> - <div>All for to marry a gay ladye,</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Fa la lilly</i>.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Her lilly hands, sae white and sma',</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Fa la lilly</i>.</div> - <div>Wi' gouden rings were buskit braw,</div> - <div class="i4"><i>Fa la lilly</i>....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And here is a Bride of Elizabeth's day whom I chanced on in that packed -and inexhaustible book, <i>Shakespeare's England</i>. When "buskit braw," -she must have been as lovely to see as a hawthorn in May or a wax -candle in a silver shrine:</p> - -<p>"The bride being attired in a gown of sheeps russet, and a kirtle of -fine worsted, her head attired with a billiment of gold, and her hair -as yellow as gold hanging down behind her, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_623" id="Page_623">[623]</a></span> was curiously combed -and pleated, according to the manner in those days: she was led to -church between two sweet boys, with bride-laces and rosemary tied about -their silken sleeves.... Then was there a fair bride-cup of silver and -gilt carried before her wherein was a goodly branch of rosemary, gilded -very fair, hung about with silken ribands of all colours: next was -there a noise of musicians, that played all the way before her: after -her came all the chiefest maidens of the country, some bearing great -bride-cakes, and some garlands of wheat, finely gilded, and so she -passed to the Church."</p> - -<p>As for the silken ribands they may have been of Drakes colour or Ladies -blush or Gozelinge colour or Marigold or Isabel or Peas porridge tawny -or Popingay blew or Lusty gallant, but they were certainly not Judas -colour, Devil in the hedge, or Dead Spaniard.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_355"><a href="#sn_355">355</a>. "<span class="smcap">And feed Her wi' new Milk and Bread.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Yellow-haired Laddie sat down on yon brae,</div> - <div>Cries—Milk the ewes, Lassie! let nane o' them gae!</div> - <div>And ay she milked, and ay she sang—</div> - <div>The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!</div> - <div>And ay she milked, and ay she sang—</div> - <div>The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!...</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Allan Ramsay</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_357"><a href="#sn_357">357</a>. <span class="smcap">Quoth John to Joan.</span></h4> - -<p>This old song, which was set to music in the reign of Henry VIII., -comes (like Dallyaunce of No. 35), out of a Morality Play, <i>Lusty -Juventus</i>, the author of which is said to be one "R. Wever," whose body -has now for many a century been slumbering on in its cocoon.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_358"><a href="#sn_358">358</a>. <span class="smcap">Milk-White Fingers, Cherry Nose.</span></h4> - -<p>This is the only poem I have ever seen in which the midmost feature of -a pretty face is compared to a cherry. And yet a frosty morning must -have given many a dainty nose that fair bright coral colour.</p> - -<p>So too, Bob Cherry, in these lines <i>To His Lady</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Black-heart were mine to love not thy</div> - <div>White-heart so sweet and tender;</div> - <div>Be kind, my dear, for—Summer by—</div> - <div>What fruits hath cold December?</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_624" id="Page_624">[624]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_359"><a href="#sn_359">359</a>. "<span class="smcap">Or the Bees their careful King.</span>"</h4> - -<p>In old times the "Governor" of a Bee Hive was sometimes referred to as -the King and sometimes as the Queen. The choice depended in part on -which kind of monarch was on the throne. There is an entrancing story -of the middle ages, told by Mr. Tickner Edwardes in his book on the -Honey Bee.</p> - -<p>"A certaine simple woman, on finding that her bees were storing little -honey for her and were perishing of "the murraine," stole one of the -holy wafers from the priest, and for miraculous remedy concealed it -in one of her hives. "Whereupon the Murraine ceased and the Honie -abounded. The Woman, therefore lifting up the hive at the due time to -take out the Honie, saw there (most strange to be seene) a Chappell -built by the Bees, with an altar to it, the wals adorned by marvellous -skill of architecture, with windowes conveniently set in their places: -also a doore and a steeple with bells. And the Host being laid upon -the altar, the Bees making a sweet noise, flew around it." Apart from -"the singing masons building roofs of gold," the gluttonous drones, -the sentries, wax-makers, bread-kneaders, nurses, etc., there are the -Queen's Ladies-in-waiting. "For difference from the rest they beare -for their crest a tuft or tossell, in some coloured yellow, in some -murrey, in manner of a plume; whereof some turne downward like an -Ostrich-feather, others stand upright like a Hern-top." But for truths -even stranger than fantasy regarding bees and their kind, go to Henri -Fabre.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_360"><a href="#sn_360">360</a>. "<span class="smcap">And here, and here.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As Flora slept and I lay waking,</div> - <div>I smiled to see a bird's mistaking,</div> - <div>For from a bough it down did skip</div> - <div>And for a cherry pecked her lip....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_362"><a href="#sn_362">362</a>. "<span class="smcap">My Heart is gladder than all these.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How many times do I love thee, dear?</div> - <div class="i1">Tell me how many thoughts there be</div> - <div class="i4">In the atmosphere</div> - <div class="i4">Of the new fall'n year,</div> - <div class="i1">Whose white and sable hours appear</div> - <div class="i2">The latest flake of eternity:</div> - <div class="i1">So times do I love thee, dear!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_625" id="Page_625">[625]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How many times do I love again?</div> - <div class="i1">Tell me how many beads there are</div> - <div class="i4">In a silver chain</div> - <div class="i4">Of evening rain</div> - <div class="i1">Unravelled from the tumbling main,</div> - <div class="i2">And threading the eye of a yellow star:</div> - <div class="i1">So many times do I love again!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Thomas Lovell Beddoes</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_363"><a href="#sn_363">363</a>.</h4> - -<p>The word screen (line 4) means, I think, "Hide and shelter those smiles -away that in their beauty seem to burn in the air": for all beauty -resembles radiance in its influence on the mind. And this recalls to -memory Southwell's poem, <i>The Burning Babe</i>, No. 256.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_364"><a href="#sn_364">364</a>. "<span class="smcap">A Sonnet of the Moon.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The closer one looks at and examines a fine <i>sonnet</i>—its way of -rhyming, its rise, poise, flight and fall, the ease and exactitude with -which what is said in it fills its mould or form—the more, I was going -to say, one should hesitate before attempting to write another. This -particular sonnet (like No. 361), is of the English or Shakespearean -kind, and is so lovely a thing that only a close attention would notice -the carelessness of its rhymes. No. 342 is an example of the form which -our sixteenth century poets borrowed from Italy. Comparison of them -shows that, as with the old Chinese ginger jars, so in poetry: not only -is the syrup delightful, but even the pot may be interesting.</p> - -<p>Coleridge wrote few sonnets, and this is his explanation of the length -one must be: "It is confined to fourteen lines, because as some -particular number is necessary, and that particular number must be a -small one, it may as well be fourteen as any other number. When no -reason can be adduced against a thing, Custom is a sufficient reason -for it."</p> - -<p>When I read this last remark for the first time it was as if my mind -had been startled into attention as one's body is when it collides -with a stranger in the street. There is a wide wisdom in it. How many -natural, human and delightful things there are in this world indeed for -which Custom is a sufficient reason: Children, for instance, daisies -in the grass,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_626" id="Page_626">[626]</a></span> skylarks in the clouds, dreams in sleep, rhymes, gay -clothes, friendship, laughter.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">The Pale Queen.</span>"</h4> - -<p>There is the apparition of a lovely face in the Moon—proud and -mute—to be discovered by careful eyes usually on the extreme right of -the disc, her own eyes gazing towards the left.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_368"><a href="#sn_368">368</a>. "<span class="smcap">It was in and about the Martinmas time.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This old Scottish song was a favourite of Oliver Goldsmith's in his -childhood. "The music of the finest singer," he said, "is dissonance -to what I felt when our old dairy-maid sung me into tears with <i>Johnny -Armstrong's Last Good-night</i>, or <i>The Cruelty of Barbara Allen</i>.</p> - -<p>As with the Scottish ballads so with this last poem—it is the brevity -and bareness with which the story is told and is not told that sets it -apart. Without one express word to prove it so, we know that Sir John -had always loved the proud Barbara even though he had spoken lightly of -her, and that she too had always loved him, though she refuses the word -that would have saved his life.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_371"><a href="#sn_371">371</a>. "<span class="smcap">I Never Had but One True Love, in Cold Grave She was -Lain.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Yet another tragic and sorrowful poem of which, to some fancies, there -may be too many in this book already. Well, here is the story of the -beautiful Princess Uillanita: She cared only for flowers white and -colourless as dew in the first light of day, or as laundered linen -blanching on a hedge of thorn. And she came one still evening, when she -was in search of what she could not find, to a valley wherein a forest -gloomed above a deep but placid river. Within the forest, refreshed by -the mists of the river, grew none but flowers blue and dark and purple, -and such was the young Princess's hatred of them that she covered her -eyes with her hands, fled on, and so lost her way.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the night and long after she had wept herself to -sleep, the wailing of a nocturnal bird pierced into her dreams, and she -woke to find one solitary star of the colourlessness of Vega shining -alone in radiance in the space of sky<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_627" id="Page_627">[627]</a></span> betwixt the branches above her -head. Its thin ray silvered down—spearlike in its straightness—and -of a beam easily sufficing to irradiate a tiny clustering flower -which stood scarcely visible in the moss at her hand's side, and was -drenching the air with its fragrance. It was a flower utterly strange -to her, whiter than hoarfrost, fairer than foam.</p> - -<p>The enravished Princess gazed spellbound. "Why," whispered she to -herself, in the quiet of the dark gigantic forest; "if I had not wept -at the flowers of this sombre forest, if I had not lost my way, if I -had not been moved in my sleep to awaken, I never should have seen this -crystal thing; that is lovelier than I deemed Paradise itself could -bring to bloom." And she kissed the thin-spun petals, and happily fell -again asleep.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_372"><a href="#sn_372">372</a>. "<span class="smcap">A Lament.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Only two stanzas out of six, and these, maybe, a little difficult in -the old Scots:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Depart, depart, depart!</div> - <div>Alas! I must depart</div> - <div>From her that has my heart</div> - <div class="i2">With heart full sore;</div> - <div>Against my will indeed</div> - <div>And can find no remede—</div> - <div>I wait the pains of death—</div> - <div class="i2">Can do no more....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Adieu mine own sweet thing,</div> - <div>My joy and comforting,</div> - <div>My mirth and solacing</div> - <div class="i2">Of earthly gloir:</div> - <div>Farewell, my lady bright,</div> - <div>And my remembrance right,</div> - <div>Farewell, and have good night—</div> - <div class="i2">I say no more.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_380"><a href="#sn_380">380</a>. <span class="smcap">To Helen.</span></h4> - -<p>Who "the wayworn wanderer" is, I am uncertain; but apart from its rare -music, how long a journey awaits the imagination in this poem, and how -closely inwoven is its thought. Yet it is said to have been written -when Poe was in his early 'teens.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_628" id="Page_628">[628]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_381"><a href="#sn_381">381</a>. "<span class="smcap">There is a Lady.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Mr. Nahum's picture for this poem was of a little winged boy at -evening, his quiver of arrows on his back, his bow the perch of a -nightingale, and himself lying fast asleep under a hawthorn bush in -full flower—a narrow green sun-dappled river near-by, rosy clouds and -birds in the air, and strange snow-peaked hills afar.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Till I die.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... Only our love hath no decay;</div> - <div>This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;</div> - <div>Running it never runs from us away,</div> - <div>But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">John Donne</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_383"><a href="#sn_383">383</a>. "<span class="smcap">It is not so.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Silly boy 'tis ful Moon yet, thy night as day shines clearely.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Had thy youth but wit to feare, thou couldst not love so dearely.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Shortly wilt thou mourne when all thy pleasures are bereavèd;</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Little knows he how to love that never was deceivèd....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">Yet be just and constant still! Love may beget a wonder,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Not unlike a Summer's frost, or Winter's fatall thunder.</div> - <div class="hangingindent">He that holds his Sweethart true, unto his day of dying,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Lives, of all that ever breathed, most worthy the envỳing.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Thomas Campion</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_385"><a href="#sn_385">385</a>.</h4> - -<p>In this poem, as in all Christina Rossetti's work, there is a rhythm -and poise, a serpentining of music, so delicate that on clumsy lips it -will vanish as rapidly as the bloom from a plum. Indeed, each stanza is -like a branch (with its twigs) of a wild damson-tree, its wavering line -broken and beautified with bud, flower and leaf. And certainly as fresh -an air, and as clear a light, stirs and dwells in the poem as on the -tree itself in April.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_387"><a href="#sn_387">387</a>.</h4> - -<p>This is from Part II., Act II., Scene i. of "Zapolya." Glycine sings -unseen in a cavern—her voice comforting her lover wandering forlorn by -night "in a savage wood."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_629" id="Page_629">[629]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_389"><a href="#sn_389">389</a>.</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>For I'll cut my green coat a foot above my knee,</div> - <div>And I'll clip my yellow locks an inch below mine ee.</div> - <div class="i6"><i>Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.</i></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I'll buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,</div> - <div>And I'll go seek him through the world that is so wide.</div> - <div class="i6"><i>Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_391"><a href="#sn_391">391</a>. "<span class="smcap">Chimborazo, Cotopaxi.</span>"</h4> - -<p>In medieval days it seems that a traveller here and there, happily -supposing the world to be a floating island of indiscoverable -dimensions, hung in the wilds of space, and not knowing that it was -merely an "oblate spheroid," would journey clean round it and so come -back, to his amazement, to the place from which he started. Here is -such an experience from Sir John Mandeville, in his own words: "It was -told that a certain worthy man departed some time from our Country for -to go search the World.... He passed India and the Isles beyond it, -where are more than 5000 Isles, and so long and for so many seasons he -went by Sea and Land, and so environed the World, that he came at last -to an Isle whereon he heard spoken his own language—a calling of oxen -in the Plough—such Words in fact as men were wont to speak to Beasts -in his own country. Whereof he greatly marvelled, knowing not how that -might be." For there—as if it were a ghost or spectre—<i>there</i> was -the chimney of his own house smoking up into the clear morning air! -And what did he do, maybe? He stared; he sighed; he grew pale; he -shuddered: and—he turned back!</p> - - -<h4 id="note_392"><a href="#sn_392">392</a>. "<span class="smcap">Hallo my fancy.</span>"</h4> - -<p>For the first sight of this poem I most gratefully thank my friend Mr. -Ivor Gurney, though no doubt it was in Mr. Nahum's Book somewhere, and -I was too indolent at the time to copy it out. The poem was written -by William Cleland while he was still at St. Andrews. All else I -know of him is that he was born about 1661, and fell at Dunkeld in -1689. There is nothing in English to my knowledge that resembles -it. <i>Erra Pater</i> (stanza 4) was the name given to a busy astrologer -and almanac-concocter, William Lilly, of the time. King Phalaris's -monstrous bull was of brass: he perished in it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_630" id="Page_630">[630]</a></span></p> - -<p>By "the tapers" (stanza 2) is meant, I fancy, those phosphor-like fires -that gather on the yard-arms of ships at sea when the air is electric -with tempest. Sir Humphrey Gilbert's sailors were fearful at sight of -this apparition, and of a monster, too, that appeared swimming in the -waves beside their frigate, the <i>Squirrel</i>, a little before she and her -riding lights disappeared for ever.</p> - -<p>" ... Men which all their life time had occupied the Sea, never saw -more outragious Seas. We had also upon our maine yard, an apparition of -a little fire by night, which seamen doe call Castor and Pollux. But we -had onely one, which they take an evill signe of more tempest.... The -same Monday night, about twelve of the clocke ... suddenly her lights -were out ... and withall our watch cryed, <i>the Generall was cast away</i>, -which was too true. For in that moment, the Frigat was devoured and -swallowed up of the Sea ..."</p> - -<p>As for Cupid (stanza 5), he is said to be the slyest archer that ever -shot arrow—and a dangerous child either to entertain (as the poem -proves that begins as follows):</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Cupid abroade was 'lated in the night,</div> - <div class="i1">His wings were wet with ranging in the raine;</div> - <div>Harbour he sought, to mee hee took his flight,</div> - <div class="i1">To dry his plumes I heard the boy complaine.</div> - <div class="i2">I opte the doore and graunted his desire,</div> - <div class="i2">I rose my selfe, and made the wagge a fire....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p class="p-left">or—as yet another poem shows—to take as a scholar:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I dreamt by me I saw fair Venus stand,</div> - <div>Holding young Cupid in her lovely hand,</div> - <div>And said, kind Shepherd, I a scholar bring</div> - <div>My little son, to learn of you to sing....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And last, the pelican (in stanza 7). She was supposed in old days to be -"the lovingest bird that is," since at need she would pierce her breast -with her bill to feed her young ones. The plaintive singing of the -dying swan I have never heard, except in Tennyson's words:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The plain was grassy, wild and bare,</div> - <div>Wide, wild, and open to the air,</div> - <div>Which had built up everywhere</div> - <div class="i1">An under-roof of doleful gray.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631">[631]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">With an inner voice the river ran,</div> - <div class="i1">Adown it floated a dying swan,</div> - <div class="i4">And loudly did lament.</div> - <div class="i2">It was the middle of the day.</div> - <div class="i1">Ever the weary wind went on,</div> - <div class="i4">And took the reed-tops as it went....</div> - <div class="i1">Some blue peaks in the distance rose,</div> - <div class="i1">And white against the cold-white sky,</div> - <div class="i1">Shone out their crowning snows.</div> - </div> - - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2">One willow over the river wept,</div> - <div class="i1">And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;</div> - <div class="i1">Above in the wind was the swallow,</div> - <div class="i2">Chasing itself at its own wild will,</div> - <div class="i2">And far thro' the marish green and still</div> - <div class="i2">The tangled water-courses slept,</div> - <div class="i1">Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hearke canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan,</div> - <div>And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough....</div> - <div class="i16"><i>Othello</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_393"><a href="#sn_393">393</a>. "<span class="smcap">Columbus's doom-burdened caravels.</span>" (line 13)</h4> - -<p>" ... The next day, Thursday, October 11, 1492, was destined to be for -ever memorable in the history of the world.... The people on the <i>Santa -Maria</i> saw some petrels and a green branch in the water; the <i>Pinta</i> -saw a reed and two small sticks carved with iron, and one or two other -pieces of reeds and grasses that had been grown on shore, as well as -a small board. Most wonderful of all, the people of the <i>Nina</i> saw 'a -little branch full of dog roses';.... The day drew to its close; and -after nightfall, according to their custom, the crews of the ships -repeated the <i>Salve Regina</i>. Afterwards the Admiral addressed the -people and sailors of his ship, 'very merry and pleasant,'.... The moon -was in its third quarter, and did not rise until eleven o'clock. The -first part of the night was dark, and there was only a faint starlight -into which the anxious eyes of the look-out men peered from the -forecastles of the three ships. At ten o'clock Columbus was walking on -the poop of his vessel, when he suddenly saw a light right ahead. The -light seemed to rise and fall as though it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_632" id="Page_632">[632]</a></span> were a candle or a lantern -held in some one's hand and waved up and down. The Admiral called Pedro -Gutierrez to him and asked him whether he saw anything; and he also -saw the light. Then he sent for Rodrigo Sanchez and asked him if he -saw the light; but he did not.... Dawn came at last, flooding the sky -with lemon and saffron and scarlet and orange, until at last the pure -gold of the sun glittered on the water. And when it rose it showed the -sea-weary mariners an island lying in the blue sea ahead of them: the -island of Guanahani; San Salvador....</p> - -<p class="r1"><i>Christopher Columbus</i>, <span class="smcap">Filson Young</span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_395"><a href="#sn_395">395</a>. "<span class="smcap">To Sea, to Sea.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... To the ocean now I fly,</div> - <div>And those happy climes that lie</div> - <div>Where day never shuts his eye.</div> - <div>Up in the broad fields of the sky;</div> - <div>There I suck the liquid air</div> - <div>All amidst the gardens fair</div> - <div>Of Hesperus, and his daughters three</div> - <div>That sing about the golden tree:</div> - <div>Along the crispèd shades and bowers</div> - <div>Revels the spruce and jocund Spring;</div> - <div>The Graces, and the rosy bosomed Hours,</div> - <div>Thither all their bounties bring;</div> - <div>There eternal Summer dwells,</div> - <div>And west winds, with musky wing,</div> - <div>About the cedared alleys fling</div> - <div>Nard and Cassia's balmy smells....</div> - <div class="i1">But now my task is smoothly done,</div> - <div>I can fly, or I can run,</div> - <div>Quickly to the green earth's end,</div> - <div>Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend;</div> - <div>And from thence can soar as soon</div> - <div>To the corners of the moon.</div> - <div class="i1">Mortals, that would follow me,</div> - <div>Love Virtue; she alone is free:</div> - <div>She can teach ye how to climb</div> - <div>Higher than the sphery chime;</div> - <div>Or if Virtue feeble were,</div> - <div>Heaven itself would stoop to her.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Milton</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_633" id="Page_633">[633]</a></span></p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Master.</i><span class="i2">Steersman, how stands the wind?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Steersman.</i><span class="ih">Full north-north-east.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Master.</i><span class="i2">What course?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Steersman.</i><span class="ih">Full south-south-west.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Master.</i><span class="i2">No worse, and blow so fair,</span></div> - <div class="i5">Then sink despair,</div> - <div class="i7">Come solace to the mind!</div> - <div class="i7">Ere night, we shall the haven find.</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">John Dowland</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Caved Tritons' azure Day</span>" (line 12)</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—Dark-fated Clarence in <i>King Richard III</i>. dreamt of that "azure day":</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i9">... As we paced along</div> - <div>Upon the giddy footing of the Hatches,</div> - <div>Me thought that Glouster stumbled, and in falling</div> - <div>Strooke me (that thought to stay him) over-board,</div> - <div>Into the tumbling billowes of the maine.</div> - <div>O Lord, methought what paine it was to drowne,</div> - <div>What dreadfull noise of water in mine eares,</div> - <div>What sightes of ugly death within mine eyes....</div> - <div>Methought I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes:</div> - <div>A thousand men that Fishes gnawed upon:</div> - <div>Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heapes of Pearle,</div> - <div>Inestimable Stones, unvalewed Jewels,</div> - <div>All scattered in the bottome of the Sea.</div> - <div>Some lay in dead-men's Sculles; and in the holes</div> - <div>Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,</div> - <div>(As 'twere in scorne of eyes) reflecting Gemmes,</div> - <div>That wooed the slimy bottome of the deepe,</div> - <div>And mocked the dead bones that lay scattred by....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_396"><a href="#sn_396">396</a>. "<span class="smcap">Jewels more rich than Ormus shows.</span>" (line 20)</h4> - -<p>Mr. Nahum's picture to this was of a man clothed in rags that must -once have been rich and pompous. He sits, in the picture, gnawing his -nails upon a heap of what appears to be precious stones and lumps of -gold. All around him stretch the sands of the seashore, and there is -a little harbour with a decayed quay, its river-mouth silted up with -ooze and flotsam, so that nothing but a row-boat could find entrance -there. An<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634">[634]</a></span> immense sun burns in the sky; and, though a thread of fresh -water flows nearby, the man among the jewels seems to be tormented with -thirst. For Ormus, or Hormuz, on its narrow island of wild-coloured -rocks, date-palms, parrots and many birds, was once the rich mart -and treasure-house between Persia and India—spices, pearls, ivory, -gold, precious stones, and, in particular, the diamond, being its -merchandise. In 1507 the Portuguese Conqueror Alfonso Albuquerque stole -it from its dark princes. In 1622 Shah Abbas the Great razed it to the -ground. To-day it is but a waste, inhabited by a few fishermen and -diggers, its only commodities—that once were gems—salt and sulphur; -while still in the height of its Summer blows Julot, Harmatan, Il -Sirocco, the Flame-Wind, so deadly in its breath that the troops of -an army of 1600 horsemen and 6000 foot, says Marco Polo, marching to -punish the city for neglecting to pay tribute to the King of Kîrman, -and camping overnight without its walls, were baked next noon as dry -as pumice, and not a voice among them to tell the tale, though their -bodily shape and colour seemed to appearance unchanged. To protect -themselves against this Julot, the citizens of Ormus would build huts -of sheltering osier-work over the water, and in the heat of the morning -would stand immersed in its coolness up to the chin.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Apples</span>" (line 23)</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—these are pineapples, the "price" of the next line meaning -excellence. "Ambergris" (line 28), is a rare and costly stuff which, as -its name tells, resembles grey amber. It has a wondrously sweet smell, -was once used in cooking, and is disgorged by the whale that supplies -the world with the comforting ointment of childhood called Spermaceti.</p> - -<p>In Shakespeare's day, Marvell's "remote Bermudas" were known as the -"Isle of Divels"—because of the nocturnal yellings, cries and yelpings -that were reported to haunt them. English sailors, wrecked and cast -away on Great Bermuda in 1709, however, brought home in their boats of -cedar-wood the news that this wild music was caused (at least in part) -by descendants of the hogs that had been left there by the long-gone -Spaniard, Juan Bermudez and his men! They told, too, that it was an -island fair and commodious, of a gentle climate, and a sweet-smelling -air; and Shakespeare almost certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_635" id="Page_635">[635]</a></span> had its enchantments in -mind when he wrote of Ariel, Caliban and Miranda. Was not Ariel in -Prospero's more solitary days called up at midnight "to fetch dewe from -the still-vext Bermoothes"?</p> - -<p>To the Puritan voyagers of Andrew Marvell's poem the Islands were as -welcome and angelic as the Hesperides. And no poet could better tell -of them than he. For in Marvell's verse dwells a curious happiness, -like sunshine on a pool of water-lilies. Yet he, too, like other -dreamers, was a man of affairs, and of endless industry and zeal. He -was thrice Member of Parliament for his birthplace, Kingston-on-Hull, -and, with Milton, was one of Oliver Cromwell's Latin Secretaries. John -Aubrey describes him as "of a middling stature, pretty strong sett, -roundish face, cherry-cheek't, hazell eie, brown hair. He was in his -conversation very modest, and of very few words. And though he loved -wine, he would never drink heartilie in company, and was wont to say, -that, <i>he would not play the good fellow in any man's company in whose -hands he would not trust his life</i>.... He lies interred under the pewes -in the south side of St. Giles' church-in-the-fields, under the window -wherein is painted in glass a red lyon...." And there George Chapman, -William Shirley, and Lord Herbert of Cherbury share his rest.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_397"><a href="#sn_397">397</a>. "<span class="smcap">That talkative bald-headed Seaman came.</span>" (line 23)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"... And now my name; which way shall lead to all</div> - <div>My miseries after, that their sounds may fall</div> - <div>Through your ears also, and shew (having fled</div> - <div>So much affliction) first, who rests his head</div> - <div>In your embraces, when, so far from home,</div> - <div>I knew not where t' obtain it resting room:</div> - <div class="i1">I am Ulysses Laertiades,</div> - <div>The fear of all the world...."</div> - <div class="i8"><i>The Odysseys</i>, <span class="smcap">George Chapman</span></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_398"><a href="#sn_398">398</a>.</h4> - -<p>The prose "argument" to the "Ancient Mariner," which is almost as rare -a piece of reading as the Rime itself, has been omitted. But here is -a fragment of it relating to the passage on pages 390-4: "...The -Wedding-Guest feareth that a Spirit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636">[636]</a></span> is talking to him; but the ancient -Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his -horrible penance. He despiseth the creatures of the calm, and envieth -that <i>they</i> should live, and so many lie dead. But the curse liveth -for him in the eye of the dead men. In his loneliness and fixedness -he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still -sojourn, yet still move onward; and every where the blue sky belongs to -them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their -own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are -certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.</p> - -<p>"By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great -calm—their beauty and their happiness. He blesseth them in his heart. -The spell begins to break. By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient -Mariner is refreshed with rain. He heareth sounds and seeth strange -sights and commotions in the sky and the element. The bodies of the -ship's crew are inspired and inspirited, and the ship moves on; but not -by the souls of the men, nor by dæmons of earth or middle air, but by -a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the -guardian saint...."</p> - -<p>"Daemons of earth or middle air" have been told of also by land -travellers—by Friar Odoric, for example, in the account of his journey -through Cathay during the years 1316-1330:</p> - -<p>"Another great and terrible thing I saw. For, as I went through a -certain valley which lieth by the River of Delights, I saw therein many -dead corpses lying. And I heard also therein sundry kinds of music, but -chiefly nakers, which were marvellously played upon. And so great was -the noise thereof that very great fear came upon me. Now, this valley -is seven or eight miles long; and if any unbeliever enter therein he -quitteth it never again, but perisheth incontinently. Yet I hesitated -not to go in that I might see once for all what the matter was. And -when I had gone in I saw there, as I have said, such numbers of corpses -as no one without seeing it could deem credible. And at one side of the -valley, in the very rock, I beheld as it were the face of a man very -great and terrible, so very terrible indeed that for my exceeding great -fear my spirit seemed to die in me. Wherefore I made the sign of the -cross, and began continually to repeat <span class="smcap">VERBUM CARO FACTUM</span>, -but I dared not at all to come nigh that face, but kept at seven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637">[637]</a></span> or -eight paces from it. And so I came at length to the other end of the -valley, and there I ascended a hill of sand and looked around me. But -nothing could I descry, only I still heard those nakers to play which -were played so marvellously. And when I got to the top of that hill I -found there a great quantity of silver heaped up as it had been fishes' -scales, and some of this I put into my bosom. But as I cared nought -for it, and was at the same time in fear lest it should be a snare to -hinder my escape, I cast it all down again to the ground. And so by -God's grace I came forth scathless. Then all the Saracens, when they -heard of this, showed me great worship, saying that I was a baptised -and holy man. But those who had perished in that valley they said -belonged to the devil."</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i3">As an Arab journeyeth</div> - <div class="i3">Through a sand of Ayaman,</div> - <div class="i3">Lean Thirst, lolling its cracked tongue,</div> - <div class="i3">Lagging by his side along;</div> - <div class="i3">And a rusty wingèd Death</div> - <div class="i3">Grating its low flight before,</div> - <div class="i3">Casting ribbèd shadows o'er</div> - <div class="i3">The blank desert, blank and tan:</div> - <div>He lifts by hap to'rd where the morning's roots are</div> - <div class="i6">His weary stare,—</div> - <div class="i4">Sees, although they plashless mutes are,</div> - <div class="i6">Set in a silver air</div> - <div class="i3">Fountains of gelid shoots are,</div> - <div class="i3">Making the daylight fairest fair;</div> - <div class="i3">Sees the palm and tamarind</div> - <div>Tangle the tresses of a phantom wind;—</div> - <div>A sight like innocence when one has sinned</div> - <div>A green and maiden freshness smiling there,</div> - <div class="i3">While with unblinking glare</div> - <div>The tawny-hided desert crouches watching her....</div> - <div class="i10"><i>The Mirage</i>, <span class="smcap">Francis Thompson</span></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Thou to me art such a spring</div> - <div class="i1">As the Arab seeks at eve,</div> - <div class="i1">Thirsty from the shining sands;</div> - <div class="i1">There to bathe his face and hands,</div> - <div class="i1">While the sun is taking leave,</div> - <div>And dewy sleep is a delicious thing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_638" id="Page_638">[638]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Thou to me art such a dream</div> - <div class="i1">As he dreams upon the grass,</div> - <div class="i1">While the bubbling coolness near</div> - <div class="i1">Makes sweet music in his ear;</div> - <div class="i1">And the stars that slowly pass</div> - <div>In solitary grandeur o'er him gleam.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Thou to me art such a dawn</div> - <div class="i1">As the dawn whose ruddy kiss</div> - <div class="i1">Wakes him to his darling steed;</div> - <div class="i1">And again the desert speed,</div> - <div class="i1">And again the desert bliss,</div> - <div>Lightens thro' his veins, and he is gone!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">George Meredith</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_399"><a href="#sn_399">399</a>. "<span class="smcap">He Told of Waves.</span>" (line 28)</h4> - -<p>So, too, does the Ship's Captain in yet such another ore-loaden poem -of the marvellous, "The Sale of St. Thomas," by Lascelles Abercrombie, -telling how the saint in terror of the unknown would turn back from his -mission, is rebuked by his Master, and sold by him for twenty pieces of -silver to the Captain of a slant-sailed vessel bound for the barbarous -Indies. Here is but a fragment of the poem:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"... <i>A Ship's Captain.</i><span class="i1">You are my man, my passenger?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Thomas.</i><span class="i6">I am.</span></div> - <div class="i3">I go to India with you.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Captain.</i><span class="i5">Well, I hope so.</span></div> - <div class="i3 hangingindent">There's threatening in the weather. Have you a mind</div> - <div class="i3">To hug your belly to the slanted deck,</div> - <div class="i3">Like a louse on a whip-top, when the boat</div> - <div class="i3">Spins on an axle in the hissing gales?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Thomas.</i><span class="i1">Fear not. 'Tis likely indeed that storms are now</span></div> - <div class="i3">Plotting against our voyage; ay, no doubt</div> - <div class="i3">The very bottom of the sea prepares</div> - <div class="i3">To stand up mountainous or reach a limb</div> - <div class="i3">Out of his night of water and huge shingles,</div> - <div class="i3 hangingindent">That he and the waves may break our keel. Fear not;</div> - <div class="i3">Like those who manage horses, I've a word</div> - <div class="i3">Will fasten up within their evil natures</div> - <div class="i3">The meanings of the winds and waves and reefs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_639" id="Page_639">[639]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Captain.</i><span class="i1">You have a talisman? I have one too;</span></div> - <div class="i3">I know not if the storms think much of it.</div> - <div class="i3">I may be shark's meat yet. And would your spell</div> - <div class="i3">Be daunting to a cuttle, think you now?</div> - <div class="i3">We had a bout with one on our way here;</div> - <div class="i3">It had green lidless eyes like lanterns, arms</div> - <div class="i3">As many as the branches of a tree,</div> - <div class="i3">But limber, and each one of them wise as a snake.</div> - <div class="i3">It laid hold of our bulwarks, and with three</div> - <div class="i3">Long knowing arms, slimy, and of a flesh</div> - <div class="i3">So tough they'ld fool a hatchet, searcht the ship,</div> - <div class="i3">And stole out of the midst of us all a man;</div> - <div class="i3">Yes, and he the proudest man upon the seas</div> - <div class="i3">For the rare powerful talisman he'd got.</div> - <div class="i3">And would yours have done better?</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Thomas.</i><span class="i6">I am one</span></div> - <div class="i3">Not easily frightened. I'm for India...."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_400"><a href="#sn_400">400</a>. "<span class="smcap">Parrots of Shrilly Green</span>"</h4> - -<p>—this gaudy and longevous bird, that seems to contain all the wisdom -of Solomon and more than the craft of Cleopatra in his eye, perched -first upon England many centuries ago. Skelton speaks of him:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>My name is parrot, a bird of Paradise ...</div> - <div>With my becke bent, my little wanton eye,</div> - <div>My fethers fresh, as is the emrawde grene,</div> - <div>About my neck a circulet, lyke the ryche rubye,</div> - <div>My little legges, my fete both nete and cleane....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And so, too, John Maplet, a "naturalist" who in 1567 wrote <i>A Greene -Forest</i>:</p> - -<p>"The Parret hath all hir whole bodie greene, saving that onely about -hir necke she hath a Coller or Chaine naturally wrought like to Sinople -or Vermelon. Indie hath of this kinde such as will counterfaite redily -a mans speach: what wordes they heare, those commonly they pronounce. -There have bene found of these that have saluted Emperours...."</p> - -<p>But which Emperors, and when and to what end he does not relate. -A parrot of price indeed would be she that had held converse with -"Ozymandias, king of kings."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_640" id="Page_640">[640]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_402"><a href="#sn_402">402</a>. "<span class="smcap">The March of Time.</span>" (line 2)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Say, is there aught that can convey</div> - <div>An image of its transient stay?</div> - <div>'Tis an hand's breadth; 'tis a tale;</div> - <div>'Tis a vessel under sail:</div> - <div>'Tis a courser's straining steed;</div> - <div>'Tis a shuttle in its speed;</div> - <div>'Tis an eagle in its way,</div> - <div>Darting down upon its prey;</div> - <div>'Tis an arrow in its flight,</div> - <div>Mocking the pursuing sight;</div> - <div>'Tis a vapour in the air;</div> - <div>'Tis a whirlwind rushing there;</div> - <div>'Tis a short-lived fading flower;</div> - <div>'Tis a rainbow on a shower;</div> - <div>'Tis a momentary ray</div> - <div>Smiling in a winter's day;</div> - <div>'Tis a torrent's rapid stream;</div> - <div>'Tis a shadow; 'tis a dream;</div> - <div>'Tis the closing watch of night,</div> - <div>Dying at approaching light;</div> - <div>'Tis a landscape vainly gay,</div> - <div>Painted upon crumbling clay;</div> - <div>'Tis a lamp that wastes its fires,</div> - <div>'Tis a smoke that quick expires;</div> - <div>'Tis a bubble,'tis a sigh:</div> - <div>Be prepared, O Man! to die.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>They are like strings of precious stones, rosaries, these Tudor -laments, one image following another, and however sad in colour, all -making beauty:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>As withereth the primrose by the river,</div> - <div>As fadeth summer's sun from gliding fountains,</div> - <div>As vanisheth the light-blown bubble ever,</div> - <div>As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains:</div> - <div>So melts, so vanisheth, so fades, so withers,</div> - <div>The rose, the shine, the bubble, and the snow,</div> - <div>Of praise, pomp, glory, joy, which short life gathers,</div> - <div>Fair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle joy.</div> - <div>The withered primrose by the mourning river,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_641" id="Page_641">[641]</a></span></div> - <div>The faded summer's sun from weeping fountains,</div> - <div>The light-blown bubble vanishèd for ever,</div> - <div>The molten snow upon the naked mountains,</div> - <div>Are emblems that the treasures we uplay,</div> - <div>Soon wither, vanish, fade, and melt away....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_403"><a href="#sn_403">403</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Wild Hyaena.</span>" (line 11)</h4> - -<p>In old times it was believed that if a hungry hyaena or jaccatray—who -cannot wry his neck "because his backbone stretches itself out to the -head"—dreams, he dreams so vividly that he calls into his sleeping -brain a vision of the beasts he covets for prey. And this vision is so -lifelike that he howls out of his sleep in mockery of the beasts—and -thus decoys them to his den! He is a nocturnal scavenger, haunting -graveyards, and "when" says Lyly, he "speaketh lyke a man," he -"deviseth most mischief."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_404"><a href="#sn_404">404</a>. "<span class="smcap">In Xanadu Did Kubla Khan.</span>"</h4> - -<p>"Now, this lord (the Great Caan)," says Friar Odoric in his <i>Cathay</i>, -"passeth the summer at a certain place which is called SANDU, situated -towards the north, and the coolest habitation in the world. But in the -winter season he abideth in Cambalech. And when he will ride from the -one place to the other this is the order thereof. He hath four armies -of horsemen, one of which goeth a day's march in front of him, one at -each side, and one a day's march in rear, so that he goeth always as -it were, in the middle of a cross. And marching thus, each army hath -its route laid down for it day by day, and findeth at its halts all -necessary provender. But his own immediate company hath its order of -march thus. The king travelleth in a two-wheeled carriage, in which is -formed a very goodly chamber, all of lign-aloes and gold, and covered -over with great and fine skins, and set with many precious stones. And -the carriage is drawn by four elephants, well broken in and harnessed, -and also by four splendid horses, richly caparisoned. And alongside -go four barons, who are called CUTHE, keeping watch and ward over the -chariot that no hurt come to the king. Moreover, he carrieth with him -in his chariot twelve gerfalcons; so that even as he sits therein upon -his chair of state or other seat, if he sees any birds pass he lets -fly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_642" id="Page_642">[642]</a></span> his hawks at them. And none may dare to approach within a stone's -throw of the carriage, unless those whose duty brings them there. And -thus it is that the king travelleth."</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">A Sunless Sea.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Our English eyes, loving light, weary a little of the short cold days -in our country, when the sun makes "winter arches." Sadder still would -be our state in the regions told of by Marco Polo in the following -passage:</p> - -<p>"Beyond the most distant part of the territory of the Tartars, ... -there is another region [thick set with dark impenetrable woods] which -extends to the utmost bounds of the north, and is called the Region -of Darkness, because during most part of the winter months the sun -is invisible, and the atmosphere is obscured to the same degree as -that in which we find it just about the dawn of day, when we may be -said to see and not to see. The men of this country are well made and -tall, but of a very pallid complexion. They are not united under the -government of a king or prince, and they live without any established -laws or usages, in the manner of the brute creation. Their intellects -also are dull, and they have an air of stupidity. The Tartars often -proceed on plundering expeditions against these people, to rob them of -their cattle and goods. For this purpose they avail themselves of those -months in which the darkness prevails, in order that their approach may -be unobserved; but, being unable to ascertain the direction in which -they should return homeward with their booty, they provide against the -chance of going astray by riding mares that have young foals at the -time, which latter they suffer to accompany the dams as far as the -confines of their own territory, but leave them, under proper care, at -the commencement of the gloomy region. When their works of darkness -have been accomplished, and they are desirous of revisiting the region -of light, they lay the bridles on the necks of their mares, and suffer -them freely to take their own course. Guided by maternal instinct, they -make their way directly to the spot where they had quitted their foals; -and by these means the riders are enabled to regain in safety the -places of their residence."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_643" id="Page_643">[643]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_406"><a href="#sn_406">406</a>. "<span class="smcap">One held a Shell unto his Shell-like Ear.</span>" (line 6)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="ilefth">... Gather a shell from the strown beach</div> - <div class="i1">And listen at its lips: they sigh</div> - <div class="i1">The same desire and mystery,</div> - <div>The echo of the whole sea's speech.</div> - <div class="i1">And all mankind is thus at heart</div> - <div class="i1">Not anything but what thou art:</div> - <div>And Earth, Sea, Man, are all in each.</div> - <div class="i8 smcap">Dante Gabriel Rossetti</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_407"><a href="#sn_407">407</a>. "<span class="smcap">Like Solemn Apparitions Lulled Sublime To Everlasting -Rest.</span>" (line 11)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">... In the caves of the deep—lost Youth! lost Youth!—</div> - <div>O'er and o'er, fleeting billows! fleeting billows!—</div> - <div>Rung to his restless everlasting sleep</div> - <div>By the heavy death-bells of the deep,</div> - <div>Under the slimy-drooping sea-green willows,</div> - <div class="i6">Poor Youth! lost Youth!</div> - <div class="i3">Laying his dolorous head, forsooth,</div> - <div class="i6">On Carian reefs uncouth—</div> - <div class="i9">Poor Youth!</div> - <div>On the wild sand's ever-shifting pillows!...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>O could my Spirit wing</div> - <div>Hills over, where salt Ocean hath his fresh headspring</div> - <div class="i3">And snowy curls bedeck the Blue-haired King,</div> - <div class="i3">Up where sweet oral birds articulate sing</div> - <div class="i6">Within the desert ring—</div> - <div>Their mighty shadows o'er broad Earth the Lunar</div> - <div class="i3">Mountains fling,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Where the Sun's chariot bathes in Ocean's fresh headspring—</div> - <div class="i6">O could my Spirit wing!...</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">George Darley</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Full fathom five thy Father lies,</div> - <div>Of his bones are Corrall made:</div> - <div>Those are Pearles that were his eies,</div> - <div>Nothing of him that doth fade,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_644" id="Page_644">[644]</a></span></div> - <div class="i2">But doth suffer a Sea-change</div> - <div class="i2">Into something rich, and strange:</div> - <div class="i2">Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell—</div> - <div class="i10"><i>Ding dong</i>.</div> - <div>Harke now I heare them, <i>ding-dong bell</i>.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">William Shakespeare</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_411"><a href="#sn_411">411</a>. "<span class="smcap">The Golden Vanity.</span>"</h4> - -<p>This is a patchwork of stanzas from three versions of the old ballad. -In one version the "Golden Vanity" is said to be the " Sweet Trinity," -and to have been built by Sir Walter Raleigh in the Netherlands. -According to yet another, the Cabin-boy, after threatening to sink the -"Goulden Vanitie" as he had "sunk the French gallee," is taken on board -and the Captain and merchant adventurers proved "far better than their -word." But if stanza 12 is any witness, this seems unlikely. Can one -not actually <i>see</i> the cold faces mocking down upon the water?</p> - - -<h4 id="note_412"><a href="#sn_412">412</a>.</h4> - -<p>To an eye and ear new to them, these old Scottish ballads may seem a -little difficult and forbidding. But read on, and their enchantment has -no match—the very strangeness of the words, the rare music, the colour -and light and clearness and vehemence, and, besides these, a wildness -and ancientness like that of an old folk-tune which seems to carry with -its burden as many lost memories as an old churchyard has gravestones. -The stories they tell are world wide. How they came into that world -(for of some of them there are as many as twenty to thirty different -versions), how they have fared in their long journey, and even when and -by whom they were made, are still questions on which even scholars are -not yet agreed.</p> - -<p>"Kevels" in line 5 of "Brown Robyn," means <i>lots</i>, and recalls a far -older story:</p> - -<p>"Now the word of the Lord came unto Jonah the son of Amittai, saying, -Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for their -wickedness is come up before me. But Jonah rose up to flee unto -Tarshish from the presence of the Lord, and went down to Joppa; and he -found a ship going to Tarshish, so he paid the fare thereof, and went -down into it, to go with them unto Tarshish from the presence of the -Lord.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_645" id="Page_645">[645]</a></span> But the Lord sent out a great wind into the sea, and there was a -mighty tempest in the sea, so that the ship was like to be broken. Then -the mariners were afraid, and cried every man unto his god, and cast -forth the wares that were in the ship into the sea, to lighten it of -them. But Jonah was gone down into the sides of the ship; and he lay, -and was fast asleep.... And they said every one to his fellow, Come, -and let us cast lots, that we may know for whose cause this evil is -upon us. So they cast lots, and the lot fell upon Jonah.... Then said -they unto him, What shall we do unto thee, that the sea may be calm -unto us? for the sea wrought, and was tempestuous. And he said unto -them, Take me up, and cast me forth into the sea; so shall the sea be -calm upon you: for I know that for my sake this great tempest is upon -you.... So they took up Jonah, and cast him forth into the sea; and the -sea ceased from her raging."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_415"><a href="#sn_415">415</a>. "<span class="smcap">A Seal My Father Was.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Notes of music for the enticement of seals, with other beautiful old -Gaelic airs and poems and tales, will be found in Journals 23/5 of The -Folk-Song Society, collected by Mr. Martin Freeman.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_418"><a href="#sn_418">418</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sir Patrick Spence.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The longer version of the ballad into which the genius of Sir Walter -Scott wove a few new stanzas is the better known. But this, I think, is -the best. Indeed, the secret art of this naked and lovely poetry seems -nowadays to be lost: its marvel is how much it tells by means of the -little it says.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Late, Late Yestreen.</span>" (stanza 7)</h4> - -<p>With money in his pocket and bewaring of glass, the Man of -Superstitions bows low and seven times to the new moon. If he sees a -dim cindrous light filling in the circle of which this crescent is the -edge, he "looks out for squalls"—the new moon has "the auld moone in -hir arme." That light is the earth-shine. The sun illumines the earth; -the earth like a looking-glass reflects his radiance upon the moon; -and she thus melancholily returns it; whereas the silver blaze on her -eastern edge is light direct: eyes looking upward thence into her black -skies are lit with her prodigious mornings.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_646" id="Page_646">[646]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_419"><a href="#sn_419">419</a>. "<span class="smcap">Allison Gross.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Here I have changed only two words of the original.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_420"><a href="#sn_420">420</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sir Hugh.</span>"</h4> - -<p>If this ballad tells of a fact, then the young Sir Hugh was beguiled -out of his life by the dark beautiful Jewess in the year 1255. The -story comes from a monastery, and it is historically certain that the -wealthiest Jews of Lincoln were in this year crucified on this charge. -True or false, what a clear, pellucid picture the ballad builds up in -the imagination—the ancient town; the boys at their game; the narrow, -gabled, cobbled streets; the evening gold on roof and wall; night; -lamentation; and the clanging of the bells.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_421"><a href="#sn_421">421</a>. "<span class="smcap">Edward.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The spelling of this ballad usually begins "Why dois your brand sae -dripp wie bluid," and so on. This spelling Professor Child thought -"affectedly antique." But since, as he says, mere antiquated "spelling -will not make an old ballad, so it will not <i>un</i>make one." And "Edward" -in any guise is "one of the noblest" of the popular ballads. Here it -is, then, in our own spelling for proof.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_422"><a href="#sn_422">422</a>. "<span class="smcap">I will sing.</span>"</h4> - -<p>The king in the third line is James the Sixth of Scotland and the First -of England—the king, according to the old waggery, "who never said a -foolish thing and never did a wise one." But see Green. The "wanton -laird of young Logie" is John Wemyss who plotted against him with the -Earl of Bothwell in 1592. His bold, crafty and merry young wife, May -Margaret, says Mr. Sidgwick, had one of these four delectable maiden -names—Vinstar, Weiksterne, Twynstoun, or Twinslace. It is dubious -which.</p> - -<p>All ladies in those old days carried knives at their girdles. The one -in stanza 8 was clearly a wedding gift. And to judge from the ballads, -doughty uses they sometimes put them to.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_423"><a href="#sn_423">423</a>. "<span class="smcap">Fair Annie.</span>"</h4> - -<p>In the margins of Mr. Nahum's copy of this ballad, two exquisite -damosels were painted in green, blue and amethyst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_647" id="Page_647">[647]</a></span> on gold (as in a -monk's work), and between their fingers hung a linen napkin seemingly -broidered with pearls and in the midst of it a sleeping dove. Whatever -he may have meant by this, I confess that at first reading I fell -in love with both these ladies. My feelings for the "noble knight" -who ransomed fair Annie, then wearied of her, were different. It -was strange to find a noble knight so hard a gentleman, not so much -because he wearied of her (since to weary of one so true, intelligent -and tender was even more of a punishment than a misfortune) but most -particularly, with regard to his craving for "gowd and gear." He -reminds me of a similar piece of humanity described in three short -stanzas which were found by Mr. Macmath written on the fly-leaf of a -little volume printed at Edinburgh about 1670, and which <i>I</i> found in -Child's Ballads:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"He steps full statly on the street,</div> - <div class="i1">He hads the charters of him sell,</div> - <div>In to his cloathing he is complete,</div> - <div class="i1">In Craford's mure he bears the bell....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"I wish I had died my own fair death,</div> - <div class="i1">In tender age, when I was young;</div> - <div>I would never [then] have broke my heart</div> - <div class="i1">For the love of any churl's son.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Wo be to my parents all,</div> - <div class="i1">That lives so farr beyond the sea!</div> - <div>I might have lived a noble life,</div> - <div class="i1">And wedded in my own countrée."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_425"><a href="#sn_425">425</a>. "<span class="smcap">But think na' ye my Heart was sair?</span>" (line 21)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Down in yon garden sweet and gay</div> - <div class="i1">Where bonnie grows the lily,</div> - <div>I heard a fair maid sighing say,</div> - <div class="i1">"My wish be wi' sweet Willie!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Willie's rare, and Willie's fair,</div> - <div class="i1">And Willie's wondrous bonny;</div> - <div>And Willie hecht to marry me</div> - <div class="i1">Gin e'er he married ony.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_648" id="Page_648">[648]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O gentle wind, that bloweth south</div> - <div class="i1">From where my Love repaireth,</div> - <div>Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth</div> - <div class="i1">And tell me how he fareth!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O tell sweet Willie to come doun</div> - <div class="i1">And hear the mavis singing,</div> - <div>And see the birds on ilka bush</div> - <div class="i1">And leaves around them hinging.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"The lav'rock there, wi' her white breast</div> - <div class="i1">And gentle throat sae narrow;</div> - <div>There's sport eneuch for gentlemen</div> - <div class="i1">On Leader haughs and Yarrow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O Leader haughs are wide and braid</div> - <div class="i1">And Yarrow haughs are bonny;</div> - <div>There Willie hecht to marry me</div> - <div class="i1">If e'er he married ony.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"But Willie's gone, whom I thought on,</div> - <div class="i1">And does not hear the weeping</div> - <div>Draws many a tear frae's true love's e'e,</div> - <div class="i1">When other maids are sleeping.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid,</div> - <div class="i1">The night I'll mak' it narrow,</div> - <div>For a' the lee-lang winter night</div> - <div class="i1">I lie twined o' my marrow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"O came ye by yon water-side?</div> - <div class="i1">Pu'd you the rose or lily?</div> - <div>Or came you by yon meadow green,</div> - <div class="i1">Or saw you my sweet Willie?"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>She sought him up, she sought him down,</div> - <div class="i1">She sought him braid and narrow;</div> - <div>Syne, in the cleaving of a crag,</div> - <div class="i1">She found him drowned in Yarrow!</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><i>Hecht</i> (line 6) means vowed; <i>haughs</i> are water-meadows; and to be -twined o' one's marrow, is to be separated from one's loved one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_649" id="Page_649">[649]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_427"><a href="#sn_427">427</a>. <span class="smcap">The Twa Sisters.</span></h4> - -<p>Here is another ballad—"The Water o Wearie's Well,"—of a similar -pattern. But in this the drowner of the King's daughters himself finds -a "watery grave":</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There came a bird out o a bush,</div> - <div class="i1">On water for to dine,</div> - <div>An sighing sair, says the king's daughter,</div> - <div class="i1">"O wae's this heart o mine!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's taen a harp into his hand,</div> - <div class="i1">He's harped them all asleep,</div> - <div>Except it was the king's daughter,</div> - <div class="i1">Who one wink couldna get.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,</div> - <div class="i1">Taen 'er on behind himsell,</div> - <div>Then baith rede down to that water</div> - <div class="i1">That they ca Wearie's Well.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,</div> - <div class="i1">No harm shall thee befall;</div> - <div>Oft times I've watered my steed</div> - <div class="i1">Wi the water o Wearie's Well."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The first step that she steppèd in,</div> - <div class="i1">She stepped to the knee;</div> - <div>And sighend says this lady fair,</div> - <div class="i1">"This water's nae for me."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,</div> - <div class="i1">No harm shall thee befall;</div> - <div>Oft times I've watered my steed</div> - <div class="i1">Wi the water o Wearie's Well."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The next step that she stepped in,</div> - <div class="i1">She stepped to the middle;</div> - <div>"O," sighend says this lady fair,</div> - <div class="i1">"I've wat my gowden girdle."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,</div> - <div class="i1">No harm shall thee befall;</div> - <div>Oft times have I watered my steed</div> - <div class="i1">Wi the water o Wearie's Well."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_650" id="Page_650">[650]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The next step that she steppèd in,</div> - <div class="i1">She stepped to the chin;</div> - <div>"O," sighend says this lady fair,</div> - <div class="i1">"They sud gar twa loves twin!"</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Seven king's daughters I've drownd there,</div> - <div class="i1">In the water o Wearie's Well,</div> - <div>And I'll make you the eight o them,</div> - <div class="i1">And ring the common bell."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Since I am standing here," she says,</div> - <div class="i1">"This dowie death to die,</div> - <div>One kiss o your comely mouth</div> - <div class="i1">I'm sure wad comfort me."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>He louted him oer his saddle bow,</div> - <div class="i1">To kiss her cheek and chin;</div> - <div>She's taen him in her arms twa,</div> - <div class="i1">And thrown him headlong in.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Since seven king's daughters ye've drowned there,</div> - <div class="i1">In the water o Wearie's Well,</div> - <div>I'll make you bridegroom to them a',</div> - <div class="i1">An ring the bell mysell."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And aye she warsled, and aye she swam,</div> - <div class="i1">And she swam to dry lan;</div> - <div>She thankèd God most cheerfully</div> - <div class="i1">The dangers she oercame.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_428"><a href="#sn_428">428</a>. "<span class="smcap">Sweet William and May Margaret.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Hermione.</i><span class="ih">Come Sir, now I am for you againe:</span></div> - <div class="i5">Pray you sit by us, and tell's a Tale.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mamillius</i> (her son).<span class="ih">Merry, or sad, shal't bee?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Hermione.</i><span class="ih">As merry as you will.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mamillius.</i><span class="ih">A sad Tale's best for Winter:</span></div> - <div class="i5">I have one of Sprights, and Goblins.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Hermione.</i><span class="ih">Let's have that, good Sir.</span></div> - <div class="i5"></div> - <div class="i5 hangingindent">Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best</div> - <div class="i5 hangingindent">To fright me with your Sprights: you're powrefull at it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_651" id="Page_651">[651]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mamillius.</i><span class="ih">There was a man....</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Hermione.</i><span class="ih">Nay, come sit downe: then on.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Mamillius.</i><span class="ih">Dwelt by a Churchyard:</span></div> - <div class="i5">I will tell it softly,</div> - <div class="i5">Yond Crickets shall not heare it.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Hermione.</i><span class="ih">Come on then, and giv't me in mine eare....</span></div> - <div class="i14"><i>The Winter's Tale</i></div> - </div> - - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_429"><a href="#sn_429">429</a>. "<span class="smcap">That birk Grew fair eneugh.</span>" (stanza 6)</h4> - -<p>The strangest feature of these ballads is that the stories they tell, -the customs, beliefs, lore they refer to, may be found scattered up and -down all over the world. In Russia, for one small instance, the birk or -birch tree is honoured in this fashion: A little before Whitsuntide, -says Sir James Fraser in <i>The Golden Bough</i>, the young women, with -dancing and feasting, cut down a living birch-tree, deck it with bright -clothes or hang it with ribbons; then set it up as an honoured guest in -one of the village houses. On Whit Sunday itself they fling it, finery -and all, into a stream for a charm.</p> - -<p>And now for England: "Thirty years ago," says Mrs. Wright, "it was -still customary in some west-Midland districts to decorate village -churches on Whit Sunday with sprigs of birch stuck in holes bored in -the tops of the pews. I can remember this being done by an old village -clerk in Herefordshire, but when he was gathered to his fathers in the -same profession, the custom died with him." How happy must he have been -then—as happy as for that one evening was the Wife of Usher's Well -herself—to lift his eyes upon a silver birch brushing with its green -tresses the very gates of Paradise!</p> - - -<h4 id="note_433"><a href="#sn_433">433</a>. "<span class="smcap">A spangle here.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Dew sate on Julia's haire,</div> - <div class="i1">And spangled too,</div> - <div>Like leaves that laden are</div> - <div class="i1">With trembling dew:</div> - <div>Or glittered to my sight,</div> - <div class="i1">As when the Beames</div> - <div>Have their reflected light,</div> - <div class="i1">Daunc't by the Streames.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Robert Herrick</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_652" id="Page_652">[652]</a></span></p> - -<p>If the daisies are not to shut their eyes until Julia shut hers, should -they not most assuredly wait also until "dear love Isabella," shut -<i>hers</i>? She was the bosom friend and aunt of Marjorie Fleming, Sir -Walter Scott's little friend, who was born in 1803, and who, having -written her few tim-tam-tot little rhymes, died in 1811. And here is -Isabel:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Here lies sweet Isabell in bed,</div> - <div>With a night-cap on her head;</div> - <div>Her skin is soft, her face is fair,</div> - <div>And she has very pretty hair;</div> - <div>She and I in bed lies nice,</div> - <div>And undisturbed by rats or mice;</div> - <div>She is disgusted with Mr. Worgan,</div> - <div>Though he plays upon the organ.</div> - <div>Her nails are neat, her teeth are white,</div> - <div>Her eyes are very, very bright;</div> - <div>In a conspicuous town she lives,</div> - <div>And to the poor her money gives;</div> - <div>Here ends sweet Isabella's story,</div> - <div>And may it be much to her glory.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_434"><a href="#sn_434">434</a>.</h4> - -<p>Bunyan's "Comparison" for this poem runs thus:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i1">Our Gospel has had here a Summers day;</div> - <div>But in its Sun-shine we, like Fools, did play,</div> - <div>Or else fall out, and with each other wrangle,</div> - <div>And did instead of work not much but jangle.</div> - <div class="i1">And if our Sun seems angry, hides his face,</div> - <div>Shall it go down, shall Night possess this place?</div> - <div>Let not the voice of night-Birds us afflict,</div> - <div>And of our mis-spent Summer us convict.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_437"><a href="#sn_437">437</a>.</h4> - -<p>From the "Songs of Innocence"; and this is from the "Songs of -Experience":</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>When the voices of children are heard on the green</div> - <div>And whisp'rings are in the dale.</div> - <div>The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,</div> - <div>My face turns green and pale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_653" id="Page_653">[653]</a></span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,</div> - <div>And the dews of night arise;</div> - <div>Your spring and your day are wasted in play,</div> - <div>And your winter and night in disguise.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>For to grow old and look back on one's childhood, though in much it -is a happy thing, may be also a thing full of dread and regret. The -old poets never wearied of bidding youth gather its roses, seize its -fleeting moments. But not all roses are fresh and fragrant in the -keeping, and "lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_440"><a href="#sn_440">440</a>. "<span class="smcap">Afterwards.</span>"</h4> - -<p>Every fine poem says much in little. It packs into the fewest possible -words—by means of their sound, their sense, and their companionship—a -wide or rare experience. So, in particular, with such a poem as this. -It tells of a man thinking of the day when he shall have bidden goodbye -to a world whose every live and lovely thing—Spring, hawk, evening, -wintry skies—he has dearly loved. And if what it tells of is to be -seen as clearly and truly as if it were before one's very eyes, it -must be read intently—all one's imagination alert to gather up the -full virtue of the words, and to picture in the mind each fleeting and -living object in turn.</p> - -<p>As I write these lines I cannot refrain from suggesting how thankful we -should be to be living in a day when three great poets, who have been -long in the world, are adding to the riches of English poetry—Thomas -Hardy, Charles Doughty, and the Poet Laureate, Robert Bridges. It is -but a little while, too, since the death of that exquisite writer, and -lover of all things true and beautiful, Alice Meynell, and of W. H. -Hudson, who was no less a poet because he wrote not in verse but in -prose.</p> - -<p>To compare the great things of one age with the great things of another -is an exceedingly difficult task (and to pit poet against poet, or -imagination against imagination, an exceedingly stupid one). But that -in Elizabeth's day England was indeed a "nest of singing birds" may -be realised by the fact that when Shakespeare was finishing his last -play, <i>The Tempest</i>, in the Spring, apparently, of 1611—when, that -is, he himself was aged 47 (and his Queen had been eight years dead), -Sir Walter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_654" id="Page_654">[654]</a></span> Raleigh was 59, Anthony Munday 58, Samuel Daniel 49, -Michael Drayton 48, Thomas Campion 44, Thomas Dekker (?) 41, John Donne -and Ben Jonson were 38, John Fletcher was 32, Francis Beaumont 27, -William Drummond 26, John Ford 25, William Browne and Robert Herrick -20, Francis Quarles 19, George Herbert 18, Thomas Carew (?) 16, James -Shirley 15, and John Milton (and Sir John Suckling) were 2. It was -seven years before the birth of Richard Lovelace and Abraham Cowley, -ten before Marvell's, and eleven before Vaughan's. Edmund Spenser had -been twelve years dead, Sir Philip Sidney twenty-five—and Chaucer 211.</p> - -<p>Two hundred and fifty years afterwards—in 1861—another great queen -was on the Throne, Victoria. It was the year in which the Prince -Consort died, and Edward, Prince of Wales, came of age. Nor was -England's garden silent then: for in that year William Barnes and -Cardinal Newman were 60, Edward Fitzgerald and Tennyson were 52, Robert -Browning 49, Charles Kingsley 42, Matthew Arnold 39, Coventry Patmore -38, William Allingham 37, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and George Meredith -were 33, Christina Rossetti was 31, William Morris 27, Algernon -Swinburne 24, Mr. Thomas Hardy was 21, Mr. Robert Bridges 17, Robert -Louis Stevenson 11, and Francis Thompson was 2. Other great writers, in -English, then alive were Carlyle, Thackeray, Dickens, Ruskin, Darwin -and Huxley; Emerson, Hawthorne, Longfellow and Walt Whitman. So the -strange flame of genius fitfully burns in this world. And 1611 knew as -little of 1861 as 1861 knew of 2111. (But would that 1923 could leave -to the future one-tenth part of such a legacy as did 1611—the English -Bible!)</p> - -<p>But to return to Shakespeare. He was born in April 1564. About 1591 -he wrote the first of his plays, <i>Love's Labour's Lost</i>. By 1611 he -had finished the last of them; 34 in all as they appear in the first -Folio, 37 as they now appear in the Canon. And apart from these, his -Poems. There followed a strange silence. On the 25th of March, 1616, -"in perfect health and memory (God be praised!)," he made his will. -On St. George's Day, 1616, he died. To reflect for a moment on that -brief lifetime, on that twenty years' work which is now a perennial -fountain of happiness, light and wisdom to the whole world, is to -marvel indeed. The life-giving secret of this supreme genius none can -tell. We know not even our own. But there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_655" id="Page_655">[655]</a></span> is a story told by Thomas -Campbell: "It was predicted of a young man lately belonging to one of -our universities, that he would certainly become a prodigy because he -read sixteen hours a day. 'Ah, but,' said somebody, 'how many hours -a day does he <i>think</i>?' It might have been added, 'How many hours -does he feel?'" So of Shakespeare. As, then, said his old friends and -fellow-players, John Heminge and Henry Condell in their Preface to the -Folio: "Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe: And if then you -doe not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger...."</p> - - -<h4 id="note_441"><a href="#sn_441">441</a>. "<span class="smcap">With such a Sky.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>It is a beauteous Evening, calm and free,</div> - <div>The holy time is quiet as a Nun</div> - <div>Breathless with adoration; the broad sun</div> - <div>Is sinking down in its tranquillity;</div> - <div>The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea:</div> - <div>Listen! the mighty Being is awake,</div> - <div>And doth with his eternal motion make</div> - <div>A sound like thunder—everlastingly....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Wordsworth</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_442"><a href="#sn_442">442</a>. "<span class="smcap">Shepherds all, and Maidens fair, Fold your Flocks.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,</div> - <div>The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,</div> - <div>The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,</div> - <div>And leaves the world to darkness and to me.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,</div> - <div>And all the air a solemn stillness holds,</div> - <div>Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight.</div> - <div>And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:...</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>These lines and the stanzas that follow them in the <i>Elegy in a Country -Churchyard</i> are as familiar as any in English, and may be found in -almost every collection of poems. Here, "a figure on paper"—from a -letter to a friend written by the author of them, Thomas Gray, on -November 19, 1764, is a description—not of evening after the setting -of the sun—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_656" id="Page_656">[656]</a></span> but of a sun-<i>rise</i> as vivid as if one's own naked eye -had watched its "Levee":</p> - -<p>I must not close my letter without giving you one principal event of -my history; which was, that (in the course of my late tour) I set out -one morning before five o'clock, the moon shining through a dark and -misty autumnal air, and got to the sea-coast time enough to be at the -Sun's Levee. I saw the clouds and dark vapours open gradually to right -and left, rolling over one another in great smoky wreathes, and the -tide (as it flowed gently in upon the sands) first whitening, then -slightly tinged with gold and blue; and all at once a little line of -unsufferable brightness that (before I can write these five words) -was grown to half an orb, and now to a whole one, too glorious to be -distinctly seen. It is very odd it makes no figure on paper; yet I -shall remember it, as long as the sun, or at least as long as I endure. -I wonder whether anybody ever saw it before? I hardly believe it."</p> - -<p>So each day, one remembers, the sun rises, indeed is rising always -above <i>some</i> watchful eye's horizon, and we come so to expect its -rising, and so to be assured of it, as though it were no less certain -than that twice two are four. But, in fact, it is only just certain -enough to prevent night from being a dreadful apprehension, and life -from becoming a mere routine. As Coleridge says in his <i>Table Talk</i>:</p> - -<p>"Suppose Adam watching the sun sinking under the western horizon for -the first time; he is seized with gloom and terror, relieved by scarce -a ray of hope that he shall ever see the glorious light again. The next -evening, when it declines, his hopes are stronger, but still mixed with -fear; and even at the end of a thousand years, all that a man can feel -is a hope and an expectation so strong as to preclude anxiety."</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>... High among the lonely hills,</div> - <div>While I lay beside my sheep,</div> - <div>Rest came down and filled my soul,</div> - <div>From the everlasting deep.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Changeless march the stars above,</div> - <div>Changeless morn succeeds to even;</div> - <div>Still the everlasting hills</div> - <div>Changeless watch the changeless heaven....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Charles Kingsley</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_657" id="Page_657">[657]</a></span></p> - - -<h4 id="note_444"><a href="#sn_444">444</a>. "<span class="smcap">The children are going to bed.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon, croon,</div> - <div class="i1">Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon.</div> - <div>The Sheep are gane to the siller wood,</div> - <div class="i1">And the cows are gane to the broom, broom.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And it's braw milking the kye, kye,</div> - <div class="i1">It's braw milking the kye,</div> - <div>The birds are singing, the bells are ringing,</div> - <div class="i1">And the wild deer come galloping by, by.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>And hush-a-ba, birdie, croon, croon,</div> - <div class="i1">Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon.</div> - <div>The Gaits are gane to the mountain hie,</div> - <div class="i1">And they'll no be hame till noon, noon.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>This for the littlest ones, the cradle-creatures. But for the rest:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Boys and Girls, come out to play,</div> - <div>The Moon doth shine as bright as day;</div> - <div>Come with a whoop, come with a call,</div> - <div>Come with a goodwill or don't come at all;</div> - <div>Lose your supper and lose your sleep—</div> - <div>So come to your playmates in the street.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And if you should want actually to bring that Moon to earth, this is -how Quince managed it in <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - -<p class="center p-left smcap">The Rehearsal.</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent5"><i>Snout.</i><span class="i1">Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our play?</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent5"><i>Bottom.</i><span class="i1">A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack, -finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Quince.</i><span class="i1">Yes, it doth shine that night.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent5"><i>Bottom.</i><span class="i1">Why then may you leave a casement of the great - chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone may shine in at the casement.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent5"><i>Quince.</i><span class="i1">Ay, or else one must come in with a bush of - thorns and a lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present the person of - Moone-shine....</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_658" id="Page_658">[658]</a></span></div> - </div> - -<p class="center p-left smcap">The Play.</p> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div><i>Lysander.</i><span class="ih">Proceed, Moone.</span></div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent5"><i>Moone.</i><span class="i1">All that I have to say, is to tell you, that the - Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this thorne bush, my thorne bush; - and this dog, my dog....</span></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>And here is a stanza from a very old poem about that same "man in the -Moone":</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Mon, in the mone, stond ant streit,</div> - <div class="i1">On is bot-forke is burthen he bereth:</div> - <div>Hit is muche wonder that he na down slyt,</div> - <div class="i1">For doute leste he valle he shoddreth ant shereth:</div> - <div class="i1">When the frost freseth muche chele he byd,</div> - <div>The thornes beth kene is hattren to-tereth;</div> - <div class="i1">Nis no wytht in the world that wot wen he syt,</div> - <div>Ne, bote hit bue the hegge, whet wedes he wereth.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p class="p-left">which means, I gather, that</p> - -<p>the Man in the Moon stands up there stark and still in her -silver, carrying his thornbush on his pitchfork. It's a marvel -he doesn't slide down; he's shuddering and shaking at the -thought of it. When the frost sharpens, he'll be frozen to his -marrow. The prickles stick out to tear his clothes; but nobody -in the world has seen him sit down, or knows apart from his -thornbush what he has on.</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I see the Moon,</div> - <div>The Moon sees me;</div> - <div>God bless the sailors,</div> - <div>And bless me.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_449"><a href="#sn_449">449</a>. "<span class="smcap">That busy Archer.</span>" (line 4)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though I am young and cannot tell</div> - <div>Either what Love or Death is well,</div> - <div>Yet I have heard they both bear darts</div> - <div>And both do aim at human hearts....</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">Ben Jonson</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_659" id="Page_659">[659]</a></span></p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Are Beauties there as proud as here they be.</span>" (line 11)</h4> - -<p>... The palace of her father the King, was on that side the Moon no -mortal sees, and of such an enchantment was her cold beauty that on -earth none resembles it. Yet all her flattery and pride was but to win -the idolatrous love of far-travelling Princes, or even of wanderers -of common blood; for the sake of that love and admiration only. And -many perished in those rock-bound deserts and parched and icy lunar -wildernesses on account of this proud damsel; before a strange fate -befell her....</p> - -<p>Here, too, is a fragment (from a thirteenth century MS.), to be found -in <i>A Medieval Garner</i>:</p> - -<p>"What shall we say of the ladies when they come to feasts? Each marks -well the other's head; they wear bosses like horned beasts, and if any -have no horns, she is a laughing stock for the rest. Their arms go -merrily when they come into the room; they display their kerchiefs of -silk and cambric, set on their buttons of coral and amber, and cease -not their babble so long as they are in the bower.... But however well -their attire be fashioned, when the feast is come, it pleases them -nought; so great is their envy now and so high grows their pride, that -the bailiff's daughter counterfeits the lady.'"</p> - - -<h4 id="note_450"><a href="#sn_450">450</a>. "<span class="smcap">She hath no Air.</span>" (line 5)</h4> - -<p class="p-left">—and that being so:</p> - -<p>".... There will be no sounds on the moon.... Even a meteor shattering -itself to a violent end against the surface of the moon would make -no noise. Nor would it herald its coming by glowing into a 'shooting -star,' as it would on entering the earth's atmosphere. There will be -no floating dust, no scent, no twilight, no blue sky, no twinkling of -the stars. The sky will be always black and the stars will be clearly -visible by day as by night. The sun's wonderful corona, which no man on -earth, even by seizing every opportunity during eclipses, can hope to -see for more than two hours in all, in a long lifetime, will be visible -all day. So will the great red flames of the sun.... There will be no -life (since) for fourteen days there is continuous night, when the -temperature must sink away down towards the absolute cold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_660" id="Page_660">[660]</a></span> of space. -This will be followed without an instant of twilight by full daylight. -For another fourteen days the sun's rays will bear straight down, with -no diffusion or absorption of their heat, or light, on the way...."</p> - -<p>This is a matter-of-fact fragment out of "The Outline of Science," -edited by Professor J. Arthur Thompson; but it would not be easy to say -exactly how in its magical <i>effect</i> on the mind it differs from poetry. -Indeed, there can hardly be a quicker journey to the comprehension of -scientific fact than by way of the imagination. Moonless mountainous -Hesper, the Evening Star, is an even lovelier thing to watch shining in -the fading rose and green of sunset when we realise that at her most -radiant—a radiance that casts an earthly shadow even—it is but a -slim crescent of the planet that we see, a planet, too, almost sister -in magnitude to the earth, but whose briefer year is of an ardour -that might be happiness to fiery sprite and salamander, but would be -unendurable to watery creatures like ourselves. Nor could language be -used more scientifically (concisely, pregnantly and exactly), than in -the words <i>moving</i>, <i>human</i>, <i>mask</i>, in the following sonnet by John -Keats—a sonnet written in mortal illness and in immortal sorrowfulness:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—</div> - <div class="i1">Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night</div> - <div>And watching, with eternal lids apart,</div> - <div class="i1">Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,</div> - <div>The moving waters at their priestlike task</div> - <div class="i1">Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,</div> - <div>Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask</div> - <div class="i1">Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,</div> - <div class="i1">Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast,</div> - <div>To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,</div> - <div class="i1">Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,</div> - <div>Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,</div> - <div>And so live ever—or else swoon to death.</div> - <div class="i16 smcap">John Keats</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_455"><a href="#sn_455">455</a>. "<span class="smcap">Right good is rest.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving</div> - <div>Lock me in delight awhile;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_661" id="Page_661">[661]</a></span></div> - <div>Let some pleasing dreams beguile</div> - <div>All my fancies: that from thence</div> - <div>I may feel an influence</div> - <div>All my powers of care bereaving!</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Though but a shadow, but a sliding,</div> - <div>Let me know some little joy!</div> - <div>We that suffer long annoy</div> - <div>Are contented with a thought</div> - <div>Through an idle fancy wrought:</div> - <div>O let my joys have some abiding!</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">John Fletcher</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_457"><a href="#sn_457">457</a>. <span class="smcap">Before Sleeping.</span></h4> - -<p>I have pieced this rhyme together from well-known versions and -fragments. But the Angels?—</p> - -<p>"And after that, I sawe iiij Angels stande on the iiij corners of the -erth holdynge the foure wyndes of the erth, that the wyndes shuld not -blowe on the erth, nether on the see, nether on eny tree."</p> - - -<p class="center p-left">The Revelation of S. John the Divine (1539).</p> - -<p>"And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the -throne and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them was ten -thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands."</p> - -<p> -The Same (1611). -</p> - -<p>Of these Angels, having their fitting place among the -hierarchies—Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones; Dominations, Virtues, Powers; -Principalities, Archangels, Angels—no names are given. But Michael -and Gabriel are archangels named in the Bible, and in the Apocrypha -and elsewhere, Raphael, Zadkiel, Uriel, Chamuel, Jophiel. These too; -steadfast or fallen: Samael, Semalion, Abdiel and gigantic Sandalphon, -Rahab, Prince of the Sea; Ridia, Prince of the Rain; Yurkemi, Prince of -the Hail; Af of Anger; Abaddona of Destruction; Lailah of Night. And in -<i>Paradise Lost</i>:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Now had night measured with her shadowy cone</div> - <div>Halfway up-hill this vast sublunar vault;</div> - <div>And from their ivory port the Cherubim</div> - <div>Forth issuing, at the accustomed hour, stood armed....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_662" id="Page_662">[662]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then speak together Gabriel, Uzziel, Ithuriel, Zephon. And last—not -the most distant from mortal love—strangely-angelled Poe's -shrill-tongued Israfel:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>In Heaven a spirit doth dwell</div> - <div class="i1">Whose heart-strings are a lute;</div> - <div>None sing so wildly well</div> - <div>As the angel Israfel,</div> - <div>And the giddy stars (so legends tell),</div> - <div>Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell</div> - <div class="i1">Of his voice, all mute....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Yes, Heaven is thine; but this</div> - <div class="i1">Is a world of sweets and sours;</div> - <div class="i1">Our flowers are merely—flowers,</div> - <div>And the shadow of thy perfect bliss</div> - <div class="i1">Is the sunshine of ours.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>If I could dwell</div> - <div>Where Israfel</div> - <div class="i1">Hath dwelt, and he where I,</div> - <div>He might not sing so wildly well</div> - <div class="i1">A mortal melody,</div> - <div>While a bolder note than this might swell</div> - <div class="i1">From my lyre within the sky.</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Oh speake againe bright angell, for thou art</div> - <div>As glorious to this night being ore my head,</div> - <div>As is a wingèd messenger of heaven</div> - <div>Unto the white upturned wondring eyes</div> - <div>Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him.</div> - <div class="i10"><i>Romeo and Juliet</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>In paint and wood and words and stone Man has for centuries made -pictures and images for symbols of angelic might and beauty. But what -does he know of these Beings in themselves?—"That there are distinct -orders of Angels, assuredly I believe, but what they are I cannot -tell.... They are creatures that have not so much of a body as flesh -is, as froth is, as a vapour is, as a sigh is; and yet with a touch -they shall moulder a rock into less atoms than the sand that it stands -upon, and a millstone into smaller flour than it grinds. They are -creatures made, and yet not a minute older than when they were first -made, if they were made before all measures of time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_663" id="Page_663">[663]</a></span> begun; nor, if -they were made in the beginning of time, and be now six thousand years -old, have they one wrinkle of age in their face, one sob of weariness -in their lungs. They are <i>primogeniti Dei</i>, God's eldest sons...."</p> - -<p class="smcap r1">John Donne</p> - - -<h4 id="note_459"><a href="#sn_459">459</a>.</h4> - -<p>This is the Song sung by his guardian Angel to a young sleeping Prince -who has been cheated of his inheritance. It was printed by Charles -Lamb in his <i>English Dramatic Poets</i>, from a Tragedy entitled <i>The -Conspiracy</i>, written by Henry Killigrew when he was seventeen.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_460"><a href="#sn_460">460</a>. <span class="smcap">The Legend of St. Mark.</span></h4> - -<p>The relics of this Saint, who for his miracles was thought to be a -sorcerer, and was murdered by a mob, were interred in Alexandria. -Hundreds of years afterwards these relics were coveted by the Venetians -by reason of the story that the Saint had once visited their city and -had heard speak to him an angel: <i>Pax tibi, Marce. Hic requiescet -corpus tuum</i>. At length two Venetian merchants, having persuaded -the Alexandrians that the sacred bones lay in danger of the raiding -Saracens, travelled back with them to their own city, where they -were reinterred with solemn ceremony in St. Mark's. This church was -afterwards burned to the ground, and the relics were lost. A century -passed; a wondrously beautiful church had arisen from the ashes of -the old, and during the ceremony held in the faith that it would be -revealed where they lay hid, suddenly a light shone forth from one of -the great piers, there was a sound of falling masonry, and, lo, the -body of the Saint, with arm outstretched, as if at finger's touch he -had revealed his secret resting-place.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Doves of Siam, Lima mice,<br /> - And legless birds of Paradise.</span>" (p. 470.)</h4> - -<p>What particular kinds of doves and mice Keats had in mind here I cannot -yet discover. But, according to Topsell, mice are of these kinds: the -short, small, fearful, peaceable, ridiculous, rustik, or country mouse, -the urbane or citty mouse, the greedy, wary, unhappy, harmefull, black, -obscene, little, whiner, biter, and earthly mouse. Mice, too, he says, -are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_664" id="Page_664">[664]</a></span> "sometimes blackish, sometimes white, sometimes yellow, sometimes -broune and sometimes ashe colour. There are white mice amonge the -people of Savoy, and Dolphin in France, called alaubroges, which the -inhabitants of the country do beleev that they feede upon snow." Then, -again, "the field mouse, the farie, with a long snout; and the sleeper, -that is of a dun colour and will run on the edge of a sword and sleep -on the point."</p> - -<p>What Topsell meant by "whiner" I am uncertain, but it may be he refers -to the mouse that sings. That is a habit quite distinct from the common -squeaking, shrilling and shrieking. It resembles the slow low trill of -a very distant and sleepy canary, but sweeter and more domestic, and -is as pleasant a thing to hear behind a wainscot, as it is to watch -the creatures gambolling. Why women are apt to fear these tiny beasts -is a mystery. But whatever mischief their ravagings may cause, may I -never live under a roof wherein (Cat or no Cat) there is no inch of -house-room for Mistress Mouse!</p> - -<p>The fable that the Bird of Paradise is "legless" was set abroad by -travellers who had seen in old days its exquisite dismembered carcase -prepared for merchandise. It is hard to explain that Man, capable -of imagining a bird "whose fixed abode is the region of the air," -sustaining itself "solely on dew," can also slaughter it and tie it up -in bundles for feminine finery. But so it is.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">At Venice</span>...." (p. 471)</h4> - -<p>So Keats left—unfinished—this, one of the happiest of his poems. -There are others in this volume: but not the <i>Eve of St. Agnes</i>, or -<i>Hyperion</i>, or the odes, <i>to a Nightingale, on a Grecian Urn</i>, or the -strange <i>On Melancholy</i>. Nor are any of his Letters here—as full a -revelation of the powers and understanding of that rare mind, as the -poems are of his imagination.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_466"><a href="#sn_466">466</a>. "<span class="smcap">Low in the South the 'cross'.</span>"</h4> - -<p>We peoples of the Northern hemisphere, from the Chinese and Chaldaeans -until this last flitting hour have the joy of so many brilliant and -neighbouring stars in our night sky that for us it is now full of -stories, and thronged with constellations of our own fantasy and -naming. The Chair of Cassiopeia, for instance, is but a feigned passing -picture. Nevertheless, how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_665" id="Page_665">[665]</a></span> pleasant it is to recognise it set zigzag -in the night. For this reason the peoples of the Southern hemisphere, -with their Crown and Net, their Phoenix and Peacock, hold dear the -Southern Cross. It marks their very home.</p> - -<p>And, once more, let me repeat what Miss Taroone said to me: Learn the -common names of every thing you see, Simon; and especially of those -that please you most to remember: then give them names also of your own -making and choosing—if you can. Mr. Nahum has thousands upon thousands -of words and names in his mind and yet he often fails to understand -what I say to him. Nor does he always remember that though every snail -is a snail and a Hoddydoddy, and every toad is a toad and a Joey, and -every centipede is a centipede and a Maggie-monyfeet, each is just as -much only its own self as you, Simon, are You.</p> - - -<h4 id="note_469"><a href="#sn_469">469</a>. "<span class="smcap">Once a Dream did weave a Shade.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>Full in the passage of the vale, above,</div> - <div>A sable, silent, solemn, forest stood,</div> - <div>Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move,</div> - <div>As idless fancy'd in her dreaming mood;</div> - <div>And up the hills, on either side, a wood</div> - <div>Of blackening pines, ay waving to and fro,</div> - <div>Sent forth a sleepy horror thro' the blood;</div> - <div>And where this valley winded out, below,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was,</div> - <div>Of Dreams that wave before the half-shut eye,</div> - <div>And of gay Castles in the clouds that pass,</div> - <div>For ever flushing round a summer sky....</div> - <div class="i14 smcap">James Thomson</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_470"><a href="#sn_470">470</a>. "<span class="smcap">Awake, Awake!</span>"</h4> - -<p>"I thank God for my happy dreams," wrote Sir Thomas Browne in the -<i>Religio Medici</i>, "as I do for my good rest.... And surely it is not a -melancholy conceit [or fancy] to think we are all asleep in this world, -and that the conceits of this life are as mere dreams to those of the -next as the phantasms of the night to the conceits of the day. There is -an equal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_666" id="Page_666">[666]</a></span> delusion in both, and the one doth but seem to be the emblem -or picture of the other; we are somewhat more than ourselves in our -sleeps, and the slumber of the body seems to be but the waking of the -soul...."</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>The Door of Death is made of gold,</div> - <div>That Mortal Eyes cannot behold;</div> - <div>But, when the Mortal Eyes are closed,</div> - <div>And cold and pale the Limbs reposed,</div> - <div>The Soul awakes; and, wondering sees</div> - <div>In her mild Hand the golden Keys:</div> - <div>The Grave is Heaven's golden Gate,</div> - <div>And rich and poor around it wait;</div> - <div>O Shepherdess of England's Fold,</div> - <div>Behold this Gate of Pearl and Gold!...</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I give you the end of a golden string;</div> - <div class="i2">Only wind it into a ball,</div> - <div>It will lead you in at Heaven's gate,</div> - <div class="i2">Built in Jerusalem's wall.</div> - <div class="i10 smcap">William Blake</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_473"><a href="#sn_473">473</a>. "<span class="smcap">Does the Road wind Up-hill all the Way.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Gentle herdsman, tell to me,</div> - <div class="i1">Of courtesy I thee pray,</div> - <div>Unto the town of Walsingham</div> - <div class="i1">Which is the right and ready way."</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>"Unto the town of Walsingham</div> - <div class="i1">The way is hard for to be gone;</div> - <div>And very crooked are those paths,</div> - <div class="i1">For you to find out all alone...."</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p>Not so Babylon:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>How many Miles to Babylon?</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Three score and ten.</i></div> - <div>Can I get there by candle-light?</div> - <div class="i1"><i>Ay: and back again.</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_477"><a href="#sn_477">477</a>.</h4> - -<p>This poem for its full beauty must be read very slowly. Eve in long -memory is musing within herself, hardly able to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_667" id="Page_667">[667]</a></span> utter the words, -because of her grief and sorrow, and of the heavy sighs between them.</p> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">Death is the Fruit.</span>"</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>I am Eve, great Adam's wife,</div> - <div>'Tis I that outraged Jesus of old;</div> - <div>'Tis I that robbed my children of Heaven,</div> - <div>By rights 'tis I that should have gone upon the Cross....</div> - </div> - - <div class="stanza"> - <div>There would be no ice in any place,</div> - <div>There would be no glistening windy winter,</div> - <div>There would be no hell, there would be no sorrow,</div> - <div>There would be no fear, if it were not for me.</div> - <div class="i12 smcap">Tr. Kuno Meyer</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4>"<span class="smcap">The kind Hart's Tears were falling.</span>" (stanza 7)</h4> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div>To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe,</div> - <div>Did steale behinde him as he lay along</div> - <div>Under an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out</div> - <div>Upon the brooke that brawles along this wood.</div> - <div>To the which place a poore sequestred Stag</div> - <div>That from the Hunter's aime had tane a hurt,</div> - <div>Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord</div> - <div>The wretched annimall heaved forth such groanes</div> - <div>That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat</div> - <div>Almost to bursting, and the big round teares</div> - <div>Coursed one another downe his innocent nose</div> - <div>In pitteous chase....</div> - <div class="i14"><i>As You Like It</i></div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - -<h4 id="note_483"><a href="#sn_483">483</a>. "<span class="smcap">This is the Key.</span>"</h4> - -<p>And so—like the mediaeval traveller who had made a complete circuit -of the world without knowing it—we have come back to the place which -we started from. "The Elephant," says Topsell, in his <i>Historie of -Foure-footed Beastes</i>, "is delighted above measure with sweet savours, -ointments, and smelling flowers, for which cause their Keeper will in -the summer time lead them into the meadows of flowers, where they of -themselves will by the quickness of their smelling, choose out and -gather the sweetest flowers, and put them into a basket if their Keeper -have any....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_668" id="Page_668">[668]</a></span></p> - -<p>(Having sought) out water (wherewith) to wash themselves, (they will) -of their own accord return back again to the basket of flowers, which, -if they find not, they will bray and call for them. Afterward, being -led into their stable, they will not eat meat until they take off their -flowers and dress the brims of their manger therewith, and likewise -strew their room or standing place, pleasing themselves with their -meat, because of the savour of the flowers stuck about their cratch." -Mr. Nahum himself, it seems to me, might have written that. What was -his <i>Other Worlde</i> but such "a Basket of Flowers": the forthshowing -in formal beauty—in this world's soil, and beneath ministering rain, -sunshine and dew—of the imaginations of men? Even Miss Taroone could -have uttered a secret word or two in the great ear of the Elephants at -their cratch: and were there not in her garden at Thrae flowers beyond -telling?—William Blake's:</p> - - <div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="hangingindent">First ere the morning breaks joy opens in the flowery bosoms,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Joy even to tears.... First the Wild Thyme</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And Meadow-sweet downy and soft waving among the reeds</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Light springing on the air lead the sweet Dance: they wake</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The Honeysuckle sleeping on the Oak: the flaunting beauty</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Revels along upon the wind: the White-thorn, lovely May,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">Opens her many lovely eyes: listening the Rose still sleeps:</div> - <div class="hangingindent">None dare to wake her: soon she bursts her crimson curtained bed,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And comes forth in the majesty of beauty: every Flower,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The Pink, the Jessamine, the Wall-flower, the Carnation,</div> - <div class="hangingindent">The Jonquil, the mild Lilly opes her heavens: every Tree</div> - <div class="hangingindent">And Flower and Herb soon fill the air with an innumerable Dance.</div> - <div>Yet all in order sweet and lovely....</div> - </div> - </div> - </div> - -<p class="p-left"><i>And so, Farewell.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_669" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_669.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>AND SO FAREWELL</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_671" id="Page_671">[671]</a></span></p> - - -<h2><a name="ACKNOWLEDGMENTS" id="ACKNOWLEDGMENTS">ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</a></h2> - - -<p>For the use of copyright poems in this volume I have to thank—and most -gratefully I do so—the following authors and publishers:—Mr. Martin -Armstrong (and Mr. Martin Seeker); Mr. Lascelles Abercrombie (and Mr. -John Lane); Mr. Edmund Blunden (and Mr. Cobden Sanderson); Mr. H. H. -Bashford (Messrs. Harrap & Company and Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & -Company); Mrs. Bunston de Bary; Mr. Laurence Binyon (and Messrs. Elkin -Matthews); Mr. Hilaire Belloc (and Messrs. Duckworth & Company); Mr. -Robert Bridges (and Mr. John Murray); Mr. Gordon Bottomley; Mr. Padraic -Colum (Messrs. Maunsell & Roberts Ltd., and Messrs. the Macmillan -Company); Mr. William H. Davies (Mr. Jonathan Cape and Mr. Alfred A. -Knopf); the executors of the late Lord de Tabley; Mr. C. M. Doughty; -Mr. Edward L. Davison (and Messrs. G. Bell & Sons); Mr. Charles Dalmon -(and Messrs. Methuen & Company); Mr. John Drinkwater (Messrs. Sidgwick -& Jackson, and Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Company); Mr. Vivian Locke -Ellis; Mr. Robert Frost (and Messrs. Harcourt, Brace & Company); Mr. -John Freeman; Miss Eleanor Farjeon (Messrs. Selwyn & Blount, Messrs. -J. M. Dent & Sons, and Messrs. E. P. Dutton & Company); Mrs. Furse -(and Messrs. Constable & Company); Mr. Robert Graves; the Viscountess -Grey; Mr. Edmund Gosse; Mr. Wilfrid Gibson (Messrs. Elkin Mathews, and -Messrs. Macmillan & Company); Mr. Crosbie Garstin (and Messrs. Sidgwick -& Jackson); Mr. Thomas Hardy (and Messrs. Macmillan & Company); Mr. -Ralph Hodgson (and Messrs. Macmillan & Company); Miss Gwen John; Mr. -Rudyard Kipling (Messrs. Macmillan & Company, and Messrs. Doubleday, -Page & Company); Mr. Sidney Royse Lysaght (and Messrs. Macmillan & -Company); Mr. Harold Monro; Mr. John Masefield; Mrs. Manning-Sanders -(and Messrs. the Hogarth Tress); Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_672" id="Page_672">[672]</a></span> T. Sturge Moore (and Mr. Grant -Richards); Miss Charlotte Mew (Mr. Harold Monro and Messrs. the -Macmillan Company); Miss Viola Meynell; Sir Henry Newbolt; Mr. Alfred -Noyes (and Messrs. William Blackwood & Sons); Mr. Seumas O'Sullivan -(Messrs. Maunsell & Roberts); Mr. Conal O'Riordan; Mr. F. J. Patmore; -Miss Madeleine Caron Rock; Miss Lizette Woodworth Reese (and Mr. Thomas -B. Mosher); Mr. James Stephens (Messrs. Maunsell & Roberts and Messrs, -the Macmillan Company); Mr. Siegfried Sassoon; Miss Edith Sitwell (and -Mr. B. H. Blackwell); Mr. Edward Shanks (and Messrs. Collins, Sons -& Company); Mr. J. C. Squire (and Messrs. Hodder & Stoughton); Mrs. -Katharine Tynan Hinkson; Mr. Herbert Trench; Mr. Walter J. Turner (and -Messrs. Sidgwick & Jackson); Miss Elinor Wylie (and Messrs. Harcourt, -Brace & Company); Mr. Francis Brett Young (and Messrs. W. Collins, Sons -& Company); Mr. W. B. Yeats (Messrs. T. Fisher Unwin and Messrs. the -Macmillan Company).</p> - -<p>It is, too, a happy privilege to have been permitted to include poems -by Mrs. Webb, Mr. Eric Batterham, Mr. Gilbert Sheldon, Mr. Bernard -Sleigh, Miss Elizabeth Ramal, and Mr. Colin Francis which have not -hitherto appeared in any other published collection.</p> - -<p>My most grateful thanks are due also to Mr. Edward Marsh (Messrs. -Sidgwick & Jackson and Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Company) for two poems by -Rupert Brooke; to Mr. Clement Shorter for six poems by Emily Bronte, -and a poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter; to Sir Henry Newbolt for seven -poems by Mary Coleridge; to Mr. Cobden-Sanderson for three poems by -John Clare; to Mr. John Murray and to the executors of Canon Dixon for -two poems; to Mrs. Flecker (and Mr. Martin Seeker) for two poems by -James Elroy Flecker; to Lady Gomme for rhymes from "Traditional Games"; -to the Viscountess Grey for poems from "The White Wallet"; to Miss -Antonie Meyer (and Messrs. Constable & Company) for six translations -by Kuno Meyer; to Mrs. Meynell herself and to Mr. Wilfrid Meynell (and -Messrs. Burns & Oates) for three poems; to Mr. William Meredith and to -Messrs. Constable & Company for two poems by George Meredith; to Mrs. -Sharp for one poem by "Fiona Macleod" (William Sharp); to Miss Morris, -Mr. S. C. Cockerill (and Messrs. Longmans, Green &<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_673" id="Page_673">[673]</a></span> Company) for two -poems by William Morris; to Mrs. Owen for a poem by Wilfred Owen; to -Mrs. C. Patmore (and Messrs. G. Bell & Sons, Ltd.) for two poems by -Coventry Patmore; to Messrs. Macmillan & Company for eight poems by -Christina Rossetti; to Mr. Lloyd Osbourne (Messrs. Chatto & Windus -and Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons) for four poems by Robert Louis -Stevenson; to Mr. William Heinemann for a poem by Algernon Charles -Swinburne; to Miss E. Margaret Courtney Boyd for a poem by William Bell -Scott; to Mrs. Thomas (and Messrs. Selwyn & Blount) for seven poems by -Edward Thomas; to Mr. Wilfrid Meynell (and Messrs. Burns & Oates) for -three poems by Francis Thompson; to Messrs. P. J. and A. E. Dobell for -quotations from the writings of Thomas Traherne.</p> - -<p>For permission to use prose extracts, etc., which for the most part -have already been referred to on pages 497-668. I am gratefully -indebted to Dr. Blackman for his translation on Page 593; to Mr. Basil -Blackwell for first grateful sight of Bunyan's "Book for Boys and -Girls"; to Mrs. Child Sargent, Mr. George Lyman Kittredge and Messrs. -George G. Harrap & Company for selections from "English and Scottish -Popular Ballads"; to Mr. G. G. Coulton; to Dr. Courtenay Dunn and to -Messrs. Sampson Low, Marston & Company; to Messrs. J. M. Dent & Sons -for a quotation from "A Hind in Richmond Park" by W. H. Hudson; to -Mr. Tickner Edwardes (and Messrs. Methuen & Company); to Lady Gomme; -to Messrs. Longman for a quotation from "The Diary of Master William -Silence"; to Miss Emma Phipson (and Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench, -Trubner & Company); to Mr. H. M. Tomlinson; to Professor J. Arthur -Thompson (and Messrs. George Newnes); to Mrs. Wright; to Mr. W. B. -Yeats; and to Mr. Filson Young. Also to the Clarendon Press, and to the -Hakluyt Society.</p> - -<p>And I would ask forgiveness of any one whose rights I may have -inadvertently overlooked.</p> - -<p>For generous help, counsel and kindness, in the preparation of this -book it is a happiness to express my gratitude to many friends—to -Miss Naomi Royde Smith, Mr. Martin Freeman, Mr. J. W. Haines, Mr. -Gilbert Sheldon, Mr. Frank Morley, Mr. Forrest Reid, and to Mr. James -MacLehose; and, last, to my niece, Miss Lucy Rowley, to whom it owes -more than words can say.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - - <div class="figcenter" id="i_675" > - <img - class="p0" - src="images/i_675.jpg" - alt="" /> - </div> - - -<h2>INDEXES</h2> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_677" id="Page_677">[677]</a></span></p> - - -<h2>INDEX OF AUTHORS</h2> - -<p>[<i>Poems by writers whose names are unknown will be found marked with -an asterisk in the Index of Poems. In the following Index the names of -writers still living are similarly denoted.</i>]</p> - -<ul> - <li class="left">*Abercrombie, Lascelles, - <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, - <a href="#Page_636">636</a></li> - <li>Allingham, William (1824-1889), - <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, - <a href="#Page_520">520</a></li> - <li class="left">*Armstrong, Martin - <a href="#Page_102">102</a></li> - <li>Aubrey, John (1626-1697), - <a href="#Page_568">568</a>, - <a href="#Page_601">601</a></li> - <li>Augustine, St. (d. 604), - <a href="#Page_606">606</a></li> -</ul> - - -<ul> - <li class="hangingindent">Barnes, William (1801-1886), - <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, - <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, - <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, - <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, - <a href="#Page_540">540</a>, - <a href="#Page_581">581</a>, - <a href="#Page_594">594</a></li> - <li>Barnfield, Richard (1574-1627), - <a href="#Page_107">107</a></li> - <li class="left">*Bashford, H. H., - <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li> - <li class="left">*Batterham, Eric N., - <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li> - <li>Beaumont, Francis (1584-1616), - <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, - <a href="#Page_599">599</a></li> - <li>Beddoes, Thomas Lovell (1803-1849), - <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, - <a href="#Page_449">449</a>, - <a href="#Page_624">624</a></li> - <li class="left">*Belloc, Hilaire, - <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> - <li>Best, Charles (fl. 1602), - <a href="#Page_354">354</a></li> - <li class="left">*Binyon, Laurence, - <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, - <a href="#Page_212">212</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Blake, William (1757-1827), - <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, - <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, - <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, - <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, - <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, - <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, - <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, - <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, - <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, - <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, - <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, - <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, - <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, - <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, - <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, - <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, - <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, - <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, - <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, - <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, - <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, - <a href="#Page_545">545</a>, - <a href="#Page_652">652</a>, - <a href="#Page_666">666</a>, - <a href="#Page_668">668</a></li> - <li>Blunden, Edmund, - <a href="#Page_79">79</a></li> - <li class="left">*Bottomley, Gordon, - <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li> - <li>Breton, Nicholas (1545?-1626?), - <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> - <li class="left">*Bridges, Robert, - <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, - <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, - <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, - <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, - <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Brontë, Emily (1818-1848), - <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, - <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, - <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, - <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, - <a href="#Page_449">449</a>, - <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li> - <li>Brooke, Rupert (1887-1915), - <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, - <a href="#Page_263">263</a></li> - <li>Browne, Sir Thomas (1605-1682), - <a href="#Page_665">665</a></li> - <li>Browne, William (1591-1643?), - <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, - <a href="#Page_604">604</a></li> - <li>Bryant, William Cullen (1794-1878), - <a href="#Page_113">113</a></li> - <li>Buckhurst, Lord (1536-1608), - <a href="#Page_115">115</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Bunyan, John (1628-1688), - <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, - <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, - <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, - <a href="#Page_558">558</a>, - <a href="#Page_582">582</a>, - <a href="#Page_652">652</a></li> - <li>Burns, Robert (1759-1796), - <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, - <a href="#Page_187">187</a></li> - <li>Burton, Robert (1577-1640), - <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, - <a href="#Page_613">613</a></li> - <li>Byron, Lord (1788-1824), - <a href="#Page_464">464</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Callanan, Jeremiah John (1795-1829), - <a href="#Page_354">354</a></li> - <li>Campbell, Thomas (1777-1844), - <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, - <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, - <a href="#Page_571">571</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Campion, Thomas (1567-1619), - <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, - <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, - <a href="#Page_482">482</a>, - <a href="#Page_595">595</a>, - <a href="#Page_628">628</a></li> - <li>Carbery, Ethna (d. 1902), - <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> - <li>Carew, Thomas (1595?-1639?), - <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> - <li>Cartwright, William (1611-1643), - <a href="#Page_101">101</a></li> - <li>Cellini, Benvenuto (1500-1571), - <a href="#Page_613">613</a></li> - <li>Chapman, George (1559?-1634), - <a href="#Page_635">635</a></li> - <li>Charles I. (1600-1649), - <a href="#Page_467">467</a></li> - <li>Chatterton, Thomas (1752-1770), - <a href="#Page_266">266</a></li> - <li>Chaucer, Geoffrey (1340?-1400), - <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, - <a href="#Page_511">511</a>, - <a href="#Page_544">544</a></li> - <li>Clare, John (1793-1864), - <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, - <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, - <a href="#Page_517">517</a></li> - <li>Cleland, William (1661?-1689), - <a href="#Page_376">376</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Coleridge, Mary (1861-1907), - <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, - <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, - <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, - <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, - <a href="#Page_355">355</a>, - <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, - <a href="#Page_463">463</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834), - <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, - <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, - <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, - <a href="#Page_335">335</a>, - <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, - <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, - <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, - <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, - <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, - <a href="#Page_516">516</a>, - <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, - <a href="#Page_611">611</a>, - <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, - <a href="#Page_625">625</a>, - <a href="#Page_638">638</a></li> - <li class="left">*Colum, Padraic, - <a href="#Page_52">52</a></li> - <li>Constable, Henry (1562-1613), - <a href="#Page_351">351</a></li> - <li>Corbet, Richard (1582-1635), - <a href="#Page_553">553</a></li> - <li>Cornish, William (fl. 1510), - <a href="#Page_17">17</a></li> - <li>Cowley, Abraham (1618-1667), - <a href="#Page_564">564</a></li> - <li>Cowper, William (1731-1800), - <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, - <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - <li>Cunningham, Allan (1784-1842), - <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, - <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li class="left">*Dalmon, Charles, - <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, - <a href="#Page_355">355</a></li> - <li>Daniel, Samuel (1562-1619), - <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> - <li>Darley, George (1795-1846), - <a href="#Page_643">643</a></li> - <li>Davenant, Sir William (1606-1668), - <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, - <a href="#Page_596">596</a></li> - <li class="left">*Davidson, Edward L., - <a href="#Page_172">172</a></li> - <li class="left">*Davies, William H., - <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, - <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, - <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, - <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, - <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, - <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li> - <li>Davies, Sir John (1569-1626), - <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li> - <li>Davison, Francis (fl. 1602), - <a href="#Page_81">81</a></li> - <li class="left">*De Bary, Anna Bunston, - <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li> - <li>Dekker, Thomas (1570?-1641?), - <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, - <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> - <li>De Tabley, Lord (1835-1895), - <a href="#Page_364">364</a></li> - <li>Dixon, Richard Watson (1833-1900), - <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, - <a href="#Page_224">224</a></li> - <li>Dobell, Sydney (1824-1874), - <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, - <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, - <a href="#Page_316">316</a></li> - <li>Donne, John (1573-1631), - <a href="#Page_628">628</a>, - <a href="#Page_663">663</a></li> - <li class="left">*Doughty, Charles M., - <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li> - <li>Drayton, Michael (1563-1631), - <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, - <a href="#Page_557">557</a></li> - <li class="left">*Drinkwater, John, - <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, - <a href="#Page_298">298</a></li> - <li>Drummond, William (1585-1649), - <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, - <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, - <a href="#Page_585">585</a></li> - <li>Dunbar, William (1465?-1530?), - <a href="#Page_525">525</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Elliot, Jean (1727-1805), - <a href="#Page_188">188</a></li> - <li class="left">*Ellis, Vivian Locke, - <a href="#Page_369">369</a></li> - <li>Emerson, R. W. (1803-1882), - <a href="#Page_562">562</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Farjeon, Eleanor, - <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, - <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, - <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, - <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, - <a href="#Page_465">465</a></li> - <li>Ferguson, Sir Samuel (1810-1886), - <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> - <li>Flecker, James Elroy (1884-1915), - <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, - <a href="#Page_382">382</a></li> - <li>Fleming, Margaret (1803-1811), - <a href="#Page_652">652</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Fletcher, John (1579-1625), - <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, - <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, - <a href="#Page_457">457</a>, - <a href="#Page_596">596</a>, - <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, - <a href="#Page_661">661</a></li> - <li class="left">*Francis, Colin, - <a href="#Page_375">375</a></li> - <li>*Freeman, John, - <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, - <a href="#Page_173">173</a></li> - <li class="left">*Frost, Robert, - <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, - <a href="#Page_587">587</a></li> - <li class="left">*Furse, Margaret Cecilia, - <a href="#Page_563">563</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li class="left">*Garstin, Crosbie, - <a href="#Page_474">474</a></li> - <li class="left">*Gibson, Wilfrid, - <a href="#Page_403">403</a>, - <a href="#Page_415">415</a></li> - <li>Gifford, Humphrey (fl. 1580), - <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - <li>Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-1774), - <a href="#Page_626">626</a></li> - <li>Googe, Barnabe (1540-1594), - <a href="#Page_91">91</a></li> - <li class="left">*Gosse, Edmund, - <a href="#Page_318">318</a></li> - <li>Graves, John Woodcock (1795-1886), - <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> - <li class="left">*Graves, Robert, - <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, - <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, - <a href="#Page_407">407</a></li> - <li>Gray, Thomas (1716-1771), - <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li> - <li>Greene, Robert (1560-1592), - <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - <li class="left">*Grey, Viscountess, - <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Hamilton, John (1761-1814), - <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent left">*Hardy, Thomas, - <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, - <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, - <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, - <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, - <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, - <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, - <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, - <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, - <a href="#Page_570">570</a></li> - <li>Hawes, Stephen (d. 1523?), - <a href="#Page_600">600</a></li> - <li>Hayman, Robert (d. 1631?), - <a href="#Page_189">189</a></li> - <li>Hemans, Felicia (1793-1835), - <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> - <li>Herbert, George (1593-1633), - <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, - <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, - <a href="#Page_483">483</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Herrick, Robert (1591-1674), - <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, - <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, - <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, - <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, - <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, - <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, - <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, - <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, - <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, - <a href="#Page_651">651</a></li> - <li>Heywood, Thomas (d. 1650?), - <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> - <li class="left">*Hodgson, Ralph, - <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, - <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, - <a href="#Page_454">454</a>, - <a href="#Page_485">485</a></li> - <li>Hogg, James (1770-1835), - <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Hood, Thomas (1799-1845), - <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, - <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, - <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, - <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, - <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, - <a href="#Page_583">583</a></li> - <li>Howe, Julia Ward (1819-1910), - <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - <li>Howitt, Mary (1799-1888), - <a href="#Page_94">94</a></li> - <li>Hudson, W. H. (1862-1923), - <a href="#Page_521">521</a></li> - <li>Hume, Alexander (1560?-1609), - <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li class="left">*John, Gwen, - <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Jonson, Ben (1573?-1637), - <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, - <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, - <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, - <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, - <a href="#Page_568">568</a>, - <a href="#Page_658">658</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li class="hangingindent">Keats, John (1795-1821), - <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, - <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, - <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, - <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, - <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, - <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, - <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, - <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, - <a href="#Page_527">527</a>, - <a href="#Page_545">545</a>, - <a href="#Page_660">660</a></li> - <li>Killigrew, Henry (1613-1700), - <a href="#Page_467">467</a></li> - <li>King, Henry (1592-1669), - <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> - <li>Kingsley, Charles (1819-1875), - <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, - <a href="#Page_656">656</a></li> - <li class="left">*Kipling, Rudyard, - <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> - <li>Kirk, Robert (1641?-1692), - <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Landor, Walter Savage (1775-1864), - <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, - <a href="#Page_597">597</a>, - <a href="#Page_604">604</a></li> - <li>Lindsay, Lady Anne (1750-1825), - <a href="#Page_362">362</a></li> - <li>Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth (1807-1882), - <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, - <a href="#Page_533">533</a></li> - <li>Lovelace, Sir Richard (1618-1658), - <a href="#Page_535">535</a></li> - <li>Lydgate, John (1370?-1451?), - <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, - <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - <li>Lyly, John (1554?-1606), - <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> - <li class="left">*Lysaght, Sidney Royse, - <a href="#Page_53">53</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>MacGillivray, W. (1796-1852), - <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Macleod, Fiona (William Sharp) (1855-1905), - <a href="#Page_423">423</a></li> - <li>Macneill, Hector (1746-1818), - <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> - <li>Mahony, Francis ("Father Prout") (1804-1866), - <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li> - <li>Mangan, James Clarence (1803-1849), - <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> - <li class="left">*Manning-Sanders, Ruth, - <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, - <a href="#Page_340">340</a></li> - <li>Maplet, John (d. 1592), - <a href="#Page_639">639</a></li> - <li>Marriot, John (1780-1825), - <a href="#Page_270">270</a></li> - <li>Marvell, Andrew (1621-1678), - <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, - <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, - <a href="#Page_381">381</a></li> - <li class="left">*Masefield, John, - <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, - <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> - <li>Mandeville, Sir John (d. 1372), - <a href="#Page_534">534</a>, - <a href="#Page_561">561</a>, - <a href="#Page_629">629</a></li> - <li>Meredith, George (1828-1909), - <a href="#Page_332">332</a>, - <a href="#Page_638">638</a></li> - <li class="left">*Mew, Charlotte, - <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Meyer, Kuno (Tr.), - <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, - <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, - <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, - <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, - <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, - <a href="#Page_585">585</a>, - <a href="#Page_667">667</a></li> - <li>Meynell, Alice (d. 1923) - <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, - <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, - <a href="#Page_472">472</a></li> - <li>Meynell, Viola, - <a href="#Page_409">409</a></li> - <li>Milton, John (1608-1674), - <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, - <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, - <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, - <a href="#Page_632">632</a></li> - <li class="left">*Monro, Harold, - <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, - <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> - <li>Montgomerie, Alexander (1556?-1610?), - <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> - <li class="left">*Moore, T. Sturge, - <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li> - <li>More, Sir Thomas (1478-1535), - <a href="#Page_603">603</a></li> - <li>Morris, William (1834-1896), - <a href="#Page_465">465</a>, - <a href="#Page_481">481</a></li> - <li>Munday, Anthony (1553-1633), - <a href="#Page_81">81</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Nash, Thomas (1567-1601), - <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, - <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> - <li class="left">*Newbolt, Sir Henry, - <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, - <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, - <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li> - <li>North, Sir Thomas (1535?-1601), - <a href="#Page_574">574</a></li> - <li class="left">*Noyes, Alfred, - <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Odoric, Friar (1286-1331), - <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, - <a href="#Page_641">641</a></li> - <li>O'Keefe, John (1747-1833), - <a href="#Page_579">579</a></li> - <li class="left">*O'Riordan, Conal, - <a href="#Page_605">605</a></li> - <li>*O'Sullivan, Seumas, - <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> - <li>Overbury, Sir Thomas (1581-1613), - <a href="#Page_529">529</a></li> - <li>Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918), - <a href="#Page_173">173</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Patmore, Coventry (1823-1896), - <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, - <a href="#Page_566">566</a></li> - <li class="left">*Patmore, F. J., - <a href="#Page_541">541</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Peacock, Thomas Love (1785-1866), - <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, - <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, - <a href="#Page_552">552</a></li> - <li>Pepys, Samuel (1633-1703), - <a href="#Page_505">505</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Poe, Edgar Allan (1809-1849), - <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, - <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, - <a href="#Page_338">338</a>, - <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, - <a href="#Page_662">662</a></li> - <li>Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), - <a href="#Page_271">271</a></li> - <li>Plotinus (205?-270?), - <a href="#Page_507">507</a></li> - <li>Polo, Marco (1254-1323), - <a href="#Page_642">642</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Raleigh, Sir Walter (1552?-1618), - <a href="#Page_600">600</a></li> - <li class="left">*Ramal, Elizabeth, - <a href="#Page_608">608</a></li> - <li>Ramsay, Allan (1686-1758), - <a href="#Page_623">623</a></li> - <li>Ravenscroft, Thomas (1592?-1635?), - <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> - <li class="left">*Reese, Lizette Woodworth, - <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li> - <li>Rhodes, Hugh (fl. 1555), - <a href="#Page_592">592</a></li> - <li class="left">*Rock, Madeline Caron, - <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Rossetti, Christina (1830-1894), - <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, - <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, - <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, - <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, - <a href="#Page_368">368</a>, - <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, - <a href="#Page_483">483</a>, - <a href="#Page_487">487</a></li> - <li>Rossetti, Dante Gabriel (1828-1882), - <a href="#Page_643">643</a></li> - <li>Rowlands, Richard (1565-1630?), - <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> - <li>Rowley, William (1585?-1642?), - <a href="#Page_374">374</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li class="left">*Sassoon, Siegfried, - <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> - <li>Scott, Reginald (1538?-1599), - <a href="#Page_613">613</a></li> - <li>Scott, Alexander (1525?-1584?), - <a href="#Page_360">360</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Scott, Sir Walter (1771-1832), - <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, - <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, - <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, - <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, - <a href="#Page_357">357</a></li> - <li>Scott, William Bell (1811-1890), - <a href="#Page_324">324</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Shakespeare, William (1564-1616), - <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, - <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, - <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, - <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, - <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, - <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, - <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, - <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, - <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, - <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, - <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, - <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, - <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, - <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, - <a href="#Page_505">505</a>, - <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, - <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, - <a href="#Page_522">522</a>, - <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, - <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, - <a href="#Page_540">540</a>, - <a href="#Page_553">553</a>, - <a href="#Page_554">554</a>, - <a href="#Page_579">579</a>, - <a href="#Page_585">585</a>, - <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, - <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, - <a href="#Page_643">643</a>, - <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, - <a href="#Page_655">655</a>, - <a href="#Page_657">657</a>, - <a href="#Page_662">662</a>, - <a href="#Page_667">667</a></li> - <li class="left">*Shanks, Edward, - <a href="#Page_331">331</a></li> - <li>Sharp, William (Fiona Macleod) (1855-1905), - <a href="#Page_423">423</a></li> - <li class="left">*Sheldon, Gilbert, - <a href="#Page_404">404</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822), - <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, - <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, - <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, - <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, - <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, - <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, - <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, - <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, - <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, - <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, - <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, - <a href="#Page_404">404</a>, - <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, - <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, - <a href="#Page_530">530</a>, - <a href="#Page_542">542</a>, - <a href="#Page_546">546</a>, - <a href="#Page_621">621</a></li> - <li>Shorter, Dora Sigerson (d. 1918), - <a href="#Page_275">275</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Sidney, Sir Philip (1554-1586), - <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, - <a href="#Page_463">463</a>, - <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, - <a href="#Page_597">597</a>, - <a href="#Page_601">601</a>, - <a href="#Page_602">602</a></li> - <li class="left">*Sitwell, Edith, - <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> - <li>Skelton, John (1460?-1529), - <a href="#Page_37">37</a></li> - <li>*Sleigh, Bernard, - <a href="#Page_549">549</a></li> - <li>Southwell, Robert (1561?-1595), - <a href="#Page_242">242</a>, - <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Spenser, Edmund (1552?-1599), - <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, - <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, - <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, - <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, - <a href="#Page_567">567</a></li> - <li class="left">*Squire, J. C., - <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, - <a href="#Page_422">422</a></li> - <li>Steele, Sir Richard (1672-1729), - <a href="#Page_519">519</a></li> - <li>*Stephens, James, - <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, - <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, - <a href="#Page_157">157</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850-1894), - <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, - <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, - <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, - <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, - <a href="#Page_615">615</a></li> - <li>Suckling, Sir John (1609-1642), - <a href="#Page_580">580</a></li> - <li>Surrey, Earl of (1517?-1547), - <a href="#Page_472">472</a></li> - <li>Swinburne, Algernon Charles (1837-1909), - <a href="#Page_358">358</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Temple, Sir William (1628-1699), - <a href="#Page_578">578</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Tennyson, Alfred, Lord (1809-1892), - <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, - <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, - <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, - <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, - <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, - <a href="#Page_582">582</a>, - <a href="#Page_630">630</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Thomas, Edward (1878-1917), - <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, - <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, - <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, - <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, - <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, - <a href="#Page_521">521</a>, - <a href="#Page_557">557</a></li> - <li>Thomas the Rhymer (1220?-1297?), - <a href="#Page_550">550</a></li> - <li>Thompson, Francis (1859-1907), - <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, - <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, - <a href="#Page_637">637</a></li> - <li>Thomson, James (1700-1748), - <a href="#Page_665">665</a></li> - <li class="left">*Tomlinson, H. M., - <a href="#Page_569">569</a></li> - <li>Topsell (d. 1638?), - <a href="#Page_537">537</a></li> - <li>Traherne, Thomas (1636?-1674), - <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, - <a href="#Page_564">564</a></li> - <li>Trench, Herbert (1865-1923), - <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> - <li>Trevisa, John de (1326-1412), - <a href="#Page_537">537</a></li> - <li>Turberville, George (1540?-1610?), - <a href="#Page_584">584</a></li> - <li class="left">*Turner, Walter J., - <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, - <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, - <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li> - <li>*Tynan, Katharine, - <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Vaughan, Henry (1622-1695), - <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, - <a href="#Page_557">557</a></li> - <li>Vautor, Thomas (fl. 1619), - <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li>Walton, Izaac (1593-1683), - <a href="#Page_505">505</a>, - <a href="#Page_543">543</a></li> - <li>Watts, Isaac (1674-1748), - <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> - <li class="left">*Webb, Mary, - <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, - <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, - <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li> - <li>Webster, John (1610-1682), - <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, - <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, - <a href="#Page_268">268</a></li> - <li>Wedderburn, John (1500?-1556), - <a href="#Page_597">597</a></li> - <li>Whitman, Walt (1819-1892), - <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> - <li>Wither, George (1588-1667), - <a href="#Page_202">202</a></li> - <li class="left">*Woods, Margaret L., - <a href="#Page_539">539</a></li> - <li>Wordsworth, Dorothy (1771-1855), - <a href="#Page_220">220</a></li> - <li class="hangingindent">Wordsworth, William (1770-1850), - <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, - <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, - <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, - <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, - <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, - <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, - <a href="#Page_655">655</a></li> - <li>Wotton, Sir Henry (1568-1639), - <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> - <li class="left">*Wright, Elizabeth M., - <a href="#Page_532">532</a>, - <a href="#Page_559">559</a></li> - <li class="left">*Wylie, Elinor, - <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li> -</ul> - -<ul> - <li class="left">*Yeats, W. B., - <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, - <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, - <a href="#Page_608">608</a></li> - <li class="left">*Young, Filson, - <a href="#Page_632">632</a></li> - <li class="left">*Young, Francis Brett, - <a href="#Page_92">92</a></li> -</ul> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_683" id="Page_683">[683]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX_OF_POEMS" id="INDEX_OF_POEMS">INDEX OF POEMS</a></h2> - -<p>[<i>An asterisk denotes that the name of the author of the poem is -unknown.</i>]</p> - -<table summary="poems"> - <tr> - <th class="poems"></th> - <th class="poems">TEXT</th> - <th class="poems">NOTES</th> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Adam lay i-bowndyn</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_489">489</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Adieu! farewell earth's bliss!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_596"><i>596</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*A dis, a dis, a green grass</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">After the blast of lightning from the east</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Afterwards</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_455">455</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ah! sad wer we as we did peäce</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_604"><i>604</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ah, what avails the sceptred race?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Alas, the moon should ever beam</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Alice, dear, what ails you?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">A little lonely child am I</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_423">423</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_645"><i>645</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">A little Saint best fits a little Shrine</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_510">510</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*All in this pleasant evening, together come are we</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_501"><i>501</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">All looks be pale, hearts cold as stone</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_574"><i>574</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">All my stars forsake me</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_464">464</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">All the flowers of the spring</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_599"><i>599</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*All under the leaves and the leaves of life</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_489">489</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Amo, amas</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_579">579</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*An' Charlie he's my darling </td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ancient Mariner, The Rime of the</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_383">383</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">And as for me, thogh that I can but lyte</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_502"><i>502</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">And in the midst of all, a fountaine stood</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_564"><i>564</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">And like a dying lady, lean and pale</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_464">464</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">And now all nature seemed in love</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_504"><i>504</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">And then I pressed the shell</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">And there were spring-faced cherubs that did sleep</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_408">408</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_643"><i>643</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Angel spirits of sleep</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_475">475</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Annabel Lee</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Annan Water's wading deep</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_614"><i>614</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">A piper in the streets to-day</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Are they shadows that we see?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">A Rose, as fair as ever saw the North </td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Art thou gone in haste?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_374">374</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_629"><i>629</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">As I in hoary winter's night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">As it fell upon a day</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_543"><i>543</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*As I walked out one night </td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_571">571</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*As I was going by Charing Cross</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*As I was walking all alane</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*As I was wa'king all alone </td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">As I wer readen ov a stwone</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_605"><i>605</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ask me no more</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_562"><i>562</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*A sparhawk proud did hold in wicked jail</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_543"><i>543</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">A sunny shaft did I behold</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_373">373</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_628"><i>628</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*As we dance round a-ring-a-ring</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">At common dawn there is a voice of bird</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_369">369</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">At the corner of Wood Street</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_540"><i>540</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Auld Robin Gray</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_362">362</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Autumn</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*A vision that appeared to me</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_527"><i>527</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Awake, awake, my little Boy!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_477">477</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_605"><i>605</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">A weary lot is thine, fair maid</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">A widow bird sat mourning for her love</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*A wife was sitting at her reel ae night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_618">618</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Ay me, alas, heigh ho, heigh ho!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_534"><i>534</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Before my face the picture hangs</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_594"><i>594</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Behold her, single in the field</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Bells have wide mouths and tongues</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_582"><i>582</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Beneath our feet, the shuddering bogs</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_610"><i>610</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Bermudas</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_381">381</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Best and brightest, come away!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Be thou at peace this night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Bingo</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Birds, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Blow, blow, thou winter winde</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Blows the wind to-day</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_522"><i>522</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Bonny Barbara Allan</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_356">356</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Break, break, break</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Brief, on a flying night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Bright star, would I were stedfast</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_660">660</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Bring us in good ale</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Bring us in no browne bred</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_526"><i>526</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Brown Robyn</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_420">420</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Buckee, Buckee, biddy Bene</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Burning Babe, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">By Saint Mary, my lady</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_518"><i>518</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">By the Moone we sport and play</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_547"><i>547</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Call me no more, O gentle stream</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Cam' ye by the salmon fishers? </td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Cauld blows the wind frae north to south</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Changeling, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_309">309</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Cherrie Ripe, Ripe, Ripe, I cry</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Cherry and pear are white</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Child and the Mariner, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_402">402</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Chimney Sweeper, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Christabel</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_335">335</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Christmas at Sea</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Christ of His gentleness</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Cities drowned in olden time</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Close thine eyes and sleep secure</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_467">467</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Cold cold!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_586"><i>586</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Cold in the earth</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Come, Sleep</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_605">605</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Come to me, grief, for ever</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_601"><i>601</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Come to me in the silence of the night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_472">472</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Come unto these yellow sands</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_546"><i>546</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Come wary one, come slender feet</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_544"><i>544</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Coronach, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Crystal Cabinet, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_373">373</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtlefttop">*Dalyaunce</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Dark is the stair, and humid the old walls</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Dear, dear, dear</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Dear God, through Thy all-powerful hand</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_605">605</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Death stands above me</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_597">597</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Departe, departe, departe</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_360">360</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_627"><i>627</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Dew sate on Julia's haire</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_651">651</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_351">351</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_624"><i>624</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Does the road wind up-hill all the way?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_483">483</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_666"><i>666</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Down in yonder meadow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Down in yon garden</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_647">647</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Do you remember an Inn</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_580"><i>580</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Dreams, The Land of</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_477">477</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so gray?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_556"><i>556</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Eagle, The</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Earl of Mar's Daughter, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Easter</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Edward</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_430">430</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Egypt's might is tumbled down</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_367">367</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Encinctured with a twine of leaves</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_337">337</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*English Gentleman, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Eve of Saint Mark, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_468">468</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Even such is Time</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_600">600</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Eve, with her basket</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_485">485</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtlefttop">*Faht's in there?</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_607"><i>607</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Fair Annie</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_434">434</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Fairies</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Fairies Feast, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Feare no more the heate o' th' Sun</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_599"><i>599</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Fine knacks for ladies!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Flowers of the Forest, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_482">482</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Four and twenty bonny boys</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_428">428</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_646"><i>646</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Four men stood by the grave of a man</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_574"><i>574</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">From noise of Scare-fires rest ye free</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Full fathom five</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_643">643</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Gane were but the winter cauld</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_587"><i>587</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Garden, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Garden, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_492">492</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_549"><i>549</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Gilderoy was a bonnie boy</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_532"><i>532</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Golden slumbers kiss your eyes</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_605"><i>605</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Golden Vanity, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_418">418</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Gone were but the Winter</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Good-Morrow to the Day so fair</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Green Broom</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Hallo my Fancy</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_376">376</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Hame, hame, hame, hame, fain wad I be</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Hark! now everything is still</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_597"><i>597</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Haunted Palace, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_338">338</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Hay, nou the day dauis</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_497"><i>497</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heaven's gate sings</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">He came and took me by the hand</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">He clasps the crag with crooked hands</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">He gave us all a good-bye cheerily</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">He is gone on the mountain</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">He is the lonely greatness of the world</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_598"><i>598</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Helen of Kirkconnell</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_438">438</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Helen, thy beauty is to me</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_627"><i>627</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Here a little child I stand</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_507">507</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Here comes a lusty wooer</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_346">346</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_622"><i>622</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Here lies a little bird</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Here lies sweet Isabell</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_652">652</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Here she lies, a pretty bud</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_604"><i>604</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Here she was wont to go, and here, and here!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_624"><i>624</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Here we bring new water</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Here we come a piping</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Here where the fields lie lonely and untended</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Her Eyes the Glow-worme lend thee</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">He sees them pass</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_594"><i>594</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*He that lies at the stock</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_466">466</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Hey, nonny no!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_580"><i>580</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Hey! now the day dawns</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_497"><i>497</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Hey, Wully wine, and How, Wully wine</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_348">348</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_623"><i>623</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Hie upon Hielands</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_519"><i>519</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">His eyes are quickened so with grief</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_407">407</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">His stature was not very tall</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_503">503</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Hohenlinden</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Holy Thursday</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Home, home, from the horizon far and clear</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_472">472</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ho, sailor of the sea!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">How like an Angel came I down!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_454"><i>454</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">How lovely is the sound of oars at night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">How many times do I love thee, dear?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_624">624</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">How see you Echo?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">How should I your true love know</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_361">361</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">How strange it is to wake and watch</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_473">473</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">How sweet I roamed from field to field!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Hugh, Sir</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_428">428</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtlefttop">*I and my white Pangur</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_536"><i>536</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I'd a dream to-night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_606"><i>606</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I'd oft heard tell of this Sledburn fair</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_499"><i>499</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I dreamt a Dream! what can it mean?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_475">475</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I dug, beneath the cypress shade</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">If I had but two little wings</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_510"><i>510</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">If I should ever by chance grow rich</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_521">521</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I found her out there</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_604"><i>604</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">If souls should only shine as bright</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_594">594</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">If there were dreams to sell</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_449">449</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I got me flowers to straw thy way</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_506"><i>506</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I had a dove and the sweet dove died</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I had a little bird</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_519"><i>519</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I had a little nut tree</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I have a yong suster</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I have beene all day looking after</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_319">319</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_610"><i>610</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I have seen old ships sail like swans asleep</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_382">382</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_635"><i>635</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I have twelfe oxen that be faire and brown</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_559"><i>559</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I hear a sudden cry of pain!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I heard a soldier sing some trifle</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_568"><i>568</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I know a little garden-close</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_481">481</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I know that all beneath the moon decays</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_585">585</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I'll sing you a good old song</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_525"><i>525</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I Loved a lass, a fair one</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_580"><i>580</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I love to rise in a summer morn</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I met a traveller from an antique land</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_404">404</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I met the Love-Talker one eve in the glen</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Immortal Imogen crowned queen above</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">In a drear-nighted December</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_585"><i>585</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I never shall love the snow again</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_562">562</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">In melancholic fancy</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_376">376</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_629"><i>629</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">In somer when the shawes be sheyne</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_556"><i>556</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">In the greenest of our valleys</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_338">338</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_621"><i>621</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">In the third-class seat sat the journeying-boy</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">In the wild October night-time</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_570"><i>570</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Into the scented woods we'll go</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Invitation to Jane, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">In Xanadu did Kubla Khan</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_405">405</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_641"><i>641</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I remember, I remember</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_511"><i>511</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Irish harper and his dog, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I saw a frieze on whitest marble drawn</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_408">408</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_643"><i>643</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I saw a peacock with a fiery tail</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_607"><i>607</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I saw with open eyes</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I see in his last preached and printed Booke</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_602"><i>602</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I sing of a maiden</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_510"><i>510</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*It fell upon a Wodensday</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_420">420</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_644"><i>644</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">It is an ancient Mariner</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_383">383</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_635"><i>635</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">It was a' for our rightfu' king</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*It was a jolly bed in sooth</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_501">501</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">It was a Lover and his lasse</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_579"><i>579</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*It was in and about the Martinmas time</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_356">356</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_626"><i>626</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*It was intill a pleasant time</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">It was many and many a year ago</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_523"><i>523</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">It was not in the winter</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_361">361</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_573"><i>573</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I went out to the hazel wood</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_296">296</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_608"><i>608</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I will sing, if ye will hearken</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_432">432</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_646"><i>646</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*I wish I were where Helen lies</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_438">438</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">I would not be the Moon, the sickly thing</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_463">463</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_659"><i>659</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Jarring the air with rumour cool</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">John Peel</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Keith of Ravelston</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Kubla Khan</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_405">405</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">La Belle Dame sans Merci</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I were</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_472">472</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Laird of Logie, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_432">432</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_560"><i>560</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Lawne as white as driven Snow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_529"><i>529</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Lay a garland on my hearse</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_360">360</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Leave Taking, A</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_358">358</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Leave me, O Love</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_597">597</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Let us go hence, my songs</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_358">358</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Let us walk in the white snow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_587"><i>587</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Life of Life</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_353">353</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_625"><i>625</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Light the lamps up, Lamplighter</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_459">459</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_657"><i>657</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Little Black Boy, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Little Fly</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_535">535</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Little Lamb, who made thee?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*London Bridge is broken down</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_524"><i>524</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">London Snow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Lonely, save for a few faint stars, the sky</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_575"><i>575</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Long ago I went to Rome</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_563">563</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Look how the pale Queen of the silent night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_354">354</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_625"><i>625</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Lord Rameses of Egypt sighed</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_593"><i>593</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_483">483</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Love me not for comely grace</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_366">366</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Lucy Gray</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Lully, lullay, lully, lullay</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_491">491</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Lydia is gone this many a year</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Lyke-Wake Dirge, A</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Mad Maid's Song, The</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Mariana</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_314">314</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Mary's gone a milking</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_529"><i>529</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_466">466</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_661"><i>661</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*May Song</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Mermaid, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_423">423</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Messmates</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Midnight was come, when every vital thing</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Mine eyes have seen the glory</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_567"><i>567</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Mortality, behold and fear!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_600"><i>600</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Much have I travelled in the realms of gold</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Music, when soft voices die</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_582"><i>582</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*My clothing was once of the linsey woolsey fine</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_533"><i>533</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*My hand is weary with writing</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_558">558</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">My heart is like a singing bird</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_624"><i>624</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*My love he built me a bonnie bower</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_439">439</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_647"><i>647</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">My love lies in the gates of foam</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_364">364</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*My Luve's in Germany</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">My master hath a garden</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_492">492</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*My mistress frowns when she should play</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_576"><i>576</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*My mistress is as fair as fine</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_351">351</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">My mother bore me in the southern wild</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*My plaid awa', my plaid awa'</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">My true-love hath my heart, and I have his</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtlefttop">*Nay, Ivy, nay</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_590"><i>590</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Night-Piece, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Not full twelve years</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_596">596</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Not soon shall I forget</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Now milkmaids' pails are deckt with flowers</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_528"><i>528</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Now some may drink old vintage wine</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_581"><i>581</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_500"><i>500</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Now the hungry Lyon rores</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_553"><i>553</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Now wolde I faine some merthės make</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_366">366</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_628"><i>628</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Nurse's Song, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_453">453</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Nymph Complaining, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtlefttop">*O Allison Gross, that lives in yon towr</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_426">426</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_646"><i>646</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_523">523</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ode to the West Wind</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O'Driscoll drove with a song</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Of all the birds that I do know</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_538"><i>538</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*O for a Booke and a shadie nooke</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_558"><i>558</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Of this fair volume which we World do name</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_565"><i>565</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Oh! call my brother back to me</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Oh! dear! what can the matter be?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_530"><i>530</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Oh! poverty is a weary thing</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_536"><i>536</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Oh, sweet content</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Oh the falling Snow!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Oh, where are you going to, my pretty little dear?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_581"><i>581</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O, I hae come from far away</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_324">324</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_613"><i>613</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Old Ships, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_382">382</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O many a day have I made good ale in the glen</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_354">354</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O Mary, go and call the cattle home</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O Mother, lay your hand on my brow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O my dark Rosaleen</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_572"><i>572</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_332">332</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Once a dream did weave a shade</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_476">476</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_665"><i>665</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Once I was a monarch's daughter</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Once musing as I sat</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_535"><i>535</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Once upon a midnight dreary</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_611"><i>611</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Once when the sun of the year was beginning to fall</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_512"><i>512</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*One Friday morn when we set sail</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_421">421</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*One king's daughter said to anither</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_523"><i>523</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">One without looks in to-night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_608"><i>608</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">On first looking into Chapman's Homer</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">On Linden, when the sun was low</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*On the first day of Christmas</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_589">589</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">On the green banks of Shannon</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O sing unto my roundelay</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O Sorrow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O that those lips had language!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O the evening's for the fair, bonny lassie O!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O Thou, who plumed with strong desire</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_621"><i>621</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O, to have a little house</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Our King and Queen the Lord God Blesse</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_568">568</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Our King went up upon a hill high</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_574"><i>574</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Out in the dark over the snow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_474">474</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Over the bleak and barren snow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*O whare are ye gaun?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_618"><i>618</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O, what can ail thee, knight at arms</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_355">355</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*O wha will shoe my bonny foot?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_519">519</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*O where were ye, my milk-white steed</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_309">309</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_609"><i>609</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">O, wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Oh yes, my dear</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_565">565</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day!</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Pedlar's Song, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Pleasure it is</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_507"><i>507</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Poacher, The Lincolnshire</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Poor old Horse</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Prayer unsaid, and Mass unsung</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Prepare, prepare the iron helm of War</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Proud Maisie is in the wood</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_357">357</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Queen and huntress, chaste and fair</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_462">462</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Queen of Elfland, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Question, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Quo' the Tweed to the Till</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_425">425</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Quoth John to Joan</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_350">350</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_623"><i>623</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Rarely, rarely, comest thou</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Raven, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Recollection, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Remember me when I am gone away</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Remember us poor Mayers all </td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Reverie of Poor Susan, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Rich in the waning light she sat</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Riding through Ruwu swamp, about sunrise</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_536"><i>536</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Rosaleen, Dark</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Rose Aylmer</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Rosy apple, lemon, or pear</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_516"><i>516</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Round about, round about</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Sabrina fair</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_551"><i>551</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sands of Dee, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Schoolboy, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Seamen, three! What men be ye?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_583"><i>583</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Secret was the garden</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Seven lang years I hae served the King</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_347">347</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Seynt Stevene was a clerk</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_587"><i>587</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Shed no tear—O shed no tear!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*She is so proper and so pure</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_518"><i>518</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Shepherds all, and Maidens fair</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_457">457</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_655"><i>655</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_450">450</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_651"><i>651</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Shy in their herding dwell the fallow deer</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sick Child, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Silent are the woods</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Silent is the house, all are laid asleep</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Silly Sweetheart, say not nay</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_345">345</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Sir Patrick Spence</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_425">425</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Sister, awake! close not your eyes</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_501"><i>501</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Skip it and trip it</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_575">575</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sleep on, my Love, in thy cold bed</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_592"><i>592</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sluggard, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Soldiers, For</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Solitary Reaper, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Some folks as can afford</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Somewhere, somewhen I've seen</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_403">403</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_639"><i>639</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sorrow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">So through the darkness and the cold we flew</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">So, we'll go no more a-roving</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_464">464</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sparrow, The Dead</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_503"><i>503</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Stepping Westward</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_456">456</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Stop, Christian passer-by!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_604"><i>604</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Stupidity Street</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Swans, The Two</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sweet bird that shunn'st the noise of folly</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sweet Content</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_451">451</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_518"><i>518</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Sweet Suffolk Owl, so trimly dight</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_540"><i>540</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Sweet William and May Margaret</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_443">443</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Swiftly walk o'er the western wave</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_458">458</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Tell me not of joy</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_538"><i>538</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Tell me where is fancie bred</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">That houses forme within was rude and strong</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">That wind, I used to hear it swelling</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The aïr to gi'e your cheäks a hue</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_581">581</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The ample heaven of fabrik sure</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_557"><i>557</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The cheerful arn he blaws in the marn</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The cleanly rush of the mountain air</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The clouds have left the sky</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_462">462</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The crooked paths go every way</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The days are cold, the nights are long</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_583"><i>583</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The Door of Death</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_666">666</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The Dragon that our Seas did raise his Crest</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_573"><i>573</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The evening sun was sinking down</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_449">449</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The feathers of the willow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The fort over against the oak-wood</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_575"><i>575</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The four sails of the mill</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_556"><i>556</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The fresh air moves like water round a boat</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The gipsies lit their fires by the chalk-pit gate anew</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The heaving roses of the hedge are stirred</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The Holly and the Ivy</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_589"><i>589</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The hunt is up, the hunt is up</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_555"><i>555</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The King of China's daughter</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The king sits in Dumferling toune</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_425">425</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_645"><i>645</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The king's young dochter</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_576">576</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The lake lay blue below the hill</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_542"><i>542</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The lark now leaves his watery nest</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_498"><i>498</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The love that I hae chosen</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_363">363</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The maiden caught me in the wild</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_373">373</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The man of life upright</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_595">595</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The miller's mill-dog lay at the mill-door</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_533"><i>533</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The moon's my constant mistress</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_606"><i>606</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The murmur of the mourning ghost</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The myrtle bush grew shady</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The night will never stay</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_465">465</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The poplars are felled; farewell to the shade</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_520"><i>520</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There came a bird out o a bush</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_649">649</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There came a ghost to Margret's door</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_443">443</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_650"><i>650</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There cam' Seven Egyptians on a day</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_531">531</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The red flame flowers bloom and die</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_474">474</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_664"><i>664</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">There grew a goodly tree him faire beside</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_491">491</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">There is a Garden in her face</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_561"><i>561</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There is a Lady sweet and kind</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_366">366</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_628"><i>628</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">There is a silence where hath been no sound</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_405">405</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_641"><i>641</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The reivers they stole Fair Annie</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_434">434</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_646"><i>646</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There lived a wife at Usher's Well</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_445">445</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_651"><i>651</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">There's no smoke in the chimney</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There was a gallant ship and a gallant ship was she</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_418">418</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_644"><i>644</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There was a knicht riding frae the east</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_333">333</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_615"><i>615</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">There was an Indian, who had known no change</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_379">379</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_631"><i>631</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There was an old man lived out in the wood</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">There was no song nor shout of joy</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_422">422</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There were three gipsies a-come to my door</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_531"><i>531</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There were twa brethren in the north</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_523"><i>523</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*There were twa sisters sat in a bowr</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_441">441</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_649"><i>649</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The sea would flow no longer</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_409">409</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">These hearts were woven of human joys and cares</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_568"><i>568</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The sheets were frozen hard</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The smothering dark engulfs relentlessly</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The snow falls deep; the forest lies alone</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The snow had fallen many nights and days</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_410">410</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The splendour falls on castle walls</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The sun descending in the west</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_452">452</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The Sun does arise</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The trees of the elder lands</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_404">404</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_640"><i>640</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The twilight is sad and cloudy</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The wanton Troopers riding by</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_538"><i>538</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*The wind doth blow to-day, my love</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_359">359</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_626"><i>626</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">The wind's on the wold</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_465">465</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_660"><i>660</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">They are all gone into the world of light!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">They shut the road through the woods</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">They stole her from the well</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_549">549</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*This ae nighte, this ae nighte</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_598"><i>598</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">This city and this country</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_525"><i>525</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*This is the Key of the Kingdom</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_497"><i>497</i></a><br /> - <a href="#Page_667"><i>667</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">This is the weather the cuckoo likes</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">This Life, which seems so fair</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_592"><i>592</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">This sailor knows of wondrous lands afar</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_402">402</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_638"><i>638</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Thou Fair-haired Angel of the Evening</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_450">450</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Though three men dwell on Flannan Isle</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_415">415</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Thou hast come from the old city</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Thou simple Bird what mak'st thou here to play?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Time, you old gipsy man</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_454">454</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">'Tis the middle of night</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_335">335</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_620"><i>620</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">'Tis the voice of a sluggard; I heard him complain</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_498"><i>498</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">To-day a rude brief recitative</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_571"><i>571</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Toll no bell for me, dear Father, dear Mother</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_309">309</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_609"><i>609</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Tom o' Bedlam</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Tom Pearse, Tom Pearse, lend me your gray mare</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_531"><i>531</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">To sea, to sea! The calm is o'er</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_632"><i>632</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*To yon fause stream</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_423">423</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Trafalgar</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_550"><i>550</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Turnstile, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Twa Corbies, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Twa Sisters, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_441">441</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">'Twas on a Holy Thursday</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Two Swans, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Tyger! Tyger! burning bright</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_538"><i>538</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Underneath an old oak tree</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_611">611</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Under the after-sunset sky</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Under the greenewood tree</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Upon a dark ball spun in Time</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Upon a Sabbath-day it fell</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_468">468</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_663"><i>663</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Upon my lap my sovereign sits</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Up the airy mountain</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_548"><i>548</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtlefttop">*Wae's me, wae's me</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_332">332</a></td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_615"><i>615</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Wake, all the dead!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_596">596</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">War Song, A</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Was it the sound of a footfall I heard?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_608">608</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Waterfowl, To a</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Water Lady, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*We are three Brethren come from Spain</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_346">346</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">We be the King's men, hale and hearty</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_570"><i>570</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_440">440</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Weep, weep, ye woodmen!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_532"><i>532</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Weep you no more, sad fountain</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Wee Wee Man, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Welcome, fayre chylde, what is thy name?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_512"><i>512</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">We wandered to the Pine Forest</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">We were young, we were merry</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_516"><i>516</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What bird so sings, yet so does wail?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_503"><i>503</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What, hast thou run thy Race? Art going down?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_451">451</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_652"><i>652</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What if some little paine the passage have</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What is there hid in the heart of a rose</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_561"><i>561</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What is this life if, full of care</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What noise of viols is so sweet</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What shall I your true-love tell</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_596"><i>596</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What wondrous life is this I lead!</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">What, you are stepping westward?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_456">456</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_655"><i>655</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When cats run home and light is come</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_541"><i>541</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When I am dead, my dearest</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_605"><i>605</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When I crept over the hill, broken with tears</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When I did wake this morn from sleep</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When I sailed out of Baltimore</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When Isicles hang by the wall</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_591"><i>591</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*When I was bound apprentice</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When I was but thirteen or so</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_629"><i>629</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When men were all asleep the snow came flying</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_586"><i>586</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When my mother died I was very young</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When night is o'er the wood</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_541">541</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When once the sun sinks in the west</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_454">454</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When she sleeps</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When that I was and a little tinie boy</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_584"><i>584</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When the cock begins to crow</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_553">553</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_576"><i>576</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When the lamp is shattered</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When the Present has latched its postern</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_455">455</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_653"><i>653</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When these old woods were young</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_521"><i>521</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When the sheep are in the fauld</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_362">362</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When the voices of children are heard on the green</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_453">453</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_652"><i>652</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When the words rustle no more</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">When we lay where Budmouth Beach is</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_570"><i>570</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where are you going, Master mine?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_355">355</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where are your Oranges?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_569"><i>569</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where do the gipsies come from?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_532"><i>532</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where on the wrinkled stream the willows lean</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_542"><i>542</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where shall the lover rest</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where the Bee sucks, there suck I</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where the pools are bright and deep</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where the remote Bermudas ride</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_381">381</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_633"><i>633</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Where thou dwellest, in what Grove</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">While I sit at the door</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_487">487</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_666"><i>666</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">While Morpheus thus does gently lay</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_467">467</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_663"><i>663</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Whither, midst falling dew?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Who calls? Who calls? Who?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_548"><i>548</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Who can live in heart so glad</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Who feasts tonight?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_554"><i>554</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Who'll walk the fields with us to town?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Who's at my window?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_597">597</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Whose Woods these are I think I know</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_587">587</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Who—Who—the bride will be?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Why does your brand so drop wi' blood</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_430">430</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_646"><i>646</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Widdecombe Fair</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Wife of Usher's Well, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_445">445</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Will you come?</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_460">460</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Witch's Ballad, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_324">324</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">With blackest moss the flower-plots</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_314">314</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_609"><i>609</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">With deep affection and recollection</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_582"><i>582</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">With how sad steps, O Moon</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_463">463</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Wolcum be thu, hevene kyng</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_589"><i>589</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">World of Light, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Wraggle Taggle Gipsies, The</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Wull ye come in eärly Spring</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_461">461</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chttop">Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon</td> - <td class="chntop"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> - <td class="chntop"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ye buds of Brutus' land, courageous youths</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_566"><i>566</i></a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Ye have been fresh and green</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Yes, I remember Adlestrop</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="chtleft">*Yet if His Majesty our sovereign lord</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_484">484</a></td> - <td class="chn"></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="cht">Young Love lies sleeping</td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_368">368</a></td> - <td class="chn"><a href="#Page_628"><i>628</i></a></td> - </tr> -</table> - - -<p class="center p-left xs p6">PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD.</p> - -<p class="center p-left xs">THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, GLASGOW</p> - - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Hedgehogs</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Starling</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Know but little</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Give</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Birds</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Such</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Sorrow</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Run quickly, hasten away</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Float</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Whips, mills, or beats</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Refresh; make sweet</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Truly, in sooth</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Mateless and matchless</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Chose</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Keep</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Young</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Call</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Heedlessness</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Natural</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Nimbly</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Stick out</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Squiggle</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Toy or trap</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> More</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Make grimaces</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Falsehood</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Learning</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Yea, sirs</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Air, tune, stave</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Willow rind</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Pears</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Feast or fast</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Gown or coat-tail</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Where</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Going</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Who's</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> From</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Dale or hollow</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Knoll or hillock</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> Goods and chattels</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> If</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Clothes</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> Sweet-smelling</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> Cat-mint</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> Gillyflower</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> Empty</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> Weeping</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Every</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> Stole</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> Had been</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> Wrestle</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> If</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> Must not</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> Dare not</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> Dug. delved</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> Her death-throes</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> Bran</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Hairs</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> Yeast</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> Duck's</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> Bracken</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> To</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> Such two</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> Scarce</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> Makes</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> If</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> Safely</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> Lustily</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> <i>Cave!</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Pretty dear</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> Green-walled ditch</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> Thatch: mend</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> Briar: wild-wood</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> Distaff</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> When the woods are fresh and fair</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> It</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> Small birds'</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> Polished</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> Which soon</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> O'er meadow, moor and stream</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> Herbs, wild flowers</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> Stir</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> A bank between ploughlands</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> More</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> Preens</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> Stay</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> Might</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> This</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> Risk, hazard, dare.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> Dainty; luxurious.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> Dirge, lament</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> Vast hill-hollow</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> Danger or defeat</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> When the half-muffled City Bells rang in commemoration of -the Bell-Ringers who fell in the war, the bells of St. Clement Danes -could not take part owing to a defect in the framework.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> For a moment</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> Game</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> Cowering</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> Glen</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> Wee bit lassikin</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> No linnets</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> Freezing</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> Worse</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> Burn</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> Him</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> Together</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Loved</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> Are here</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> Custom</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> Chilblain</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> Forester</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> Them</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Hast thou</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> Cries</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Skim</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> Apples</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> Once</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_117_117" id="Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> Locks</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_118_118" id="Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> Skin</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_119_119" id="Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> Set</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_120_120" id="Footnote_120_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> Grow</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_121_121" id="Footnote_121_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> Elf</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_122_122" id="Footnote_122_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> Made one</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_123_123" id="Footnote_123_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_123_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> May</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_124_124" id="Footnote_124_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_124_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> Where's</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_125_125" id="Footnote_125_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> Dove</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_126_126" id="Footnote_126_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_126_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> Trappings</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_127_127" id="Footnote_127_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> Make</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_128_128" id="Footnote_128_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_128_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> Hold</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_129_129" id="Footnote_129_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_129_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> Bought</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_130_130" id="Footnote_130_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_130_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> The green margin of a river</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_131_131" id="Footnote_131_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> Wild and lively</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_132_132" id="Footnote_132_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_132_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> Furious</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_133_133" id="Footnote_133_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_133_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> Carousers</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_134_134" id="Footnote_134_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_134_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> Brawling</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_135_135" id="Footnote_135_135"></a><a href="#FNanchor_135_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> Cobbler</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_136_136" id="Footnote_136_136"></a><a href="#FNanchor_136_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> Spellbound</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_137_137" id="Footnote_137_137"></a><a href="#FNanchor_137_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> Chose</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_138_138" id="Footnote_138_138"></a><a href="#FNanchor_138_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> Witching</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_139_139" id="Footnote_139_139"></a><a href="#FNanchor_139_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> Dust: reek</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_140_140" id="Footnote_140_140"></a><a href="#FNanchor_140_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> Road</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_141_141" id="Footnote_141_141"></a><a href="#FNanchor_141_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> Nearest</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_142_142" id="Footnote_142_142"></a><a href="#FNanchor_142_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> Dove</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_143_143" id="Footnote_143_143"></a><a href="#FNanchor_143_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> Asked</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_144_144" id="Footnote_144_144"></a><a href="#FNanchor_144_144"><span class="label">[144]</span></a> Ere</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_145_145" id="Footnote_145_145"></a><a href="#FNanchor_145_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> Bold</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_146_146" id="Footnote_146_146"></a><a href="#FNanchor_146_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> Than</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_147_147" id="Footnote_147_147"></a><a href="#FNanchor_147_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> Worse</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_148_148" id="Footnote_148_148"></a><a href="#FNanchor_148_148"><span class="label">[148]</span></a> Why, sure</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_149_149" id="Footnote_149_149"></a><a href="#FNanchor_149_149"><span class="label">[149]</span></a> Peat for school fire</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_150_150" id="Footnote_150_150"></a><a href="#FNanchor_150_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> Who owns</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_151_151" id="Footnote_151_151"></a><a href="#FNanchor_151_151"><span class="label">[151]</span></a> Vessel, ship</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_152_152" id="Footnote_152_152"></a><a href="#FNanchor_152_152"><span class="label">[152]</span></a> Bands</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_153_153" id="Footnote_153_153"></a><a href="#FNanchor_153_153"><span class="label">[153]</span></a> Ere</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_154_154" id="Footnote_154_154"></a><a href="#FNanchor_154_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> Slowly, softly</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_155_155" id="Footnote_155_155"></a><a href="#FNanchor_155_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> Cows</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_156_156" id="Footnote_156_156"></a><a href="#FNanchor_156_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> Husband</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_157_157" id="Footnote_157_157"></a><a href="#FNanchor_157_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> Weep</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_158_158" id="Footnote_158_158"></a><a href="#FNanchor_158_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> Much</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_159_159" id="Footnote_159_159"></a><a href="#FNanchor_159_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> Praises</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_160_160" id="Footnote_160_160"></a><a href="#FNanchor_160_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> Good reason why</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_161_161" id="Footnote_161_161"></a><a href="#FNanchor_161_161"><span class="label">[161]</span></a> More</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_162_162" id="Footnote_162_162"></a><a href="#FNanchor_162_162"><span class="label">[162]</span></a> Pool</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_163_163" id="Footnote_163_163"></a><a href="#FNanchor_163_163"><span class="label">[163]</span></a> Leaping</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_164_164" id="Footnote_164_164"></a><a href="#FNanchor_164_164"><span class="label">[164]</span></a> Crooked, awry</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_165_165" id="Footnote_165_165"></a><a href="#FNanchor_165_165"><span class="label">[165]</span></a> Spell</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_166_166" id="Footnote_166_166"></a><a href="#FNanchor_166_166"><span class="label">[166]</span></a> Charmed and cozened</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_167_167" id="Footnote_167_167"></a><a href="#FNanchor_167_167"><span class="label">[167]</span></a> Laughed</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_168_168" id="Footnote_168_168"></a><a href="#FNanchor_168_168"><span class="label">[168]</span></a> Foul</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_169_169" id="Footnote_169_169"></a><a href="#FNanchor_169_169"><span class="label">[169]</span></a> Right loth</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_170_170" id="Footnote_170_170"></a><a href="#FNanchor_170_170"><span class="label">[170]</span></a> Wet</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_171_171" id="Footnote_171_171"></a><a href="#FNanchor_171_171"><span class="label">[171]</span></a> But long ere</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_172_172" id="Footnote_172_172"></a><a href="#FNanchor_172_172"><span class="label">[172]</span></a> If</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_173_173" id="Footnote_173_173"></a><a href="#FNanchor_173_173"><span class="label">[173]</span></a> Hand-bag</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_174_174" id="Footnote_174_174"></a><a href="#FNanchor_174_174"><span class="label">[174]</span></a> Birch-wood</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_175_175" id="Footnote_175_175"></a><a href="#FNanchor_175_175"><span class="label">[175]</span></a> The young wife</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_176_176" id="Footnote_176_176"></a><a href="#FNanchor_176_176"><span class="label">[176]</span></a> Skirts of bright green</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_177_177" id="Footnote_177_177"></a><a href="#FNanchor_177_177"><span class="label">[177]</span></a> Must not</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_178_178" id="Footnote_178_178"></a><a href="#FNanchor_178_178"><span class="label">[178]</span></a> This</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_179_179" id="Footnote_179_179"></a><a href="#FNanchor_179_179"><span class="label">[179]</span></a> High</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_180_180" id="Footnote_180_180"></a><a href="#FNanchor_180_180"><span class="label">[180]</span></a> Hair-comb</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_181_181" id="Footnote_181_181"></a><a href="#FNanchor_181_181"><span class="label">[181]</span></a> Save</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_182_182" id="Footnote_182_182"></a><a href="#FNanchor_182_182"><span class="label">[182]</span></a> The one</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_183_183" id="Footnote_183_183"></a><a href="#FNanchor_183_183"><span class="label">[183]</span></a> Raiders</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_184_184" id="Footnote_184_184"></a><a href="#FNanchor_184_184"><span class="label">[184]</span></a> Gold and silver</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_185_185" id="Footnote_185_185"></a><a href="#FNanchor_185_185"><span class="label">[185]</span></a> Alone</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_186_186" id="Footnote_186_186"></a><a href="#FNanchor_186_186"><span class="label">[186]</span></a> To the gate is gone</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_187_187" id="Footnote_187_187"></a><a href="#FNanchor_187_187"><span class="label">[187]</span></a> Halls</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_188_188" id="Footnote_188_188"></a><a href="#FNanchor_188_188"><span class="label">[188]</span></a> If</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_189_189" id="Footnote_189_189"></a><a href="#FNanchor_189_189"><span class="label">[189]</span></a> One</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_190_190" id="Footnote_190_190"></a><a href="#FNanchor_190_190"><span class="label">[190]</span></a> The twain</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_191_191" id="Footnote_191_191"></a><a href="#FNanchor_191_191"><span class="label">[191]</span></a> Makes her weep</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_192_192" id="Footnote_192_192"></a><a href="#FNanchor_192_192"><span class="label">[192]</span></a> Such lament</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_193_193" id="Footnote_193_193"></a><a href="#FNanchor_193_193"><span class="label">[193]</span></a> Shall not lose</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_194_194" id="Footnote_194_194"></a><a href="#FNanchor_194_194"><span class="label">[194]</span></a> Seized his all</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_195_195" id="Footnote_195_195"></a><a href="#FNanchor_195_195"><span class="label">[195]</span></a> More</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_196_196" id="Footnote_196_196"></a><a href="#FNanchor_196_196"><span class="label">[196]</span></a> Everything</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_197_197" id="Footnote_197_197"></a><a href="#FNanchor_197_197"><span class="label">[197]</span></a> Within</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_198_198" id="Footnote_198_198"></a><a href="#FNanchor_198_198"><span class="label">[198]</span></a> And dashed her backwards into the waves</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_199_199" id="Footnote_199_199"></a><a href="#FNanchor_199_199"><span class="label">[199]</span></a> And I'll make</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_200_200" id="Footnote_200_200"></a><a href="#FNanchor_200_200"><span class="label">[200]</span></a> You shall have</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_201_201" id="Footnote_201_201"></a><a href="#FNanchor_201_201"><span class="label">[201]</span></a> It parted me and my world's mate</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_202_202" id="Footnote_202_202"></a><a href="#FNanchor_202_202"><span class="label">[202]</span></a> Great</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_203_203" id="Footnote_203_203"></a><a href="#FNanchor_203_203"><span class="label">[203]</span></a> If you will stand</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_204_204" id="Footnote_204_204"></a><a href="#FNanchor_204_204"><span class="label">[204]</span></a> Every</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_205_205" id="Footnote_205_205"></a><a href="#FNanchor_205_205"><span class="label">[205]</span></a> Likewise</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_206_206" id="Footnote_206_206"></a><a href="#FNanchor_206_206"><span class="label">[206]</span></a> Visions</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_207_207" id="Footnote_207_207"></a><a href="#FNanchor_207_207"><span class="label">[207]</span></a> Canopy over dais</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_208_208" id="Footnote_208_208"></a><a href="#FNanchor_208_208"><span class="label">[208]</span></a> Mate</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_209_209" id="Footnote_209_209"></a><a href="#FNanchor_209_209"><span class="label">[209]</span></a> Bed</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_210_210" id="Footnote_210_210"></a><a href="#FNanchor_210_210"><span class="label">[210]</span></a> Told</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_211_211" id="Footnote_211_211"></a><a href="#FNanchor_211_211"><span class="label">[211]</span></a> First and foremost</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_212_212" id="Footnote_212_212"></a><a href="#FNanchor_212_212"><span class="label">[212]</span></a> Cap-nets of silk or of gold</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_213_213" id="Footnote_213_213"></a><a href="#FNanchor_213_213"><span class="label">[213]</span></a> Bird</p></div></div> - - - - -<p class="transnote">Transcriber's Note:<br /> - -1. All original spelling has been retained.<br /> - -2. Possible printing and spelling errors have been silently corrected.<br /> - -3. Words in hyphenated and non-hyphenated forms have been retained.</p> - - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Come Hither, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COME HITHER *** - -***** This file should be named 62119-h.htm or 62119-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/1/1/62119/ - -Produced by Karin Spence, Tim Lindell and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. 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